By Joshua Cornelius

It’s no secret that Stephen King was none too thrilled with Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of his novel.  King openly objected to a number of changes to the original novel, including the casting of Jack Nicholson, as he deemed the actor already too maniacal to believably menace poor Wendy and Danny.  King abstained from his obligations to help script the film with Kubrick after claiming to have heard horror stories from people who’d worked with the auteur.  Regardless, the writer claimed that Kubrick would call him at all hours asking introspective questions about King’s methodology, completely unaware of the time difference in calling from London to Maine.

All these many years, King has barely abstained from condemning the film altogether (though I’d imagine he doesn’t object to the royalties the film has garnered him).  In 1997, King decided to stage his own long format mini-series of the novel, in which he could restore the elaborately structured plot to its former glory for the small screen.  The result is Stephen King’s The Shining, directed by long time King collaborator, Mick Garris.

Jack Torrance, formerly played by the menacing, scenery chewing Jack Nicholson, was replaced by none other than Steven Weber (of the sitcom Wings) while the shivering, quivering performance of Shelley Duvall as Wendy Torrance was swapped for the domineering Rebecca DeMornay (of The Hand that Rocks the Cradle).  A number of other superficial and otherwise television friendly changes were made to reflect the novel and King’s original “vision”, including the switch from an axe to a croquet mallet for the penultimate meltdown scene of the original film.

Some nice YouTube alum has seen fit to create a comparison of the original film and its television counterpart in these dramatic moments.  Notice how Kubrick’s version of the film deftly sells the howling performances of both Duvall and Nicholson through editing and a trained eye for camera placement.  Garris’ version by contrast, plays many of the most menacing moments of the films denouement in wide shots, lending a theatrical, potentially laughable air to the proceedings.  King’s version of the film was also shot at The Stanley Hotel, the same hotel that inspired King to write the novel in the first place.  Without the myriad of patterns and textures, the dark menacing, brooding surfaces of Kubrick’s imagined Overlook Hotel, The Stanley features all the menace of an ineffective milquetoast bed and breakfast.

Whatever your thoughts on which version of the film is “better”, it’s hard to deny that Kubrick’s vision is decidedly more cinematic.  The changes that infuriated King help to sell Kubrick’s distinct vision of the menace.  Instead of an unhinged everyman wielding a blunt, ineffective tool for destruction (the croquet mallet) and wantonly smashing inanimate objects along the way, Kubrick has placed a tool for destruction in the hands of an already imbalanced father intent on using that weapon against his family.  Kubrick posits a Wendy Torrance who sees the warning signs and ignores them, out of fear, love or apathy.  Her blithe oppression is believable, though not entirely forgivable.  Wendy has gotten herself and her son into this mess and should have known better than to hole herself in a hotel for six months with her estranged husband.

For purists, Stephen King’s The Shining should fulfill your needs, but may sit as well as other “faithful” King adaptations, such as Needful Things and The Dark Half.  Adapted directly, many of King’s character archetypes become little more than a handful of quirks and his New England gothic scenarios have become obvious and trite.  To boot, novels rarely fit the traditional three act structure of stage and film, and don’t need to consider budget constraints when imagining elaborate locations for the various scenes that populate the book.  The result is something decidedly less satisfying, and I think Stephen King’s The Shining fits that bill.

On the other hand, it’s easy to see King’s viewpoint.  ”The Shining” is King’s novel, and seeing it distilled in such a fashion may have been devastating for the young writer.  All the same, King seems to take particular revelry in badmouthing one of the worlds foremost cinematic artists.  He is, after all, the man that scripted and directed Maximum Overdrive, a film about trucks and soda machines that take over the world.