What's wrong with this picture?

This post concerns itself with the answering of a seemingly simple question: what changed after Bill's first visit to Domino's apartment? Like those anti-drug ads, or comic strip games from long ago, we may think "what's wrong with this picture?" The chiastic narrative of Eyes Wide Shut allows us several opportunities to observe changes and alterations between duplicate settings. Bill retraces his steps several times in the film. For example, he visits Ziegler's mansion twice, Domino's apartment twice, Somerton twice, Sonata cafe/Gillespie's twice, the Rainbow costume shop twice (more if we include the disguised streetscape), Mandy - the person - twice (or more, if Mandy is the masked woman at Somerton who warns bill on two different occasions to leave), etc. The duplicity (literally, "doubleness") of Bill's odyssey fits with the general notion of "masks" and "costumes." This duplicity is also an inherent feature of chiastic or mirror-image plot structure. 

Part I. Listing Differences

1. First, we only need study the two images above. To the left is a frame of Bill's first appearance at Domino's. The image on the right is Bill's second appearance. The settings are very similar, but I don't think we can say they are identical. The walls are a sickly green and yellow, and the doors are dark blue. One may think of Van Gogh's simple, yet melancholic, putrid palettes. 

A note on my observations of the color scheme: for the sake of argument, let's consider the following: The Bedroom, pictured above, was completed in 1888, but due to flooding of the artist's house, the original was damaged. A second version recaptured the first, and a third version followed. There are minor differences in all three versions - for example, color. Not to go too deeply into an image which itself does not appear in the film, but, the fact that there are three versions of the painting is of interest. Whether it be Monet or Van Gogh, Da Vinci or Degas, artists tend to make copies. In this way, the doubling of scenes seems to be Kubrick's opportunity to expand and develop themes. 

Note on a note: while Van Gogh is a good arty reference, it is also the book Alice is wrapping up as a Christmas present, likely for Bill, during the, what I would call, "Rockwell-esque" montage. The book is enormous. Does Bill like art? Or, is Alice trying to impress him? Who knows how to read this scene. At the very least, the book is ostentatious. But, once again, a thread for a different time.

2.  There's a blue baby stroller in the corner of the stairwell. In the first appearance, the baby stroller appears left-of-center, and the scene quickly progresses to Bill entering Domino's apartment. Domino's apartment appears like one big bedroom judging from the interior shots. We know from the view outside the building that the apartment's location is a logical impossibility - its location simultaneously occupying the lottery shop (my interpretation of the significance of the Lottery will certainly be addressed at a future date in a separate post). So, the whole thing may as well be a bedroom - in image or concept - since Bill's thoughts are surely concerned with the morality and social, familial repercussions of his actions (even before he acts). Given the context in which Bill is being propositioned to enter - for the sake of pleasure, with Domino - we can see the entire lobby and location as a conceptual or symbolic "bedroom." 

Ok.

When it comes to Kubrick films, I can't control how many cans of worms I open.

If we watch Bill's second appearance, the scene is slower. The blue baby-stroller appears in the corner. The camera hovers on Bill, who appears compromised in his intentions, or will. The camera captures the stroller behind Bill for considerably longer. It is visibly in the background, though admittedly, easy to miss. 

2B. The stroller is rotated in the second appearance. This could be an accident. Or, it could be that somebody moved it. Who moved it, and why? 

3. We should note the red tinsel on the wall above the stairs appears in the second scene. But it is not pictured when the camera faces Bill in profile, speaking through the door to Sally. "What's wrong with this picture?" becomes Can you spot the differences? It is to the left of the stroller and bordering the stairs. Stairs are a frequent code or symbol in Kubrick films. I can think of two lines in Eyes alone: 1. "Sex upstairs," which Alice says Sandor wanted; 2. "Victor's art collection," which Sandor says is upstairs. Also, Bill obviously walks upstairs by Victor's guard to a bathroom. This already tells us that "higher" things are actually base, fleshly, carnal - the staircase is an inversion. Bill ascends a staircase to enter Somerton; ascends a staircase to enter Domino's apartment lobby, etc. 

The interior staircase at Domino's apartment could very well be a clue placed visually adjacent to the symbolic power of the actual apartment doorway. It represents, if even in a subdued, latent, suppressed manner, the various connotations of "stairway" or "upstairs" seen earlier in the film. Notably the staircase at Domino's is dark in both appearances. Nobody is coming or going, but Bill is present. Furthermore, stairs function in two ways, no? One travels either up or down. The tinsel appears after Domino's absence. 

4. Domino leads Bill, vs., Bill seeks Domino. 

Is the tinsel a minor suggestion of Domino's disappearance? Domino is absent in the second visit. If we are to take Sally at her word, then Domino has HIV. Also, Sally must think that Bill and Domino had had sex, and therefore, that Bill should be concerned. But would two prostitute roommates not talk about the fact that a customer paid a regular rate for a few kisses? Sally even mentions she heard Bill was a "gentleman." It is impossible to determine what she knows about what went on between Bill and Domino. This casts doubt on Sally's story of Domino. But more on this later.

5. Though not included in the side-by-side picture above, the bicycle is present in the first and second shot of Domino's apartment. It is an old, green bicycle in the right corner of the lobby. Fine. Symbolically I think it is maybe deadweight, but of course, I wouldn't want to rush judgment. But the word "rush" points us in a direction: a bike signals urgency. Bikes are faster than walking, but save one from running. 

6. In the second shot, we see two metal trash cans hiding the bicycle somewhat. Interesting. The baby stroller is rotated, the red tinsel appears above the stairs, Domino is absent, and two trash cans are present. We should also note that when Bill is outside with Domino earlier in the "chapter," a large, black trash bag is pictured beside the steps. At least two large trash bags are seen in the second visit shot, when the camera looks down on Bill omnisciently as he enters the apartment lobby. 

7. The final detail is surely the most curious and suggestive: if we listen with the volume turned up, we can hear the screams of children, as if playing at a playground, when Bill enters the lobby to see Sally in the "return" visit. Where is the playground? Where are the children, actually? Outside we only see solitary figures who may as well be walking manikins, populating every shot of the city street. These people are quiet and brisk walkers. There are no children to be seen. Strangely too is the sound of laughter, but this disappears as Bill approaches the apartment door. The camera rests at an angle showing Bill knocking at the door, with the trash cans in the foreground. The trashcans appear and take dominance as the faint sound of children's laughter disappears. What is Kubrick getting at? Or, are these merely arbitrary details placed to create enough of a distinction between "before" and "after" shots? 

 

Part II. Response and Analysis

I am inclined to think these details are not arbitrary, and that they do reflect some intention on the part of the director, insofar as the director is fashioning the context of a fictional story. But certainly we know Kubrick was nothing if not obsessive with set design, acting, and dialogue. Therefore I think it can be argued that these details were intentional and they can and do possess varying degrees of symbolic power. 

First, consider the similarity or, indeed, duplicity of the name "Lou Nathanson." Lou is the old, ostensibly super-wealthy man whose death prompts his daughter, Marion, to phone Bill, his primary physician. As we know, in the wake of death, lust and desire take center stage. Marion's husband, Carl, who is a near-double of Bill (and whose name alliterates "Cruise"), finally arrives towards the end of the scene. Duplicity personified. After Bill goes to Lou's condo and meets with Marion and later Carl, he begins his odyssey on the street, where he eventually meets Domino.

A note on the name: Nathanson is an implied Jewish name, like Bill's other clients (Ziegler, Kominsky, Miller, etc). 19th and early 20th-Century French "Nabi" symbolist painter Edouard Vuillard painted his mistress, Misia Natanson at her and her husband's apartment for several years. Misia was born into an influential family who patronized the arts - theater, painting, fashion, music, etc. She modeled for many famous artists throughout her life. "Nabi" itself is adapted from the Hebrew word for "prophet," and was the name for a group of Parisian painters including Bonnard, Roussel, Serusier, and others. The Nathanson hi-rise apartment is very opulent. There's a sense that Bill is entering a castle or temple of sorts. The bedroom is reminiscent of the late 19th-Century, with wood chairs, lamps, framed art, etc. Marion and Misia are both "M" names, too. This 19th-century art world reminds us again of the role of the marginal, subliminal Van Gogh book. 

