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Doctor Sleep Expands, Reconciles, and Re-contextualizes a Classic


As famous as Stanley Kubrick’s classic horror film The Shining is Stephen King’s dislike for it. In adapting King’s 1977 story of the caretaker of a haunted hotel being driven mad, Kubrick nixed much of the novelists’ deep character development and important themes in favour of creating an enigmatic atmosphere, a dreadful tone, and a rich series of some of the scariest moments and imagery the cinematic horror genre has produced; relegating the actual story as secondary. To invoke a deceased caretaker, King sought to “correct” the film, by doing all he could to remind people he didn’t approve, producing a forgettable TV miniseries in 1997, and publishing his own sequel in 2013.
That Doctor Sleep has made its own way to the big screen now is astonishing. Surely King knew that the cultural capital of the film would override any interest in Warner Brothers making a purely book-loyal sequel, and that when push comes to shove, the movie would have precedence as a source material. That was clearly the case conveyed by the trailers, which made a point of showcasing the adult Danny Torrance (Ewan McGregor) returning to the Overlook Hotel –destroyed at the end of King’s novel. But for all this posturing, the film spends only a little time retreading the familiar old haunt, choosing instead to focus on Dan’s role in the battle between a cult of nomadic immortals and a young girl with an extraordinary “shining” power.
Which is relatively unusual for a film written and directed by Mike Flanagan, whose work on the likes of Oculus and The Haunting of Hill House (both rooted in a single, powerfully supernatural environment), would suggest he’d want to take full advantage of the plethora of horrors proffered by the Overlook.  Instead he steps back, and allows the movie to be its own story, building to, but not overly concerned with the ghostly hotel until the final stretch. That’s not to say the presence of The Shining is ignored before then; the trauma hovers over Dan’s whole life and Flanagan remarkably accommodates elements of both the book and film to inform his characterization. In fact, rather than being a straight-up horror film, Doctor Sleep is more often a nuanced character study of overcoming childhood trauma. To that end, it’s rather inspiring, not least in the positive capacity Dan ultimately finds for his powers –the genesis of the book according to King. With his alcoholism and personal demons torturing what is a fundamentally good nature, he is exactly the kind of King character usually omitted from movie adaptations, and exactly the kind of character this movie benefits substantially from by focussing on. And there’s a whole story between The Shining and Doctor Sleep for him that’s pretty intriguing and intense. Yet the film emphasizes his growth in adulthood, how far he’s come from the Overlook and how he’s learnt to move past or at least live with it, a symbol of the movie doing the same with the legacy of The Shining.
As such, when his journey inevitably returns him to the hotel, it’s merely a plot device -albeit one that’s built up to and is organically integrated. Indeed while the Overlook sequence is the least structurally cohesive part of the movie, it’s also the most interesting. Because the film doesn’t approach it with the unknowable terror, the anomalous power, and the disorienting atmosphere of the first movie. It’s accepted rather, to be a conduit of spirits and supernatural influence, and the characters aren’t afraid of it, because its’ purpose is no longer to horrify: it’s to reconcile. As much as it may look like Kubrick’s Overlook, functionally it’s King’s –right down to new actors playing familiar ghosts (as opposed to CG recreations) including one that we’re all waiting for in an excellent moment of emotional resolution. Yet Flanagan goes all out with the fan service for the former, paying respect to the film, if not its intents, and fully earning his replicated shot compositions, musical motifs, and editing choices that reconstitute the familiar trappings under a new context.
That context is a rather compelling cat-and-mouse game between powerful psychics each aware of their own abilities and their enemies’ attempts to sap them. It expands the insular world of the original story, explains or clarifies the nature of ghosts and people who shine (to the detriment of their ability to scare, mind), and allows for the conjuring of fascinating dreamscapes and eerie mental corridors. On top of that, the characters involved are engaging and thrillingly clever. Rebecca Ferguson’s Rose the Hat is a savage, diabolical, yet infectiously charismatic villain, matched (and at times exceeded) in cunning only by Kyliegh Curran’s Abra Stone, who possesses more than an ample degree of vindictiveness herself. Their power play is where the movie is most exciting, and both actresses (though especially Ferguson) deliver magnetic performances. McGregor is exceptional too, embodying the tortured addict turned responsible mentor with a warm understanding and natural ease (almost as though he’s played both types before), accompanied by a friendly and supportive Cliff Curtis joining in the fight against Rose’s coven that includes Zahn McClarnon, Emily Alyn Lind, and Carel Struycken.
And they’re a nasty bunch that Flanagan takes as much pleasure in showcasing at their hideous practices as he does in the satisfying moments where Abra gains an upper hand. Her shine and her control over it has major metaphorical significance that becomes clearer the closer the film gets to the finish line and we realize how important it is that she beat back these vampiric enemies -so addicted to their immortality they scrounge for the invigorating “steam” they can absorb even from one of their own. Doctor Sleep has a preoccupation with death, but it isn’t morbid. Perhaps because characters are known to come back as ghosts, such as the previous films’ Dick Hallorann (Carl Lumbly); or perhaps because it treats death with a maturity and reverence, exactly the kind of deep empathy that earns Dan his titular nickname.
Doctor Sleep isn’t very frightening. It’s creepy and tense and exhilarating, and does inherit a great deal of The Shining’s foreboding mood, but it’s far more interested in its character arcs and themes than its scares –precisely the opposite of Kubrick’s film. Yet it mostly still works as a great companion to the earlier classic, filling in the gaps and expanding the scope while fleshing out its implications, scars, and greater depth to the point of enriching the original even further. Few sequels produced so many decades later shine so bright.

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