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2 (out of 4)
Stephen King's spot on the big screen is more illustrious than ever and just as inconsistent. Even in an already big year for the heavyweight author – a Pet Sematary reboot, It Chapter Two, even In the Tall Grass for Netflix – the creative impotence of Doctor Sleep would feel more like King's fault if the movie didn't principally function as an inevitable consequence of the 1980 interpretation of The Shining.
Since no one's ever clamored for a King screenplay save for Creepshow, the story goes the more detached he is from the reworkings of his books the purer the results, most evidently felt in the lingering predominance of Stanley Kubrick's hallmark of the horror horizon some 40 years out. That said, I wasn’t automatically pessimistic to hear King’s latent continuation of his famous 1977 novel was being fit for the screen courtesy of the runaway success of 2017’s It. Considering Doctor Sleep invariably must exist as a curiously inconsequential follow-up to maybe Kubrick’s most inscrutable creation, as both a fresh King adaptation and a dormant sequel it soon becomes apparent that this film's artistic task was impossible.
But what matters by the time you sit your ass in the theater is the story find some way justify its stupendously ill-advised undertaking and ridiculously indulgent two and a half hours. At the outset Mike Flanagan's feature looks like it's navigating a divergent nightmare, but Doctor Sleep is ultimately so dysfunctional as entertainment and can be so promptly discredited as cinema because of the fatal choice to perpetually hammer home Kubrick’s influence. Flanagan is certainly no force of filmmaking nature akin to Stanley but honestly who is? As a sharp marksman of B-movie diligence – Oculus is a treat, better than his triptych of Netflix joints (the shrewd slasher Hush, the dim-witted dreams of Before I Wake, and an antithetically pocket-sized King adaptation Gerald’s Game) – Flanagan is a man of quiet consistency, and at the very least his gloomy voice as a lesser, yet practiced digital auteur is intact, the only factor shaking off a few of Doctor Sleep's inescapable cinematic shadows. Even as the film’s writer, editor and director, who’s to say how much of his voice was left untouched since there’s King’s capital K Krazy source material to consider and Warner Brothers' itch for a movie proportionate to Kubrick’s deliberate, initially alienating calculations.
By egregiously citing Kubrick’s premeditated dexterity, Flanagan's Hollywood break is incapable of emerging as its own thing. Despite a radical shift in the internal mythology, Doctor Sleep never fails to act as a stylistic simulacrum of The Shining’s meticulously mind-dissolving psychological trip. The exact score (harsh horns, nebulous, spectral ambiance and those heartbeat jungle drums) and visual references (imposing symmetry, glacially superimposed transitions, haunting tracking shots) are feel more plagiarism than homage, serving to always remind you of its predecessor's perfection especially when King's story solemnly unravels the most boring, witless X-Men tale of all time.
Yet all the paling in comparison there is can't discount the fact that Ewan McGregor will forever play a creditable protagonist and Rebecca Ferguson continues to exercise villainesses as her exquisite forte. A friend told me if the movie reminded him of that dreadful sequence from Ready Player One it'd be the kiss of death, and with pointless reproductions of memorable Shining moments by lookalikes (um, WB you do own the original footage correct?) the worst has been realized. As with Spielberg's conundrum, reverence alone does not suffice to give you a pass no matter how intrinsically great the source – and whether the "material" of Doctor Sleep is more Kubrick's film or King's book, the movie just kind of sucks either way.
To keep it brief...
Soon to Come:
The Rise of Skywalker
A Hidden Life
"So what've you been up to?"
"Escaping mostly... and I escape real good."
- Inherent Vice