What if Lou Nathanson has a double, too? I'll admit that prolonged experiments in speculation have limited entertainment value. That's likely one of the reasons Eyes Wide Shut has always been on the margins of mainstream entertainment - it is far too long, ambiguous, and dreary to be popular. And yet, thanks to a minute-long orgy scene after what appears to be something like a black mass, it is easily one of the most damning portrayals of American and global ruling elites in the history of film. Anyways.

Consider the name "Bernard Nathanson." This is the name of the late atheist Jewish abortionist doctor from New York. He was a founding member of NARAL, whose activism and crafty lies helped legalize abortion via the Roe v. Wade ruling. But, when ultra-sound was developed, he began to abandon his pro-choice sentiments, realizing that fetuses at all stages of life feel pain. He created documentary films exposing the truths of abortion procedures in the modern era. He became a pro-life activist after experiencing years of intense depression brought on by his performing over 60,000 abortions. While attacking the Catholic Church’s unchanging moral teaching early on in his career, in the late nineties, after several years of spiritual direction, he was baptized and confirmed into the Church (it's never too late).

Why is this story still news? It is almost as if someone or something doesn't want us to know this story. There’s something very chilling about the damage done. In reality, there have been tens of millions of abortions since Roe - somewhere over 63 million in the US alone. The Holocaust resulted in at least 13 million deaths. The difference is who was doing the killing, and how. But the fact remains that far more lives were lost in recent times. Nathanson later expressed the view that abortion was the current, and much more grave, holocaust still happening in the modern west. He called it "satanic." This must have come after he had become agnostic or at least somewhat faithful. As I now write in a post-Roe America, we can't ignore the fact that pro-choice extremists called for the deaths of the Supreme Court's majority conservative justices, nor that pregnancy centers across the country have been fire-bombed, vandalized, and robbed. Maybe this violence and hatred is being conveniently displaced onto the unborn, or, maybe it is truly hateful of unborn (or any) human life. The latter could only fall under the category of "satanic." 

I would guess Bernard Nathanson lost friends along the way. NARAL co-founder and native New Yorker, Lawrence "Larry" Lader died before Nathanson, never changing his tune. NARAL itself, and the advent of abortion, was largely propagated by similar New York atheist ethnic Jews. It isn't a stereotype to mention that doctors who happened to be Jewish performed these procedures - there are factual accounts of this reality, brought on either by financial need, or greed, as was the case for Nathanson for so long. A third co-founder, Betty Freidan, seemed to become uneasy about abortion rights later in her life. A 1996 Crisis Magazine article on Nathanson points out that of religious groups supporting abortion, nearly 50% were Jewish. The anomaly is that scarcely 2% of Americans identify as religious Jews. This obviously suggests that there is a religious bias for the right to abortion. The modern abortion story itself begins in New York, with Margaret Sanger and what would become Planned Parenthood. While Sanger is responsible for advocating contraception, she also believed in eugenics and population control, targeting blacks and other minorities. The many Jewish - and gentile - doctors, it seemed, pioneered far more extreme and desperate measures to address the problem of unwanted pregnancy. 

So, back to the main issue. The baby stroller is empty during both the Domino and Sally sequence. Yet, the trash cans and sound of screaming children appear during the Sally sequence. The insinuation should hardly be ambiguous at this point. The question becomes: is this related to Domino's disappearance? The symbols mentioned coincide with the cipher of Sally as "69" (S=19, A=1, L=12, L=12, Y=25, added, = “69). If we look closely we also see Sally making advances towards Bill, as he walks through the door. 

Her head turned, eyes cast downward, reminiscent of Gayle and Nuala at Ziegler's ball. Sally seems to be seducing Bill. But Bill seems to be playing a chivalric character, the Good Doctor. So he can't be "surprised" that he is being seduced. Bill says "Hello Sally," in lustful way, reinforcing the cipher "69." Domino as a cipher of "70" is sequential to Sally, even though this would be counting down, since Domino appears first. "70" is a sort of perfection because of 7 - does this point to her disappearance? Furthermore, Sally's cipher points to the reality of abortion - killing is justified for the sake of convenience. This convenience is equidistant to pleasure. I.e., it is just as easy to have sex as it is to kill an unborn child. Killing is the means to the end of preserving one's own pleasure and well-being. If I know I can kill (or, "get rid of"), then I know I can pursue pleasure without conflict. The Holocaust, or Shoah, in this way, is seen not as an end but as a beginning. A Holocaust, or, "burnt offering," as we find in Leviticus, was ritual worship for ancient Jews. Countless Cristian and biblical scholars have drawn parallels between idol worship of Molech, the Canaanite deity associated with child sacrifice, and the modern abortion industry ("women's health") whose bio-hazard waste products are incinerated at an industrial scale. For this reason, too, a serious religious Jew wouldn't adopt pro-choice sentiments, just as any Christian and Catholic would not - though, sadly, too many do. 

We arrive at more questions.

Was Domino HIV positive? Could it be that Domino was pregnant? Or, was Domino "sacrificed" by the Somerton thugs? Did Domino get an abortion? Again, we are faced with "experiments in speculation." All we know is Sally says Domino has HIV. But, we know that this could be a cover story. 

I would expand this notion by suggesting these details are indeed "cover stories" for the reality of our modern Western civilization. While Full Metal Jacket was overtly political, and explicitly critical of the US military, the final killing of the young female Vietnamese sniper may hold a clue for us culturally. As I mentioned above, Margaret Sanger, the founder of Planned Parenthood (in Brooklyn) was surely "racist" or "classist" by today's standards (depending on who you ask) and endorsed eugenics via contraception. Though she opposed abortion, she supported preventing "unfit" life (a contradiction, no?) Her work preceded the Final Solution by at least two decades. Abortions grew exponentially after Roe, even though birth control was available. Maybe it wasn't widely available, maybe it wasn't effective. But I'm not satisfied with ignoring the fact that legalizing a service increases its availability. Marijuana dispensaries is a case-in-point with another activity that was long illegal and taboo. Maybe it is presumptuous to say that having an alternative solution is similar to having a solution. I.e., the logic goes like this: if there's a cure for HIV, then I don't need to worry about doing "X." If murder was legal, would I be humbled or emboldened? The saying about "two wrongs."

Similarly, the number of abortions performed decreases when abortion is restricted or made illegal. Several countries in Europe show this (ex: Poland). We can even see evidence in Texas as of recent - severely limiting a service, or banning it, means limiting services rendered. Decades ago, Bernard Nathanson lied about the number of illegal abortions to sway people in power. It created an illusion of crisis. Further, overturning Roe merely allows states to choose their own fate on the practice. The argument that making the practice illegal will only increase the practice illegally is inaccurate. Facts show the opposite. The same lie is believed today by people like Elizabeth Warren and virtually all other Democrats and a number of Republicans. 

In addition to the occult symbols in the film, the cult symbols that are more difficult to decipher point tragically to the true state of the world. The Keith Haring sign is an obvious allusion to HIV/AIDS which Sally says Domino has contracted. We know that sex workers are disproportionately affected by sexual diseases, infections, unwanted pregnancies, physical and sexual violence, drug abuse, etc. Of course, the film world of Eyes Wide Shut is evil. Because it always seems to insist that it is good. It is constantly deceiving us, confusing us, mesmerizing us. Tragically, the film is un-ironically and unambiguously reflecting an American and Western culture which seems to be getting sicker. The following taboos are rapidly becoming normalized: transgenderism, prostitution, pedophilia, abortion, euthanasia, drugs, authoritarianism, the occult, and all things sexual. The baby stroller, trash cans, faint sound of children's voices, red tinsel, and disappearance of Domino - in conjunction with the death of Lou Nathanson and subsequent lust of Marion - the cipher of Sally as "69," the doubleness of Lou/Bernard Nathanson, point ever downward. Sin and death, darkness and death, violence and death, sex and death. 

But I'm happy that Kubrick and his hired workers made Eyes Wide Shut. Good art is beautiful, but not all beautiful things make for good art. Few films, no, few directors, have offered works that warrant months and years of careful deciphering. But in all my exegeses of Kubrick's films, I've never been disappointed. 

Disease and prophecy

1.

In the latter half of Eyes Wide Shut Bill returns to Domino's apartment. On the wall in the lobby area is a "for sale" sign with the name "Keith Haring" in all-caps. 

