For a long time, I resisted Stanley Kubrick’s films because when young men of my acquaintance talked of them (and it was always young men, yes) they did so with a sort of thoughtless superiority that suggested I wouldn’t understand. That feeling was only reinforced when I finally watched my first Kubrick: I was shown Dr. Strangelove in a grade eleven politics class. The teacher of the class was so excited to show it to us his face was bright pink, but the heights of its ironies rather eluded me. That sense, of never quite getting a grip, persisted as I saw more and more Kubrick. The only one I ever felt I “got” was The Shining. I always thought it was about a family in the grip of an abuser, who successfully isolates them, and then bullies them into a state of abject terror. One perhaps augmented by a few unfriendly ghosts, sure, but the ghosts are simply trying to shock the wife and child enough to get out, I thought. Well, along comes a new documentary, Room 237 to tell me that there are many people in the internet who think people like me miss the boat. I, apparently, was being way too literal, missing numerous references to the Holocaust, the conquest of Native Americans, and the nature of dreams.