On Saturday night I watched The Shining with one boy and three girls. When Micah heard we were going to watch it; he was full of warnings and disbelief over our choice. We assured him that indeed we were going to watch The Shining, and poo pooed every single one of his warnings.
Now, for the most part, The Shining is fine for mixed company. Really, it’s good. If movies were ranked on a scale of 1 to 100 regarding mixed-company-awkwardness, The Shining would maybe be at a 30. No big whoop.
But there is one simple scene that brought this film, which might’ve otherwise been a tame 5, to a moderately uncomfortable 30.
The scene itself however, when isolated, is a 70. It’s not going to ruin any friendships or anything, but it was definitely awkward.
And no. I’m not talking about that bathtub scene with the woman who remains silently naked for what seems like 36 minutes before she turns into pure grotesque. It is ghost-infidelity, which is absolutely unacceptable, but no, that wasn’t awkward at all for us. Not even a little bit.
No, what I’m talking about is that maze scene at the end. Come on, you guys. That was completely unrealistic. Am I right? Or am I right?!
You know how Jack Nicholson is following that kid’s tracks in the snow and then the kid backtracks through his own footprints to throw him off the trail? Yeah right. Jack would’ve either caught up to him during that time, or found the second set of footprints. Either way he would’ve encountered his quiveringly frightened child and axed him up. And don’t give me any of your hullabaloo about the kid brushing snow over that second set of footprints. Ridiculous. His little, frightened, body would be completely incapable of such a task.
If this movie was real life, that kid would’ve died so hard.
I insisted that everyone in the room ignore this Hollywood ending and assume the child was slaughtered. After all my shouting, I began to sob uncontrollably, which I am unfortunately prone to do.
No one really knew what to do at that point. It was very awkward.
If it were just the girls, it would’ve been okay, you know? I mean, we pretty much cry constantly around our house. And we talk about death like 8 or 9 times a day. But that kind of realism is pretty taboo among mixed company. It was just a bit too much for our male companion, I think.
Anyway. What’s done is done, but Micah: I am deeply sorry. I’m sorry your warnings went completely unheeded.
By the way, Micah, while I have you, do you have any thoughts on A Clockwork Orange? I’m thinking of watching that with my parents next month.
Some People Call Me Maurice 