 

Keith Haring is the name of a New York City-based artist whose rise to fame in the 1980s was cut short by his death from HIV/AIDS. I realize this detail has been noted before, so I'll try to shed light on other less-touched-upon connections in relation to it.

Haring enjoyed acquaintanceships with Basquiat, Warhol, and countless other esteemed artists and counter-cultural figures, and was an advocate for gay rights. Some of Haring's inspirations include Dr. Seuss and Walt Disney cartoons, pop art, and graffiti. He was 31 when he died in 1990 from complications from HIV/AIDS. "31" may be the first obvious connection less talked about: it is a visual mirror of "13." 

This crafted sign is a subtle but literal, tongue-in-cheek example of "writing on the wall" that Bill is (tragically) unable to see. Haring, as a symbol, foreshadows the next scene: Domino is gone, but Sally, her roommate, is home. This reversal from the first visit, when Domino is home and Sally is away, might suggest the difference between Domino and Sally. The Introducing Sociology textbook seen on the dresser below the mirror when Bill answers Alice's phone call might point to Domino or Sally's status as a student. I think it also points to the tense relation between Bill and Alice. Bill is obviously hiding things from Alice, and we almost suspect that Alice knows it. 

Sally appears younger, maybe more studious, in comparison to Domino. But, both are smart and careful. Sally seems to be assuming that Bill and Domino had relations, and she holds back. She turns down Bill's flirtatious advances, explaining that Domino has tested HIV positive. The diagnosis foreshadows the newspaper line "Lucky to be alive," as in, HIV is the harbinger of death, and Bill has managed to evade it. Luckily. The smile on Bill's face when he speaks with Sally is disturbing - unlike Domino who relies on sex for an income, Bill dabbles freely in prostitution but escapes unscathed. 

Bill didn't anticipate Domino's absence, or her disease. But again, the layers: Domino's unfortunate absence is a suggestion of her looming death, if not a literal placement of death-as-human-absence. Also, Domino's salacious presence earlier in the film can actually signal Bill's descent towards the nadir that is Somerton at the half-way point of the film. It has been noted that there are no Christmas trees or decorations at the mansion. Many of the Christmas lights being multi-colored, resembling a rainbow, it could be suggested that Somerton is "where the rainbow ends," i.e., the supposed place where Nuala and Gayle want to take Bill at Victor's annual ball. Bill is hesitant, saying it "depends where that is." Nuala and Gayle press on, saying "let's find out." Bill exercises caution then, but later, with Nick, he exercises no caution. Even when it is a man, and not two women, who is luring him. This just goes into another thesis about the representation of women and how Bill's pursuit stems more from a masculine(?) drive to prove himself than from a feminine drive for pleasure. The women at Somerton are obviously stripped of personality and authentic being, reduced to idols or objects. The irony being that the many female roles are deeply personable, authentic, and seemingly a threat to Bill's masculinity: Alice and daughter Helena - Bill has no sons and apparently no doctor buddies. Nick says he's married with four boys - five men and one woman suggests a more masculine identity. Ziegler is married but obviously a philanderer whose masculine identity exists only through his wealth. He wouldn't personally lay a hand on Bill, but his secret guards might. 

Anyways, speaking of guards, one of Victor's guards interrupts Bill's conversation with the two models, leading Bill up the twisting staircase. The fact that Mandy appears in the next scene might suggest that Somerton is indeed where Nuala and Gayle want to take Bill, since Mandy will also be there. Ziegler's bathroom, if I recall, is not festive - it is cold and echoey. 

Domino has been discarded along the way, just like Mandy Curran and Nick Nightingale. Regarding Nick, one very overlooked deception occurs when an unnamed masked guard at Somerton alerts Bill that his taxi driver wants a word with him. The two begin walking, but the camera cuts to a different guard leading blindfolded Nick Nightingale through a ballroom with partially-clothed couples dancing, and down a corridor. The camera cuts back to the Bill and the other guard, who arrive not at the "door," but back in the great hall, where Red Cloak and the masked attendees/observers are assembled, just like when Bill first entered, except that there is no music or obvious "ritual," and they are specifically awaiting his arrival. Although it could be argued that Bill's unmasking is a ritual in itself of which he is not aware. This may be a ritual of humiliation. There's something medieval and sinister about Bill's "trial" and eventual unmasking. The crowds whisper violently, like a theater audience, as the trial proceeds. 

We don't see Nick seated at his keyboard back in the apse, so it seems Ligeti's theme is non-diegetic. The music is imaginary, perhaps playing in Bill's mind. This is somewhat interesting given that Pook's "Masked Ball" feels entirely non-diegetic, meaning, overlaid upon the film, and not coming from within the film itself. But, we see Nick, and take it that he is maybe playing along to a pre-recorded track. This feels cheap and phony, but it's certainly realistic. On the other hand, Ligeti's theme music is so subtle and fitting that it functions as a character in itself. I've often read it as the presence of fear, suspense, panic, or anxiety. The notes also mimic the stalker's footsteps when he follows Bill. So, the music, again, is a presence, like the sound of footsteps which insinuate a character. Ligeti's theme may even point to Nick's exit from Somerton, in which he, the piano player, is being followed out of the mansion - footsteps. 

2. 

Though effective treatments for HIV/AIDS were discovered in the late 1990s, the epidemic had been politicized for nearly two decades prior, causing widespread public panic. The word "paranoia" could also be used in place of "panic:" though the disease disproportionately affected (and affects) homosexual men, sex workers, and heroin abusers, key aspects of detection and prevention were thwarted on behalf of AIDS activists who lobbied to prevent the FDA from approving a home-use HIV test. HIV/AIDS testing had become politicized - a result of identity politics and fear - leading to it's stigmatization, while condoms were hailed as a new cure-all. In the defense of sufferers, however, involuntary quarantine was seen as a possible threat with draconian undertones: deportation, indefinite isolation, and in effect, imprisonment, all seemed to be on the table. Fear of the consequences of being infected accelerated the fear of being tested. In fact, Communist Cuba enacted a forced quarantine of all HIV/AIDS sufferers that lasted at least eight years, or until the USSR dissolved along with its Cuba funds. Supposedly, this wasn't the full extent of terror: the totalitarian Cuban government targeted "effeminate" men, and those suspected of being homosexual, and deported them to labor camps against their will. Strangely, or not, it was not until 2012 that the ban on home-HIV tests was dropped in the US. Many lives could have been saved, and lifespans extended. 

After Bill leaves Sally's apartment, he realizes he is being followed by the bald man in the tan coat. It has been noted that the same man - or his double - appears earlier in the film, at a table right-front of stage at the Sonata Cafe where Nick Nightingale is playing. Here's a problem: if the spy is at the Sonata Cafe long before Bill makes the potentially-fatal error of appearing at Somerton, is the bald man's presence considered fate or chance? At a symbolic level, the spy and spied-upon being in the same place suggests foreshadowing. Bill is seated higher than the spy, suggesting that Bill is the one in a position to spy on others. His appearance at the Sonata is in itself a suggestion that he is spying on his old friend, Nick. And certainly, Bill overtly peeks at a secret password intended only for Nick and other invited party-goers. Regardless, Bill is not the greatest spy.

It could be that the spy has been sent to follow Bill before Bill makes his clumsy appearance at Somerton. Why? Victor admits he had Bill followed, but he doesn't say when he gave this order. He says he had Bill followed after admitting he knew he showed up at Nick's hotel. Victor certainly seems to have an issue with Nick Nightingale - he calls him a "prick" and "cocksucker." It seems likely the stalker was also tracking Nick's movements. It could be that Victor's private intelligence had been given the go ahead to follow Bill once he approached Nick at Ziegler's party. Their short conversation is interrupted by a bodyguard who leads Nick away. Bill is interrupted twice at Ziegler's party, and at least two times at Somerton (the Columbus-masked man, and the guard). It could be a sort of contractual arrangement between Nick and Victor which prohibits Nick from conversing or socializing. Later, at the Sonata, Nick says to Bill, "I just play the piano," when referring to the secret performance. Indeed, this could indicate that the spy is primarily watching Nick, not Bill. Perhaps, when Nick walks away at Ziegler's party, he confesses to Victor and his personal KGB what he and Bill discussed. Of course, maybe Ziegler made a phone call first thing upon learning Bill was at Somerton - send a guy out and watch his movements as he leaves the mansion. This is believable enough and leads us back to the idea that the spy was following Nick, initially. 

