Mike Flanagan undertook a monumental challenge: adapting a Stephen King novel, a feat in itself given King’s richly descriptive style, and crafting a sequel to “The Shining,” often hailed as the pinnacle of horror cinema. Just the sheer act of bringing Doctor Sleep to the screen deserves commendation, attempting to satisfy both ardent King readers and film aficionados. However, acknowledging the effort doesn’t excuse certain filmmaking missteps that unfortunately plague not only Doctor Sleep but also a trend of resurrected intellectual properties. Doctor Sleep revisits Dan Torrance, now a troubled alcoholic still bearing the deep scars of the Overlook Hotel from The Shining. His fragile peace is shattered when he encounters Abra, a young girl with extraordinary psychic abilities, who is being relentlessly pursued by the True Knot, a terrifying group of energy-draining entities.
Having not delved into the novel, but being a seasoned viewer of Kubrick’s The Shining, I approached Doctor Sleep with a blend of anticipation and trepidation. Kubrick’s masterpiece, while rooted in King’s novel, became its own distinct entity, a cinematic vision that King himself has famously had a complex relationship with. Flanagan’s ambition to weave in faithful elements of Doctor Sleep while honoring Kubrick’s cinematic legacy seemed, frankly, insurmountable. The inherent challenge lies in the novels’ overt supernatural elements clashing with the more psychological and atmospheric terror that Kubrick masterfully cultivated. Regrettably, doctor sleep review must conclude that the film, while not entirely without merit, ultimately falls short of its ambitious goals.
While Doctor Sleep manages to stand on its own feet, it leans heavily on somewhat clunky storytelling devices and, crucially, nostalgia, in its attempt to bridge the gap between its literary and cinematic inspirations. The tonal differences between the source materials are undeniable. However, before dissecting the disappointing final act, it’s essential to acknowledge the film’s strengths.
Image alt text: Young Danny Torrance’s terrified expression in The Shining poster, highlighting the childhood trauma that Doctor Sleep explores.
One of Doctor Sleep‘s most compelling aspects is its portrayal of childhood trauma and the insidious ways in which fragmented coping mechanisms manifest in adulthood. Young Danny’s imaginative mental fortresses, designed to contain the malevolent spirits of the Overlook, are a poignant illustration of a child’s attempt to grapple with unimaginable horrors. Yet, this very resilience becomes a flawed foundation for adulthood, failing to prevent his descent into alcoholism, substance abuse, and a self-destructive lifestyle that merely masks, rather than heals, his deep-seated trauma. This thematic exploration provides a powerful and cohesive thread throughout the narrative. For the initial two hours, the audience develops a palpable empathy for Danny, understanding the origins of his torment. Ewan McGregor delivers a captivating performance, embodying a fragile psyche with a physically demanding portrayal, echoing the haunted demeanor of his younger self.
The film’s opening hour, dedicated to explaining “the shining” and introducing the predatory True Knot, suffers from tonal inconsistencies due to a rapid succession of locations and time jumps. One moment we are in a quiet town, the next in a woodland setting, and then suddenly, eight years have elapsed. This rapid-fire editing and exposition dump unfortunately undermine the atmospheric tension. The pacing feels rushed, and attempts to emulate Kubrick’s directorial style fall noticeably short, lacking the master’s subtle build-up of dread.
However, the second hour marks a significant upswing, arguably becoming one of the strongest stretches of cinema this year. Flanagan unexpectedly embraces a darker tone, pushing boundaries to a point where some viewers reportedly left the theater. The exploration of Abra’s mind-space, a gifted teenager with “the shine,” becomes a visually arresting and psychologically intense battleground against Rose the Hat, the charismatic yet ruthless leader of the True Knot. Rebecca Ferguson’s portrayal of Rose the Hat is nothing short of sensational. She ascends to the ranks of iconic King villains, rivaling Pennywise in her captivating menace. Sinister, relentless, and teetering on the edge of madness, Ferguson commands every scene with sheer presence, amplifying the palpable tension and single-handedly elevating the film. The sudden bursts of gore and darkness in this middle act were genuinely surprising and hinted at a bolder direction that, sadly, the film doesn’t fully commit to in its final act.
Image alt text: Rebecca Ferguson’s chilling portrayal of Rose the Hat in Doctor Sleep, emphasizing her captivating and menacing presence as the film’s antagonist.
Then arrives the third act, and the narrative structure, much like the Overlook Hotel itself, begins to crumble. It becomes infected by the very malady that subtly undermined parts of The Shining: nostalgia. Remember Jack Torrance’s axe assault on the bathroom door? The elevator of blood? Room 237? The iconic opening Steadicam shot? The typewriter? The menacing stairwell confrontations? The snow maze? The Grady twins? Flanagan seemingly assumes you do, and heavily. Nostalgia, while potent, is a delicate instrument. The line between homage and imitation is razor-thin, and Doctor Sleep unfortunately stumbles into the latter.
The third act becomes a near scene-for-scene replication of The Shining, devoid of the original’s narrative weight and subtext. The recasting of original characters, while Kyliegh Curran as Abra Stone arguably surpasses Shelley Duvall’s performance (though a low bar), feels largely gratuitous, almost cheapening the legacy of The Shining. Danny’s extended walk through the dilapidated Overlook hallways, punctuated by shot-for-shot recreations, serves no narrative purpose beyond forcefully reminding the audience, “This is the sequel!” It contributes nothing to Danny’s character arc or plot progression. Rose the Hat gazing at blood cascading from elevators? Pointless imitation. Danny staring at an axe encased in glass? A more subtle, acceptable nod to its predecessor. The distinction lies between homage and imitation. The third act is saturated with hollow copies, preying on fan nostalgia. It’s uninspired, mundane, and ultimately, makes the film feel somewhat dull.
In conclusion, Doctor Sleep creatively blends elements of its source novel and cinematic predecessor, but unfortunately amplifies the weakest storytelling tendencies in its execution. It’s psychologically engaging without generating genuine dread, and extrasensory without truly testing the senses. Ultimately, doctor sleep review finds it to be a dimly shining entry in the Stephen King adaptation canon, flickering rather than blazing.
