Eyes Wide Shut

Eyes Wide Shut

D: Stanley Kubrick (1999); with Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman, Sydney Pollack It's sad when a legend's final film winds up as one of his least engaging works. That was the case when Kubrick's much ballyhooed erotic drama failed to score at the box office and with a number of critics. In the film, we meet Manhattan super couple Dr. Bill Harford and his wife Alice (Cruise and Kidman). Both are great-looking socialites with a cute daughter and a firm hold on their future. They're invited to a ritzy Christmas party hosted by bon vivant Victor (Pollack, in a seedy role), and the two find themselves flirting excessively with other partygoers. The next night they get high, and Alice admits to her husband that she's had intense sexual fantasies about other men. Bill is shocked by the revelation. Not only that, but she delivers this confession with an overwhelming tone of condescension toward her ego-wounded hubby. A phone call interrupts the awkward dialogue to inform Dr. Bill that one of his patients has passed away. He enters the cold winter night to visit the deceased's family, but ends up in a series of misadventures throughout the city. All of these provide much sexual temptation for the good doctor, who is still reeling from his wife's declaration. The most intense of these episodes leads him to a high-brow, secret cadre of masked sex freaks. Here, the film grinds to an abrupt halt. Any tension created by the deterioration of Bill and Alice's intimate lives is silenced by a cross-plot involving the society of costumed perverts and a corny ritual scene that could fit in any Emmanuelle film. Stylistically, Kubrick scores a few points by adding Jocelyn Pook's redundant yet piercing piano score (heightening the uncomfortable premise), great sets, and abundant symbolism. Likewise, Cruise is solid despite having to utter some ridiculous lines and repeat nearly everything that's said to him. Kidman, however, seems most comfortable when undressing for the camera. Several nude shots (all of which seem unnecessary) highlight her confidence and poise. But in many scenes, she seems far removed from Alice Harford. When her character gets tipsy on champagne and teases an older gentleman at the Christmas party, her sluggish words and girly giggles are insincere. Even worse is the pot-smoking scene in which it's apparent she cannot grasp the concept of being stoned. The big drawback to the whole affair is the fact that this mess runs about three hours. That alone leaves the dearly departed Kubrick open to more criticism because there's that much more of the film to loathe. A sad effort considering the death of its director, the film may appease some die-hard fans. For Kubrick neophytes or casual renters, however, its meandering pretensions will seem long-winded and underwhelming.