The notion of the "panopticon" comes into play, as does the connotation of the Stasi or KGB (Soviet secret police). Bill is virtually imprisoned by Ziegler's omnipresence (like HAL). The simplest reading is that Bill is being watched in the beginning, and at the end - he is always being watched. I also read this is a way of hinting at another duality: heaven and earth. The camera on the gates of Somerton (hell) is high above Bill but represents something very sinister and dark. 

Maybe the spy is watching Nick, or maybe he's watching Bill, too. If Bill is paranoid, imagine Victor's evil reality - he can't trust his friends, his pianist, or himself. For example, when Bill enters the bathroom, he is confident and cool. Victor is the one who looks nervous and fearful ("scared child" before the painting of the pregnant woman). By the end, the tables have turned, and Bill is doubtful, while Ziegler is in charge. 

3. 

I wanted to keep this post short, but I find Eyes Wide Shut far too fascinating to attempt to gloss over. One very unsettling but seemingly innocuous fact is that Bill's long night of adventures (or misadventures) rests on the assumption that he is at the Nathanson apartment until four in the morning. 

Is it possible that Alice knows about the blonde Marion Nathanson, the daughter of Bill's elderly patient? The more unsettling thing is that by the time Bill gets home and discovers Alice laughing violently in her sleep, he maybe realizes that he hasn't fooled her. Of course, she is laughing at Bill in her dream, but the situation is different. If Bill doesn't realize she's asleep, then it seems Alice is laughing at his attempts not only to fabricate a story, but to pursue infidelities. Again, it seems Alice is not fooled by his story, nor by any suggestion that he has truly achieved any infidelities. This, in a moment, crystallizes the idea of Bill's emasculation. Even if he could have an affair, which he can, he can't commit to the act. There's a cruelty there that Alice seems to be more familiar with, and which Bill is more afraid of. 

We see this in Alice's dream: the orgy she describes mirrors what Bill has just witnessed at the mansion, playing a cruel game with Bill's mind. The question is: was Alice there? What if it had been Alice, wearing only a mask, in one of the libraries, or dining rooms, or parlors at the Somerton mansion, having relations with countless unknown men? So in fact she was there, because Bill can't determine whether Alice's dream was a Freudian example of "wish fulfillment," or whether it was an absurd nightmare. Maybe her tears are only an act of shame, and her dream is a representation of what she truly desires. Perhaps her dream is honest, but she unconsciously reacts with shame upon waking. In an inverse manner, Bill has witnessed an actual massive orgy but has also been unmasked, humiliated, and made to feel guilt or shame over his actions. 

Alice's indiscretions are insidious in that they are one step ahead of Bill's. If Bill is hurt by Alice's first confession, this is understandable. But he should be reassured by her call which serves as a hindrance to any precoital passions experienced with Domino. Had it not been for house-wife Alice calling him, perhaps Bill and Domino would have consummated their chance meeting, and Bill would likely have contracted HIV. In this way, it is practically suggested that Alice has some sort of omniscient power. 

Her dream (after Bill arrives home) suggests that she saw what Bill saw. Her call suggests that she is acting not only in Bill's best interest, but in her own, in that, we can figure that if Bill slept with Domino, he would eventually make love to Alice, passing on the disease to her. Alice not only wants to protect Bill, but herself, and Bill is something of a conduit of herself - sadly, it could be argued that she owns him, that she truly controls him. But, if this is so, does not this represent love absolute - laying down one's life for another? True, except that Alice may be cunning enough to hide her selfishness. The problem with all of this is that Bill and Alice are walking an extremely thin line between safety and danger, and they don't see it - or at least, Bill doesn't. This fact supports the disturbing theory that Alice is the true puppet master, and not Victor. Regardless, the newspaper headline seems to be a central truth of the story: Bill (and Alice, and perhaps Helena too) are "lucky to be alive."

The newspaper headline "Lucky to be Alive" symbolizes at least two instances in which Bill escapes fate: by abstaining from relations with Domino, and, by being pardoned for his trespassing at Somerton. 

But that's not all: the caption below the image in the newspaper tells of a bank robber named Anthony Norman who staged a hostage crisis at the Wyandanch Station of the Long Island Rail Road. 

The name "Anthony Norman" seems oddly familiar. One possibility follows: the name of actor Anthony Perkins can be conjoined with the first name of oedipal-complex killer, Norman Bates, the character whom the former played in Alfred Hitchcock's classic 1960 horror film, Psycho. The name in the newspaper is formed of the two first names of the actor and character, respectively. This may be pure coincidence, but there are more interesting cinematic connections. Perkins, who could pass for Kafka's dark Irish double, in fact played Josef K in Orson Welles' 1962 adaptation of Kafka's The Trial. Only two years after Psycho, and Perkins embodies another victim in a very different horror. Bill Harford's "trial" is at times similar to K's. The bakery next to Domino's apartment, named Josef Kreibich Knish Bakery, is a veiled reference to Josef K, and Kafka, as well a veiled reference to Jewishness. The latter film obviously has a Jewish connotation, while the former is less known. Nathan Abrams writes that Psycho was based on the 1959 novel of the same name by Robert Bloch. The story is based on Ed Gein, the real-life serial killer inspired partly by heinous Nazi crimes (ex: furniture or clothing made from human body parts). Bloch himself and many key figures involved in the production of the film were Jews, and the Freudian aspects obviously owe much to the contentious Jewish-Viennese psychoanalyst. Vienna takes us back to Schnitzler, Freud's supposed double. 

The name, Anthony Norman, seemed oddly familiar the first time I looked closely at the newspaper story. So, I read further: in real life, Perkins spent much of his life in homosexual relationships, though he married Berinthia Berenson, the model and photographer, in 1973 at age 41. Berenson claimed patrilineal Jewish heritage. Abrams also writes that "Norman" was an Anglo name adopted by immigrant Jews in America, the reason being it sounded neutral and normal, and not Jewish. In the semi-fictional news story, Anthony Norman is the name of a bank robber. So, there's a connotation of criminality. Again, being a Jew was borderline criminal for a very long time in Europe; being homosexual is still and was taboo and illegal in many places in the west. "Anthony Norman," at some level, plays at some taboo notion of ultra-criminality - a bank robber, possibly a Jew, possibly gay. Bill is paranoid when he realizes he is being followed - he doesn't know why he is being followed, and he doesn't know which aspect of his character or behavior is being scrutinized, hence the paranoia. 

Perkins was diagnosed HIV positive in 1990 and died two years later, or seven years before the release of Eyes Wide Shut. Berenson died aboard American Airlines Flight 11 during the September 11 terror attacks in New York, 2001, two years after the release of Eyes Wide Shut. 

The Other Aleph: Film as Poetry

Though the word "Aleph" is nearly synonymous with the late Argentine author, Jorge Luis Borges, and makes a few appearances in acrostic Psalms (Ps 37; Ps 119) in the Old Testament, the alphabetic character, idea, and literary source could also figure into The Shining. This parallel may be the product of synchronistic, or, magical thinking, but, The Shining being an overtly psychological horror/thriller film, this idea should not be ruled out simply because it is unusual. Much of what makes The Shining unsettling has to do with the logical inconsistencies, vexatious plot holes, and the subtle but disturbing upheaval of conventional horror tactics ("meditative scares" rather than "jump scares," prolonged, terrifying "climax," etc). Critics often say it has all of the trappings of a typical horror film without being a horror film. 

Kubrick was influenced by Jung's archetypes - universal and indestructible images which hold powerful, unified meanings for all people. The word "synchronicity" itself was coined by Jung, a fact which suggests a mode of thinking that strives to understand disparate phenomena, whether psychological or physical. Jung's influence shows most visibly in Full Metal Jacket and The Shining. The "duality of man" alluded to in the former speaks to Jung's self-explanatory thinking on moral duality: any good attribute has its opposite. This theme is also very strong in Psalms, and very much so in Psalms 37 and 119 where the acrostic references the Hebrew alphabet, each letter introducing an aphorism or prayer that alludes to a conflict and resolution in a few short lines. This in mind, with the ancient notion of good and evil, you almost can't say "man" without meaning man in his duality.   

