FILM REVIEW: Doctor Sleep (2019)

Directed by Mike Flanagan

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For decades, there’s been a war over the superior vision of The Shining – Stephen King’s original novel vs. Stanley Kubrick’s iconic yet polarizing film adaptation. I side with the latter. The Shining is not only is it my favorite horror film by far, but it is one of the greatest films I’ve ever seen, and what made Kubrick’s film so fascinating and terrifying was its complete reworking of King’s novel into something more allegorical and elusive, rather than an air-tight paranormal story. I walked into Doctor Sleep knowing it could not hold up to Kubrick’s masterpiece, but the comparison can’t not be mentioned: this is acting as both a sequel to King’s novel as well as Kubrick’s film.

Rather than being a cynical cash-in on The Shining, Doctor Sleep is a sincere attempt at appeasing both the Kingians and Kubrickites with a clear passion for its source material. As admirable a move as this is, it is not a good one: the result is mangled by a story that is overwritten to the point of disinterest from the viewer, taking all of its substance down with it.

It is some 30 years after the events of The Shining. Dan Torrance (Ewan MacGregor), unable to shake the trauma from his childhood experiences, lives as a deadbeat and an alcoholic. He hits the road to a small town to start anew, where he gets sober. Over time, he forms a bond with young Abra (Kyleigh Curran), a psychic bond at that – she also shines, and communicates with Dan via chalk on a blackboard. Some years later, Abra’s communications become suddenly urgent – across the country is a cult known as the True Knot. They are caravanning across the States, feeding on “steam”, a sort of life essence from those that have the Shining. When their leader, Rose the Hat (Rebecca Ferguson), discovers Abra’s psychic meddling, she sets out to take the child down.

I won’t completely rule out the idea of a sequel to The Shining. Considering that child abuse is one of the many horrifying themes that can be mined from Kubrick’s film (see Collative Learning’s terrific analyses on YouTube), coping with that trauma into adulthood seems like the next logical step for the saga of Dan Torrance. Doctor Sleep’s opening moments are admittedly engaging, but once the story gets going, it becomes a muddled and convoluted mess that wants to be psychological terror, supernatural thriller, and deeply personal human drama all at once, but doesn’t know how to seam these tones together.

In addition to the unbearably rapid shifting of locations (one minute we’re in New Hampshire, next we’re in Iowa, etc.), pacing is handled poorly, with many key moments coming and going too quickly (little Danny’s resolution with the rotting corpse of Room 237 is laughably brief). I think this is more because of how overwritten the story is (one of Stephen King’s notable weaknesses): Doctor Sleep attempts to exhibit the capabilities of Shiners a bit more, but the results don’t feel completely fleshed out: they may seem like they have limitless powers until the plot requires them to have limitations. This lack of clarity with the Shining’s rules and limitations is only made more complicated with a new plot element, where the spirit of Dick Halloran teaches Dan to keep his haunting memories locked away in metaphysical boxes, which becomes a major plot point later on. It’s all headache-inducing.

Then there’s our characters. Though Dan is supposed to be our protagonist, played by a slightly bored Ewan MacGregor, Doctor Sleep really belongs to Abra, who emerges as the most compelling character in the story, played wonderfully by Kyleigh Curran – while her acting style feels out-of-place for this kind of story, there is still great talent on display. But then there’s the villainous True Knot, who, at best, have no menacing presence and are vapidly uninteresting. At worst, they’re kind of goofy, especially leader Rose, who resembles Diane Keaton if she were a New Age gypsy.

Despite these circumstances, there are some well-constructed sequences that don’t necessarily make the entire experience worthwhile, but are noteworthy. There are a few genuinely bone-chilling moments, one in particular involving a Little League Baseball player’s fate in the hands of the True Knot. The psychic duels between Rose and Abra are admittedly really cool and creatively executed, particularly one moment set in a supermarket.

But to top everything off, there’s the climactic showdown at the Overlook Hotel. Complimented by a meticulously crafted set design, it is now closed, boarded-up, and dilapidated – perhaps I shouldn’t be talking about this, but it’s shown in all the advertising. I think this whole sequence showcases the best aspect of Doctor Sleep: there’s a passionate sincerity for the source material that shines brightly through the entire film. Yes, there is fan service, but it’s in reasonable doses and never overshadows the main substance at hand, no matter how weak it is. At least Flanagan has his priorities straight.

