Jonathan Kieran

Post-Christmas Dinner Indolent Activity of 20023: Cratering in bed with the iPad nearby, earbuds in place, and TUBI subscription playing one of the recent big screen adaptations of a Steven King novel.

Guilty of Vehicular Fanslaughter: DOCTOR SLEEP

Starring: Ewan McGregor and an assortment of check-listy types.

Verdict: Steven King film adaptations have been hit-or-miss since the days of the deliciously wonderful CARRIE. In the case of DOCTOR SLEEP, the film begins with some promise as the “sequel” to King’s opus (and Stanley Kubrick’s eerie) THE SHINING, as it follows the adult drunkenness and redemptive arc of Danny Torrance—the “shining” towheaded tot from the original story and film.

As an adult, Danny is still haunted by memories (and ghosts) of The Overlook hotel and has turned to the bottle to suppress his telepathic/clairvoyant abilities. His life is pretty “Skid Row” and grimy, but he finds eventual refuge in a kindly gent from Alcoholics Anonymous, a do-gooder who is more than eager to appear out of nowhere, offer to set Danny up in an apartment, and give Danny a job working in Teeny Town—a local children’s amusement park that features “teeny” versions of attractions that make Disney’s Teacup Ride look more exciting than a Six Flags Roller Coaster of Death.

Working at Teeny Town, Danny eventually achieves eight years of sobriety, though it’s a wonder that employment as a low-level carny for nearly a decade at Teeny Town doesn’t drive him nightly to the bottom of a fifth of Jack Daniels. At some point, Danny’s idyllic, everyday craptastic life is interrupted by telepathic radio signals from a little girl across the country who also has the ability to “shine.”

Problem is, the little girl—cleverly named “Abra” from the first two syllables of the generic magic word Abracadabra—is being hunted by a troupe of semi-vampiric skanks who travel the nation in campers and RVs, sensing and seeking people who have the “shine” so that they can kill them and eat their vaporous powers, which are then stored in handy little canisters that look like martini shakers from the set of an old Stark Trek: Next Generation bar & grill. The leader of the vagabond bunch of Shine-Suckers is a smug, yoga-chanting hippie-chick named Rose.

Basically, everything about the movie disintegrates into pap by the middle of the story and, surprise of surprises, Danny has to join forces with Abra to defeat the motley caravan of kid-murdering Telepathy-Sniffers. This dilemma eventually leads them back to (you guessed it) the Overlook Hotel in Colorado for a kind of blended nostalgia tour/telekinesis showdown.

Everything is scatterbrained, disconnected, arbitrarily hog-piled like broken dishes in a dirty kitchen sink at this point and the whole enterprise becomes an incoherent shambles. There are numerous laughable moments that are not intended to be so. Plot holes abound. Ewan McGregor (as Danny) looks embarrassed—as he should be. It’s bilge. The Smarts will stay away but the Stupids will probably think it’s Michelangelo worthy.

Perhaps the most asinine of many asinine scenes comes when an actor imitating Jack Nicholson operates the infamous ballroom bar at the Overlook and tempts sniveling Danny (McGregor) to partake once more of the glorious hooch. He should have. I wanted to drown my brain in Hennessy by this stage of the disaster occurring before my weary eyes.

I’m certain that King’s original novel had to be light years better than this sun-blistered barrel of rotting fish guts. Then again, who knows, these days?

Watch the original The Shining or reread King’s masterful classic for a more illuminating horror experience.

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[ Delightful new work by Jonathan Kieran is slated for major release beginning in Spring 2024 so brace yourselves and think of England. This stuff is built for speed. Stay tuned for more … ]

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