It isn't coincidental that I mention Borges; when it comes to themes of modernity, especially as it applies to architecture, we should consider that Kubrick had read Borges and Kafka prior to the production of The Shining, and mentions both writers' clear, simplistic style in a 1980 interview with Vicente Molina Foix. This is revealing, if only for the fact that Borges is forever associated with the labyrinth, while Kafka is arguably associated with the urban, alienated individual. The common criticism that Kubrick's films are cold, distant, and even cynical reflects at some level the filmmaker's inspirations. I could go on probably for hours about the implications of Kubrick's intentional employment of coldness, irony, and isolation in his films, but I won't.

Kafka's alienated characters attempt to navigate complex, inhumane, labyrinthine built environments in most of his stories and novels. These environments, such as early-20th century New York, which Karl Rossmann is confronted by in Amerika, are timeless. Before the young man disembarks from the Hamburg America Line (a coincidental reference to HAL9000 in 2001: A Space Odyssey) ship, he makes several missteps, including entrusting his only suitcase to a stranger, and, allowing himself to become embroiled in an argument between the ship's stoker, to whom Karl is sympathetic, and the ship's upper management. Karl Rossmann almost mirrors Dave Bowman, who takes issue with his spaceship's management, namely, the supercomputer HAL. Karl wanders through the dark and winding interior of the ship, which is almost entirely empty of people, just as Bowman and Poole are virtually lost within their spaceship in 2001, only able to communicate with supercomputer HAL, while the other three astronauts hibernate in their coma-pods. By the third and final part of the film, Bowman dismantles HAL and propels the ship through an infinite, dark space, entirely alone. "HAL" mirrors the shipping line in Kafka's novella - both are distant, bureaucratic entities. More could be said of this connection, surely.

But, I was here to talk about The Shining. It doesn't hurt to point out that Kubrick focused on themes of isolation, group dynamics, and individualism many times before. Even Full Metal Jacket, with all of its group dynamics, is still very much about the individual experience of those dynamics, dramatized by a war-time setting (further - in the late '60s, when "group" dynamics would have coincided with communalism, socialism, hippies, etc). Barry Lyndon, too, is about one man making his way to his idea of success in 19th century Europe. In Lolita, the story of Humbert Humbert reflects the dual-natured reality of a single, very troubled man's obsessive (taboo, and illegal) pursuit of a teenaged girl. The Killing could be read through the character of George Peatty, who has been taken advantage of by his wife, friends, and employment - the conspirators representing yet again a rogue group dynamic. A Clockwork Orange centers on the experience of Alex, and Eyes Wide Shut focuses on Bill, yet there are significant examples of group dynamics in both too. 

Back to Borges. In "The Immortal," Borges uses first-person narration to describe the journey a Roman soldier (an alienated individual) makes to a mysterious city.

I had made my way through a dark maze, but it was the bright City of the Immortals that terrified and repelled me. A maze is a house built purposely to confuse men; its architecture, prodigal in symmetries, is made to serve that purpose. In the palace that I imperfectly explored, the architecture had no purpose. There were corridors that led nowhere, unreachably high windows, grandly dramatic doors that opened onto monk like cells or empty shafts, incredible upside-down staircases with upside-down treads and balustrades. Other staircases, clinging airily to the side of a monumental wall, petered out after two or three landings, in the high gloom of the cupolas, arriving nowhere. I cannot say whether these are literal examples I have given; I do know that for many years they plagued my troubled dreams; I can no longer know whether any given feature is a faithful transcription of reality or one of the shapes unleashed by my nights.

Similarly, purposeless and immense structures figure into Amerika in the form of skyscrapers, country estates, hotels, and ships. Like many of Edward Hopper's paintings, individuals, not groups, are camouflaged within the loneliness of large natural, urban, and domestic environments. From the introductory helicopter shots in The Shining, the Overlook Hotel appears enormous, imposing, and castle-like. It is ostentatious, sitting completely isolated on a rugged mountain range. The main idea that can be distilled from the excerpt above is this single line: 

A maze is a house built purposely to confuse men; its architecture, prodigal in symmetries, is made to serve that purpose.

Mirrors, symmetries, dualities - this is what Borges suggests is the basis of confusing, deceptive architecture. Literal mirrors and symbolic "mirroring" is at the core of The Shining and much of Kubrick's work. For instance, consider that Stephen King and Stanley Kubrick have the same initials. "SK" mirrors "SK." King's extreme dislike of Kubrick's interpretation of his novel only exacerbates the idea of dualities or mirrors: King = good, Kubrick = bad. Note also that if we wanted to assign numerical values to these initials, we would arrive at something like: S = 19, K = 11. We can read "SK" like a year: "1911." In the film, the final image we see is a framed photograph showing Jack at the center of a ritzy ball at the hotel, July 4, 1921. This would be 10 years after 1911. As others have noted, 19+11 = 30, and, 1+9+1+1 = 12. Both numbers are of some significance. If, for example, "SK" is "12," then the dual "SK" of King vs. Kubrick spells "12" and "12." Night and day. "24" in total, like hours in a single day. 

As a note on the strangeness of mirrors - when Danny writes "Redrum" in red lipstick on Wendy's bedroom door, he spells the "D" and "R" backwards. When reversed, however, the first four letters "MURD" are correctly spelled, leaving the "ER" backwards-facing. "M" and "U" are symmetrical.

During Jack's first visit to the Gold Room where he imagines a bartender named Lloyd, he refers to the bills he's carrying: two $10s, and two $20s. Jack wants to get rid of these bills. If we add these numbers, we get 60. 60 can be divided in two, to get 30 and 30. But, if we add 60 to 1921, we get 1981 - one year after the film's release. If we presume the film takes place in 1980, when it was released, then we can subtract 60 from 1980 and arrive at 1920. Does Jack want to go back in time? Perhaps. Rob Ager of Collative Learning points out that President Woodrow Wilson placed all American banks under the auspices of the Federal Reserve in 1921, allowing for the banishing of the gold standard. A line of thinking is that the Federal Reserve's refusal to lend money worsened and prolonged the depression. The topic has been subject to many conspiracy theories. Ager has written a good deal about the theme of gold - as color, symbol, and subtext - in The Shining. It appears Kubrick was concerned about the reliability of banks and cash, and at some point advocated buying gold, so it isn't out of the question. If we break apart 1921 and add it's individual figures (1+9+2+1) we arrive at 13. 13 is one more than 12, which is the sum of 1911. 1911 also gives us 11, so we see a similar sequence emerging. In 10 years, we advance 1 step (1931: 1+9+3+1 = 14, etc). 

The pacing of The Shining largely reflects the novelty of steadicam which allowed for long, balanced tracking shots. For this reason, the pacing and visual language of The Shining is architectonic in nature. The rectilinear, maze-like halls of the Overlook Hotel dictate how characters (and the camera) moves. There are certainly exceptions: when Jack intimidates Wendy, forcing her to walk backwards up a large set of stairs, the movement does not follow a straight line. The excessive size of Jack's "writing room" is cartoonish: thirty-foot ceilings, gothic "wheel" chandeliers, Native American tapestries, furnished sitting areas, fireplace, enormous windows, etc. 

13 is a loaded number whose relevance and significance in the film Fell Ryan has shown in a number of instances. If we add 1981 in a similar manner (1+9+8+1) we get 19. 19 mirrors the century in which 1921, 1980, 1942, and 1981 all took place (though we would say twentieth century, not nineteenth). Still, we have 20 and 10 and 19. A lot of bad things happened in years beginning with "19," arguably, too many events to list. 

