We love escapism in m⭕ovies, but what happens when a film’s mysteries prove so ma꧅gnetic that we can’t escape them?

All kinds of merr🧔iment and mad readings, according to Rodney Ascher’s hilarious, head-spinni🎀ng docu-study of one such movie-as-maze.

From five fans’ theories about The Shining , Ascher has combined an affectionate parody of obsession with a tribute to the ambiguities of Stanley Kubrick’﷽s hotel horror.

The range of thinkers presented proves the reach of Kubrick’s Stephen King makeover. Ascher could have fielded bored stoners or jargon-packing academics in a mash of Clerks’ Star Wars debates and a film-studies seminar.

Instead, 𝓀his contributors are foreign correspond✨ent Bill Blakemore, history professor Geoffrey Cocks, playwright Juli Kearns, ‘culture-jammer’ John Fell Ryan and ‘hermetic scholar’ Jay Weidner, lively minds brimming with notions.

Granted, some of the notions st꧃retch credulity: good luck spotting Kubrick’s face in the sky or – an old chestnut, this – penis🌳es in piles of paper.

The argument that Kubrick was mounting a con🌠fessional about his involvement in a moon landings conspiracy takes no less swallowing, though a൲t least it furnishes some teasing observations.

The combination of keen scrutiny and Kubrick’s reputation provides traction elsewhere. Visual evidence is gathered to cl🐲aim th🅰at Kubrick had bigger histories of violence in mind than Jack Torrance going loco; the Native American genocide and the Holocaust are touchstones for two believers.

You might think baking soda a flimsy basis for suc♑h ideas, but Kubrick’s fastidiousness and secrecy lend weight to fans’ convictions that the Overlook harbours hidden meanings.

Some ideas might rest on continuity gaffes (the vanishing dwarf, say) but the insights into impossible windows and creepy carpets prove too fascinating to dismiss. And too much fun, n𒆙ot least because Ascher makes up for his faintly overextended stay in hotel Kubrick with a visual flair that sucks yo🍃u in.

He interweaves clips from Kubrick’s and others’ films energetically, veering between ticklish snippets of Stephen King in and proof that The Shining plays well backwards.

Shots of someone opening a delivery of Kubrick Blu-rays sound more prosaic on paper, but time spent in Room 237 persu🍸ades us that they’re opening more than consumer gotta-haves: they’re opening treasure troves of intrigue to play in forever… and ever…