After having over a meter (3 feet for my fellow Americans) of snow fall on us in just a few days, the isolated and trapped feeling gave us great cause to want to watch the ultimate cabin fever-in the depth of winter film. Regardless of how many times one has seen The Shining, it never loses that overwhelming sense of dread.

As soon as Jack Torrance is in frame, that uneasy feeling takes over. I feel as though I wish I could warn all of the other characters in the movie to walk on eggshells, don't upset him! Maybe you shouldn't talk to him right now! Can't you see it! Just leave him alone! There has never been another character…

Jack, Wendy, and Danny spending the winter at the Overlook Hotel. The interview. Fuckin' Tony. Cabin fuckin' Fever. Blood. Closing day. High elevation. Cannibals. Darts. Twins. The Gold Room. Fuckin' Dick. Danny loves Ketchup. TANG. The Shine. Fuck you Room 237! Power fuckin' Wheels. A typewriter. Wall ball. Mini-maze. Jack the Grouch. Jack's sweater. High-tech audio equipment. O-VER. The way Danny closes his eyes. Mickey Mouse. Awesome fuckin' carpet. Losing your fuckin' mind. Jack's fuckin' eyes. Jack's fuckin' laugh. Lloyd's wise words. A confession. Foxy paintings. Tits in the water. Fuck you mirror! Olive fuckin' Oyl. Jeeves. Red, Red, Rum. The trance. A jet plane. Rocky's corner man. Road Runner. Louisville Slugger. Dull fuckin' Jack. Stairs. Trapped. Snow. A big-ass…

What defines the greatest horror film of all time? Is it the film that most unsettles and terrifies you? Is it the film that rewards repeat viewings, never diluting the film’s impact no matter how many times you watch it? Or is it the film so expertly crafted whether it be the tight plotting, career defining performances or flawless direction, that it comes close to perfection? Whatever way you define greatness The Shining inevitably comes out on top.

I have vivid memories of watching Kubrick’s masterpiece for the first time. Like all the best horror experiences I was far too young to really watch it, and despite hearing stories about it in the playground, nothing can really prepare you for…

Part of Hoop-Tober

“I’m sorry to differ with you sir, but you are the caretaker. You’ve always been the caretaker. I should know, sir—I’ve always been here.”

Solitude has a way of driving a man mad. The uninterrupted stream of one’s thoughts, the isolated expanses that double as metaphoric existential crises, the insipid sameness of the day to day. Hence the age-old proverb in favor of building bridges rather than walls. It is a trite observation, one as old as time but no less valid for its prevalence. From the demoniac bellowing in the hills until Jesus relieved him of his burden (and doomed some poor swine) to Miss Havisham moldering in her wedding dress to Alfred Packer and his…