Consider the office of Stuart Ullman with the impossible window where Jack interviews for the caretaker position. But first, a note on the window: the window is considered impossible because the office is located in the interior of the Overlook Hotel; however, I would speculate that there is a similarity between the office's impossible window and the maze's possible center. Perhaps the Overlook Hotel has a hidden courtyard, like, say, the Pentagon in Arlington County, just across the river from D.C. The Pentagon is a very strange, powerful, and physically enormous example of American Federal architecture. It is, oddly, or not, a modern version of a colonial "star fort," a military fortress built in geometric pattern to maximize defense from invasion. 9/11 would "prove" the compound's weaknesses in a modern warfare environment. Ullman appears very presidential behind the mahogany desk with the small American flag and fountain pens. The White House doesn't have a courtyard, but the Pentagon does. "Caretaker," while a euphemism of "gravedigger," could also be read as "defender" or "protector." It seems Ullman wants Jack to protect and preserve the Overlook. The Pentagon, of course, houses the Department of Defense. Ullman's appearance has been compared to JFK, an idea that, in 1980 as well as now, hints at the dark, dirty story of the late president's assassination. Since his televised, public assassination in 1963, countless conspiracy theories have gained near-mainstream status. 

It would take too much time to recount the significance of the Aleph. But I'll give an overview: the maze as reality and concept is explored several times in The Shining. We are reminded of the Ancient Greek myth of the minotaur in the maze. The mini-epic poem "Catullus 64" by Roman poet, Catullus, is as labyrinthine as the labyrinth at Knossos which it depicts. Theseus, the hero, will slay the minotaur in the labyrinth, and marry Ariadne. Her love has helped him to defeat the minotaur. 

Jack follows Danny into the maze at the Overlook hotel to murder him. Danny outsmarts Jack and reunites with his mother, Wendy, after hiding, and retracing his steps. To the left of Ullman's head is an eagle carving which almost looks like the letter "X."  

Or, does it look like the Aleph?

As has been noted before, the eagle, which appears on Jack's "Stovington" t-shirt, and indirectly, in the Adler typewriter ("Adler" being the German word for "eagle") he uses to type hundreds of pages containing the same 10 words (and 42 characters), is a small but blatant reference to the literal embodiment and representation of the eagle as a symbol of total power and terror. It is less well-known that the Nazis found inspiration in American notions of Eugenics which proliferated with popularity in the early twentieth century. But the eagle does allude to Nazi Germany. The number 42 figures into The Shining in a variety of ways, pointing to the fact that the Final Solution was carried out in 1942. The freezer Hallorann shows the Torrances during the tour of the Overlook Hotel has been compared to a photograph of concentration camp barracks. The resemblance is uncanny. 

"Adler" begins with the letter "A." "A" is the Aleph, and so "aleph" is also "eagle." The eagle carving coincides aesthetically with the Hebrew Aleph. The Aleph was descended from the Phoenician alphabet. The ancient linguists based the shape of the letter on the head of an Ox, which is quite similar to a bull or Minotaur (part bull, part man), as it is a horned cattle/bovine animal. We also have the strange skier poster in the game room where Danny has a vision (of the twins) that may suggest the presence of a minotaur. 

 

The poster is also given the title "Monarch" which suggests the idea of Kings, Kingdoms, and castles. "A" is mighty, and close to God. The Overlook is itself a maze of the Escher kind: the stairs lead down and up simultaneously, depending on our perspective. Wendy ascends or descends; Jack follows or leads; Danny escapes or deceives. 

Mystical Maze

 

Dick Hallorann flies to Colorado once he senses or "shines" that bad things are beginning to happen at the Overlook Hotel. Dick calls his friend, Larry, who owns a gas station and auto-shop, asking to rent a Snow Cat. The telephone dialogue includes the following exchange. 

D: Hi Larry, this is Dick, Dick Hallorann.

L: Dick, how you doing? How's the weather down there?

D: I'm not in Florida, Larry, I'm calling from the Stapleton Airport.

L: What the hell you doing down there?

At first glance, there is little unusual going on here. But, maybe we notice that regardless of whether Dick is in Florida or at the Stapleton Airport in Denver, Larry refers to Dick's location as "down." "Down" is a vernacular term. It doesn't necessarily mean "south" or "below," but conveys familiarity. I seem to remember linguist John McWhorter speaking on a podcast about the word "down" as used in American Southern Black dialects, and how it denotes familiarity. But that's enough. We could also study the words "hell," and, "down." First, though Dick is in Denver, it's a long way to Durkin's garage. He says he is five hours away. Not to get sidetracked, but, we can note the number 5 which I took a bit of a deep dive into in the previous post. In the Book of Genesis, God creates animal life on the fifth day. Animal life is distinct from humanity, or, man, which is created on the 6th day. 5 is the letter "heh" or "e" in Hebrew: ה. And we can guess what follows: the association of Dick, a black man, with the idea of "animal." From a long view, we can see Africans as the more recent ethnic group afflicted by slavery. But even the Jews suffered centuries of slavery at the hands of Pharaoh (and, essentially all other ethnic groups on all continents at one time or another). 

We also have the suggestion that Dick is five hours from Durkin's garage, at which point he will be able to get the Snow Cat and ascend to the Overlook. 5, then, also symbolizes the Overlook, or, the Snow Cat, if the snow vehicle is thought of as an animal. The Overlook is Jack's lair, so, Jack-as-beast/bull becomes reinforced again by the number five. Dick's answer to Larry seems to be unconscious and natural; five is a number (like other odd numbers) used in design to stimulate the eye and to create interesting symmetries. It is also a number that is intuited naturally, supposedly because of human anatomy - the five fingers and five toes we have on each hand and foot. 

Dick has flown from Miami and is going to rent a car to get to Durkin's garage, from which point he will use the Snow Cat to drive up the snowbound road to the Overlook. This is a treacherous voyage - an odyssey of sorts - which could very well also insinuate the idea of wandering in a maze. It may be synchronistic or uncanny to suggest, as others have, that the car Dick drives is an AMC Matador. My primary source here is Idyllopus Press and IMDCb.org. I wouldn't have known, or suspected, this, had I not begun to read Kearns's (Idyllopus P.) review of Killer's Kiss (1955), Kubrick's first non-documentary feature film. Assuming the car pictured is in fact a Matador, then we have the association of Dick Hallorann with a matador, that is, one who fights and/or slays bulls. But, five hours isn't a mere estimate: it is fate itself, a sort of countdown for Dick. Now, it could also be argued that a sort of "metamorphosis" takes place after Dick arrives at Durkin's Garage. That is, Dick "becomes" an animal when he takes the Snow Cat. Also of interest is the fact that the Overlook is pictured as a mountain. Think of sacrifices, visions, and burnt offerings in the Bible - the Binding of Isaac by Abraham on Mount Moriah, Jesus Crucified on Golgotha (literally, Skull), Elijah on Mount Carmel, the Transfiguration of Jesus on Mt. Tabor, etc. Some of the most important events occurred on high places. Symbolically, the Overlook arguably borrows from the Judeo-Christian tradition. If Dick is transformed, then Jack also becomes a beast, or minotaur, that is, half man/half beast. 

I was compelled to read Kearns's review after observing some uncanny and unsettling symbols in the film which dovetail with nearly all of Kubrick's films. For my purposes here, I'll just note that the first title card in Killer's Kiss reads "A Minotaur Production." It almost seems too good to be true: a sort of dead giveaway to what the viewer is entering into - and I don't mean the world of Killer's Kiss, but, arguably the filmic fictional universe Kubrick spent his whole life creating. But, again, this topic is best suited for another post. Returning to the (definitely not Freudian) idea of Dick's odyssey, we can see from the shots of the runway, and from Durkin's Garage, that the weather resembles a frozen hell. 

A note on the name, "Hallorann." This nine-letter name (with the unusual double "n") is a rendition of "O'Halloran," an Irish/Gaelic surname (also with nine letters; Hallorann and O'Halloran would combine to be 9+9=18). The roots of this surname trace back to County Galway as well as County Clare in Ireland. A Wiki entry suggests the name means "stranger," or, "from across the sea," as this ancient family worked importing goods. This is an interesting choice for Dick's surname for several reasons. The prefix "Hallo-" recalls "hallow," as in the word "hallow," meaning saint, or, "hallowed," meaning something that is sacred. "Halloween" is a way of saying "All Hallows Eve," which is a Pagan-adapted Christian celebration of departed saints, martyrs, and all of the dead. From this, we have the association of Dick Hallorann with something sacred or saintly. He is, after all, murdered, or martyred (interesting that these two words are near-homophones) by Jack, or, the Overlook. And, this is a minor problem: who is the killer - Jack, or, the Overlook? Grady, I think, will shed some wisdom on this matter, which I will come back to shortly.

