He was the man who literally jumped the shark. Among the feats of the one and only Evel Knievel was riding his motorcycle over a tank of sharks. It was his last grandstanding stunt, which broke both his arms and gave him a concussion. The Australian Age obit may be the best-- naturally, they appreciated a man of Knievel's peculiar talents Down Under. This one from the OC Register in Orange County gives a more chronological account of Knievel's crashes, as well as as a tribute from a US Congressman. Somewhere I read that Knievel said that he'd broken every bone in his body except for the stirrups in his ears. This was a lie, it was only either 35 or 40 bones. It is of course a downbeat ending to be carried off by a treacherous liver (that terrible Hep C) and something called "idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis." ("Idiopathic" is your doctor's word for "damned if we know what caused it or how to treat it".)

Knievel's memory is burnished by today's generation of 1970s worshippers. He lives on in cultural spaces as varied as Kayne West videos (Knievel was not to be sampled for free) and the ineffable Hot Rod. Steve Mandich's stunningly well-researched webpage shows the remarkable amount of bands and songs named after the daredevil. Mandich also provides the tidbit that Kurt Cobain said that Knievel was his only hero. (College radio disc jockeys, looking at this huge roster of songs and bands, may be overwhelmed with riches: one recommends the real prize in this list, the 1974 Amherst album Evel Knievel. Ebay has a sealed and autographed copy for a mere $100. but there's bound to be other copies floating about for cheap. "Why?" by Knievel is a spoken-word song over guitar and harmonica, in which he tries to explain his penchant for jumping his Harley over everything from a pit of rattlesnakes to the Snake River Canyon. Having no c-note to blow on the record, I spent 99 cents the day after Knievel died to pick up a DVD of Evel Knievel (1971) at the Grocery Outlet. Surprise: it's pretty good!

The Shining (1980) marks an interesting spot in Stanley Kubrick's filmography, one that hardly anyone ever mentions. Most Kubrick films are not appreciated in their own time, but while Barry Lyndon (1975) and Full Metal Jacket (1987) are beginning to enjoy a newfound critical reputation, The Shining -- stuck right between them -- is generally left out of the discussion. Despite mixed reviews (recommendations from Andrew Sarris and the New York Times, but pans from Pauline Kael, Stanley Kaufmann, Dave Kehr and Variety), it was a hit film, grossing $44 million on a $19 million budget (according to boxofficemojo.com). It was based on a young, successful horror writer's third novel, and thus it hardly warranted serious consideration. Only David Thomson, in his "Biographical Dictionary of Film," gives the film a once-over; in an otherwise negative essay about Kubrick, he calls The Shining Kubrick's "one great film," but he also calls it "very funny."

At the same time, horror fanatics find the film extraordinary; and by all counts, they're right. Here was a horror entry from a first-class filmmaker who had succeeded in escaping the "horror" classification. Our other masters -- Bava, Romero, Carpenter, Hooper, Craven, etc. -- started in horror and got stuck there, unable to express their artistry in any other medium, and unable to earn the acclaim of someone like Kubrick. He visited, left unscathed and left behind something truly exceptional. But where do these two sides meet? What did Kubrick bring to horror and what did horror bring to Kubrick?