There’s actually a lot more to Doctor Sleep that I’ve not even touched, but I honestly don’t care – the more the film went on, the more discombobulated it became, and the more detached I was. Considering the film was two and a half hours long, I definitely lost almost all interest. What a shame. There’s subject matter that is ripe with potential for a great horror film, and continuing Kubrick’s approach could have made Doctor Sleep interesting, but by simultaneously committing to King’s novel, it becomes an awkward experience that never reaches take-off speed due to frantic gear-shifting, confusing enough for fans of Kubrick’s film and even more so for fans of King’s novels.

FILM REVIEW: Parasite (2019)

Directed by Bong Joon-ho

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I’m having trouble coming up with an opening paragraph for my review of Parasite, Bong Joon-ho’s universally acclaimed satire on class. There’s an element of it that is simply beyond description, despite Parasite being quite accessible – it’s simply one of those movies best discovered on your own, and is best walked into knowing as little as possible. But, if you’re reading this, you want to know what I have to say: Bong Joon-ho has a remarkable track record in his career, and Parasite is no exception. While I don’t think it’s going to live on as one of the all-time great Korean films, I can’t think of a bad thing to say about it. You can clearly see that 4/4 rating above, and if you can take my word for it, stop reading here and go see it. It’s good. Damn good.

From here on out, I’m doing my absolute best to avoid spoilers, but proceed at your own risk.

We are introduced to the Kim family, and there’s no other way to put it: they are dirt poor. Without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out, they spend their days attempting to construct pizza boxes (1 out of 4 boxes are unusable) and opening their windows for free bug extermination when the fumigators roll into the neighborhood. A light shines at the end of this impoverished tunnel, though: son Ki-woo (Choi Woo-sik) is offered a job to teach English to the daughter of the Parks, a family so rich they probably don’t even know what to do with their money. Despite having no credentials, he is hired and accepted into the Park home, where he sees the perfect job opportunity for his art-inclined sister (Park So-dam). Before too long, the entire Kim family is working at this house (albeit, fraudulently), serving as the laborious backbone of the Parks.

I cease my plot synopsis here. I feel to say any more would result in some kind of criminal prosecution, because the yarn-ball that is Parasite unspools from one of the best scripts in a while. The Kim family is easy to warm up to, and the urgency of their poverty grabs your attention. With this, seeing them gradually shift from poverty to prosperity wonderful unto itself, but also darkly thrilling as they cleverly integrate themselves into the Park’s work force, pulling off one of the most memorable cons in 21^st Century Cinema.

By all means, Parasite tells the kind of story that should agonizingly test (if not shatter) one’s verisimilitude, with all of the twists and turns it takes throughout. Amazingly, this never happens: no matter how wild or unrealistic a certain idea may seem, Parasite brilliantly rebounds into the realm of reality and possibility. For instance, without spoiling too much, a major twist occurs when things go…under, so to speak (you’ll know what I’m talking about once you see the film). Just when the movie was escaping believability, a quick explanation was given – rather than feeling like a hand-wave, it made complete sense.

Bong Joon-ho’s direction certainly plays a huge part in Parasite’s ultimate effect. It’s exciting upon the start, and the film becomes more and more gnarled as it goes on, resulting in a climax that goes completely off the rails. There’s major risk of things getting too out of hand, but Bong keeps everything in check the entire film – pacing is always consistent, shifts in tone are always warranted, and the film never bites off more than it could chew.

But I think what I admire most is the treatment of the two families. The subject of class in Parasite has been brought up for every discussion on the film. Considering this day in age, I feared that this would be a one dimensional “evil rich vs. misunderstood but gold-hearted poor” nonsense. To my surprise (and relief), this was not the case. Yes, the Parks (the rich) aren’t depicted in the most flattering light, but they’re not bad people – they’re just well-intentioned people whose naivete has become more prominent with their riches. As for the Kims, though they’re poor with almost nothing left to lose: considering that the family is pulling off one hell of a con job, the film never gives them license to get away with whatever they want beyond that (for the most part, anyway). You ultimately root for the Kims, but nobody becomes your object of hatred or intense condescension.

Parasite took home the Palme d’Or at Cannes 2019. I must admit that I am not convinced of this level of greatness – along with a lack of prominent or singular style, I feel the commentary on class tends to take a backseat to the incredible story, instead of the commentary emerging from the substance, though this will differ from viewer to viewer. It doesn’t quite transcend for me, but speaking on its own merits, I can’t say a bad thing about it. It accomplishes everything it set out to become without a single point of significant fault. I may see myself moving on from Parasite in a few months or so, but I definitely won’t forget it.