Another note on Dick's name as it relates to Kubrick's catalog: Redmond Barry, the grifter of "low birth," as his step-son, Lord Bullingdon, notes (again, the idea of "down"), later known as Barry Lyndon, hails from Ireland. Redmond is an outsider or "stranger" who also crosses the Irish Sea and the English Channel in his journey - O'Halloran/Hallorann would fit Redmond just as well. Philip Stone, who plays Grady, the caretaker, in The Shining, also plays Graham, who manages Barry's debts in Barry Lyndon. Graham/Grady are somewhat familiar names beginning with "G," and, Graham is something of a "caretaker" for Barry's failing estate/peerage. It may be a stretch, but it could probably be suggested that, just as Grady appears in Jack's imagination, only to become "real" once Jack looks in a mirror in the red bathroom, Graham appears in the film only when Barry seems desperate to escape from reality. The narrator tells us: 

Barry was now bound up in an inextricable toil of bills and debts, of mortgages and insurances, and all of the evils attendant upon them, and Lady Lyndon's income was hampered almost irretrievably to satisfy these claims. 

After these lines the camera cuts to a frontal shot of Graham which is emotionally neutral. From this introduction of Graham, the camera cuts to a shot of Barry, son Bryan, and a Labrador retriever fishing from a small rowboat in a pastoral river - a very English take on escapism. Like countless other shots in the film, the stillness of the scene mimics that of a painting. The scene looks dreamlike, as if taken from a Constable painting. The camera slowly zooms out to capture a complete landscape. The shot is about thirty seconds long. Most impressive probably is that the dog remains mostly still for the entirety of it, and, that there's a swan in the river in the background. Lastly, its possible that the river is the "mirror" in this scene, as a reflection of the boat can be seen in the water. This ties back somewhat to Jack (in red coat) looking into the mirror in the (red) bathroom after being confronted by Grady, the double of Graham.

In The Shining, the confusion of identities, reinforced by the presence of mirrors in the red bathroom, approaches its zenith when Grady states that Jack has "always been the caretaker." Grady says "I should know sir, I've always been here." Jack is clearly looking to the right of Grady, into the mirrors. The word "here" is problematic coming from Grady (or, more accurately, Jack's concept of Grady). It could refer to the mirror in which Jack is looking. I think, at first glance, we take it that he is referring to the Overlook. And this is fine, but, we arrive at some disturbing and complex ideas when we consider that Grady is confronting Jack. If Grady has always been "here" in the mirror image of Jack, then this is a final call to violence. Grady clearly addresses Hallorann and Danny, while Jack blames Wendy. In a sense, Grady is an image projected out from the mirror. At Jack's left, this could very well suggest the idea of an immoral, evil influence. What becomes disturbing is that this confrontation only arises when Jack looks into a mirror. In this way, Jack is his own worst enemy; his greatest evils are accomplished only when he first considers himself. This is disturbing: that the mirror arouses or reignites a homicidal persecution complex in the looker - at least, when it is Jack. Note that Wendy and Danny "see murder" in mirrors, but do not will it. 

We also have a delicate layering of facts and symbols that relate to the Jack/Overlook duality I mentioned earlier. If Jack has always been the Caretaker, is this role exclusive to the Overlook? This would mean that Jack, too, has always been here, like Grady says. And, again, if Grady in this scene is a projection (or reflection?) of Jack's imagination/will, then perhaps Jack wishes to believe that he has always been at the Overlook. Interesting also is that Grady is called Charles and Delbert in the film. Are there two Gradys? This confusion may point to the idea of family and offspring, or father/son. This parallels the Jack/Danny dynamic as well, except that Danny appears to want to escape the cycle of violence. Grady-as-Jack's-worst-self positions Jack as a sort of "captain" or "director" at the helm of the Overlook. And yet, we know Jack has had a violent past - his abstaining from alcohol while at the Overlook seems to induce psychosis, whereas, his abuse of alcohol led to a rash outburst of violence against Danny. So, Jack is violent regardless of his location. Whether or not the Overlook causes violence per se is unclear.  

Yet we have another connection: Clare Quilty, the shapeshifting villain played by Peter Sellers in Kubrick's Lolita, is a third link back to Ireland, County Clare, and the idea of a "stranger." Although Clare gives the impression of being an insider, he has multiple disguises, rendering his true identity a mystery. Also, "Quilty" is the name of a fishing village in County Clare. The word "Quilty" is taken from a Gaelic word "coillte" that means "forest" or "woods." "Quilty," of course, is related to "guilty" when it comes to Lolita. The next question is the relationship between "guilt" and "woods." I think if we look at Hallorann's first name, and remember the teddy bears of The Shining and Eyes Wide Shut, we can make some Freudian connections. 

Hallorann and Clare Quilty are two very different characters, of course. The contextual information ties the different films together, suggesting that these works all share a common language. Begin listening to dialogue in Kubrick's films, and it becomes clear that many, many times, words are chosen for their symbolic and connotative power. It is difficult to imagine researching the connections in a time before the internet - researching the films, the cast, and various contextual clues would be a task far more difficult than it is today. The ease of access to information from times near and distant may distort our reading, maybe, but, it could be said that Barry Lyndon is a very modern, relatable story equal parts coming-of-age, and family drama/tragedy. Likewise, The Shining, in a less direct way, uses contemporary familiarity to frame history, particularly, American history, but also world history. 2001 features similar universal themes - imagining the future, imagining interplanetary travel, etc., but also imagining the past, and the very distant past. 

_

At first, Larry thinks Dick is calling from Miami, indicating that he thinks Dick is somewhere hot. Again, we have the word "hell," which will tie back to Miami. I mean, their NBA team is the Heat. But, Dick is in Colorado. Simply put, we have the idea of "hell freezing over" when Larry learns Dick is at the Stapleton Airport. Larry seems somewhat shocked by this information. Is Colorado the symbolic frozen hell Dick has unknowingly escaped into? I tend to think so. And, is hell a maze? It could be - it doesn't hurt that Dante's vision of hell is highly complex, gruesome, and labyrinthine. 

The Overlook itself is a "maze" inside of which Dick becomes trapped. Unlike Danny who re-traces his steps and hides from Jack within the hedge maze outside, Dick is not so lucky. Dick, then, has found the "beast" within the real maze, while Danny has evaded the beast in a symbolic maze. The best clue I have to support the idea of the hedge maze's unreality is the cut from Jack looking at the model maze in his Great Hall/writing room to an aerial shot showing Wendy and Danny walking in the middle of the maze. The camera zooms slowly, convincing us that Jack has a sort of omniscient eye (or third eye - like some kind of... beast). Also, interestingly, is that a zoom shot from an aerial view leaves a considerable amount of directional ambiguity: are we going downward, or are we going into, or through? Like the "stargate sequence" in 2001, the camera is zooming toward a fixed center point, creating a one-point perspective. It's almost a cliche except that it isn't.  

This directional or spatial ambiguity brings me back to the words "hell" and "down" which Larry uses when talking to Dick. Is hell a place we descend into, or, that we move through? Hell as imagined by Dante is somewhat labyrinthine, not unlike the strange labyrinths in the works of Kafka and Borges, whose stories Kubrick had been reading during the production of The Shining. The genius of the Overlook is that it becomes a maze, or labyrinth, almost from the instant we see it. After the Gold Room and Room 237, do we really want to know what's lurking in all of the hotel's many other rooms? 

The first image below is a fade from Wendy and Danny in the maze to Jack walking in the "Great Room" of the Overlook. There's a lot more going on in this shot I won't get to here. If Danny's three-wheel journeys aren't convincing enough, this fade surely suggests symbolic continuity between the literal maze and the Overlook. 

Jack walks over to the model maze and begins to look at it.

The subsequent shots build tension with the last shot ending with a slow zoom inward, towards the center. There are many mazes at play. First is the actual hedge maze. Second, there is a map of the maze just outside the maze. Third, there is a model of the maze - noticeably different from the map - in Jack's writing room. Fourth, there is the maze in which Jack sees Wendy and Danny walking. Clearly, the maze Jack sees is not the model maze. It also does not resemble the map of the hedge maze. But it does look realistic. Assuming it is the real maze, then obviously, Jack's vision isn't possible. Yet, there it is. The paradox of Jack's omniscience endures. 

There are some minor or major problems I will also address now, to get them out of the way. 

1. If Jack can see the maze, does Jack know where Danny is hiding when he is searching for him? It might be suggested Jack only sees the real maze when he looks at the model. But the initial cut from Jack to the aerial shot of the maze suggests Jack has omniscient abilities. 

2. Does the aerial shot represent Jack's imagination? If so, what kind of imagination does Jack have? There is nothing "imaginative" about the vision. It's impersonal and robotic - as if it were actually HAL who was looking. Films often use flashbacks or stylistically embellished cuts to suggest a character is imagining something personal. This makes it easy for the audience. Kubrick doesn't do this. The steady zoom is sort of like a crosshair - not a good sign. Wendy's red coat, some critics and viewers have noted, might resemble a drop of blood while the center of the maze appears to be the top of a pyramid - indicating sacrifice. So much is going on here it can be difficult to order the layers of symbols. 

3. If Jack knows where Danny is hiding, is Jack intent on self-destruction? If Jack won't be loved by Danny, then Jack will be feared by Danny. As Machiavellian as it sounds, we see Jack offer very polarized behaviors, either deep suspicion or deep love towards Danny. If Jack knows where Danny is hiding, then his searching is just a show, or "charade" to make sure Danny remains afraid. We can recall too that Jack's conversation with Grady hints at the idea that Jack is receiving secret and important information or intelligence about a conspiracy against him. Jack does seem guilt-ridden after his dream he confesses to Wendy about killing her and Danny and cutting them up. Or, is this a play to win himself some more time? But, maybe the guilt of killing Dick drives Jack to purge himself. I'm not convinced by this, because Jack seems unconsciously blood-drunk - he isn't speaking or thinking, but groaning and howling like a beast. 

_

In other news, I was recently reading up on the former Stapleton International Airport. One of the last times I watched The Shining, I realized that Dick says "Stapleton" and not, "Denver Airport," or "Denver International," etc. This cued me in to consider the history - were there two airports, or, was Stapleton older? Both are correct. The Stapleton International Airport operated from 1929-1995, and before 1944 was called the Denver Municipal Airport. Like the current Denver International Airport, Stapleton was near the top of the list for busiest airports in the world. Due to space constraints caused by suburbanization and the growth of the flight industry, the Denver International Airport was planned in the 1980s, though the history of DIA is spotty at best. The DIA is about 17 miles northeast of Stapleton, which is about 7 miles east from Downtown Denver. DIA is about 25 miles from Downtown, which means it can be a bit of a drive to and from the city. At 52 square miles, DIA is the biggest US airport, at almost twice the size of the Dallas Fort-Worth Airport, which is a very large compound. 

Stapleton was named after Benjamin Stapleton, a man who held multiple government positions including two periods (five terms) as mayor of Denver (1923-1931, and, 1935-1947), as well as State Auditor. He helped establish the VFW after the Spanish-American War, in which he fought, and later had a hand in the creation of Red Rocks Amphitheater, Denver Civic Center, Denver Mountain Parks, and of course, the municipal airport. Stapleton was also to become a member of the Denver Ku Klux Klan in the early 1920s. As the Klan helped raise funds for his mayoral campaign, Stapleton made overtures to the organization. But this unity wouldn't last: in the nineteen-teens until about 1925, the Klan had considerable influence in Colorado civics, only to dissolve after legal troubles involving local Klan elites. The western state of Colorado was overwhelmingly white and protestant, and the message of the Klan took root, specifically targeting Jews and Catholics, as traditional southern blacks were seldom found in that arid mountain state (though there are stories of "freedmen" who came to Colorado and the mountain West). The degree to which Stapleton was involved in the group is not so clear, but, it is clear that he "renounced" the group's influence after 1925. The Klan in Denver was already experiencing a decline, so it seems that Stapleton was merely playing politics. 

Stapleton was a Democrat, but this doesn't mean the Klan didn't hold sway for Republicans - Republican Senator Lawrence Phipps from Colorado benefitted from the long arm of the Klan during the same time period. There are plenty of other examples - political party was of little importance when it concerned the interests of the Klan. Which, I guess, brings us to today: Stapleton's grandson, Walker Stapleton, has been sort of pre-cancelled for trying to scrub from the records his grandfather's maybe dubious moral character. This was in 2018, when he ran unsuccessfully on the Republican bill for Governor of Colorado. Walker has also served as State Treasurer, and is a second cousin of George W. Bush. Ironically, Walker might be one of the least threatening figures on the political right.

Most politicians with known ties to the KKK, it must be noted, were southern Democrats. And, of course, Lincoln, a Midwesterner and a Republican, who is credited with enacting the Emancipation Proclamation, virtually ending (or phasing out) slavery, was rewarded with a mortal gunshot wound. The ironies remain fascinating: these liberal and progressive ideas were coming from the then "right," while restraint and caution was being exercised from the "left." Of course, then, the "right" would have been the true "left," and vice versa. At least, until we expand the notion of "white supremacy" to mean segregation, hierarchy, economic and cultural separation, "one drop" laws, etc. The South at that time, in this way, starts to appear like a vestigial remnant of the British Empire, clinging to its old hegemony. It is only ironic that places like Colorado, Washington, and Oregon are current strongholds for liberalism and progressive policy, given their historic and current high concentration of white caucasian people, exclusionary laws, and white nationalist groups. 

After the Stapleton Airport was demolished, the area was developed into the eponymously named neighborhood. After the George Floyd riots of 2020, the year of absolute, perfect hindsight, residents voted to change the name from "Stapleton" to "Central Park." A small victory, I suppose.

Progress of Flight mural

I remember hearing about the Denver International Airport conspiracy theories shortly before flying there several years ago. Numerous facts highlight the unusual nature of the airport. The footprint of the airport is vast (as stated above, 52 square miles, which, coincidentally, is the reverse of the number of miles to the city center of Denver - 25). Supposedly, five buildings were constructed - and subsequently buried - for reasons unknown, meaning there are several navigable stories underground. There is a rail system beneath the airport, as well as a light-rail connection to downtown. There are surreal, apocalyptic, revelatory paintings by Leo Tanguma, a Mayan painter, inside the airport. There are "white peaks" on the airport roof - a Masonic connection - not to mention a dedication stone which mentions Freemasonry. There is a sculpture of a blue horse with red eyes called "Blucifer" (that supposedly killed the sculptor, Luis Jimenez, while it was being constructed) visible from Pena Boulevard. Driving on 470 through an introduction to the arid plains of the Denver Basin, the white peaks - and strange horse - appear as if out of nothing. From an aerial view, there are clearly four runways that form a compass - north, south, east, and west. It also resembles a swastika, which, long before the Third Reich claimed it, was a traditional symbol of peace and harmony in myriad ancient cultures across all major continents. 

Still, after having researched the stories of DIA, Stapleton, and the Klan, I only feel a mistrust towards any speculation. I should probably also mention the story of Alan Berg, the Jewish atheist talk radio host who was murdered in cold blood in 1984 by members of David Lane's white supremacist group The Order. Berg was working at KOA, an AM talk radio station in Denver, at the time of his murder. Upon arriving home and exiting his black Volkswagen Beetle, the gunmen approached and shot him twelve times. The motivation is disturbingly simple: his killers and their leader believed that Jews were evil and needed to be eliminated. The gunmen and co-conspirators were convicted, but, surprisingly, not for homicide - much less, murder. I begin to wonder about the concepts of law, liberty, and justice, in theory and in practice. 

This incident was several years after The Shining played in theaters. The VW beetle in Stephen King's novel, and the two beetles (yellow and red) in the film, become unlikely and unintended portents of hate-driven violence. It has long been noted that Kubrick changed the color of the Torrance's VW beetle from red - as it is in the novel - to yellow. He then stages a red beetle smashed by a semi-truck on the side of the interstate during Dick's long ascent to the Overlook - possibly a subtle way of shrugging off King's authorial control. These details only frame the Berg assassination more ominously. Berg's beetle was neither red, nor yellow, but black - seemingly, the color of void, finality, death. 

All of this in mind, I would like to know whether Kubrick researched much into Colorado state history, Denver history, and the status of the Klan in America during his lifetime while working on films like The Shining.