Eyes Wide Shut

With the exception of a late-occurring scene of deadening over-explanation wholly unnecessary to the film on every level (and rather unusual for Kubrick), Eyes Wide Shut is utterly sensational, and represents another gleaming jewel in the master filmmaker's already studded crown. Cruise and Kidman surpass all of their previous work, turning in spectacular performances infused with nuances only hinted at prior to this outing. Their real-life union appears to bring every bit of unique tension Kubrick intended, as the movie wholly depends on the verisimilitude of the central couple's relationship. Kubrick's tone fulfills all the promise of the title, consistently delivering an elevated texture of almost uncanny imagination perpetually hovering between fantasy and reality. The director additionally mines many of his familiar thematic concerns, including deceit, paranoia, and blinding frustration. Eyes Wide Shut is certain to be as closely scrutinized as many of Kubrick's other films (particularly because it is his final work), and its thoughtful and challenging treatment of such lightning-rod topics as marital honesty, sexual jealousy, and the perceived risks of disclosing one's fantasies (even to the single person you trust more than any other) is sure to draw some people in while pushing others away.

Initially was at a loss for words with this one. I can't necessarily explain the feelings this film brings out, but I can say they feel real personal and there's just something so off yet so painfully real about (most of) this movie and it is just really undervalued in Kubrick's filmography, I think. Besides being one of my favorite looking movies ever, the midpoint turn is one of the scariest heading down rabbit hole reveals I've really encountered in a film and it just disturbed me for the entire time (you know the point) and after as it continued provocatively building to the disturbing and bizarrely cathartic ending, which haunts me as the final scene in a Kubrick film. It's perfect in it's imperfectness and I get an insane level of both joy and sadness watching this movie.

I remember when Kubrick passed away. I read it in the morning newspaper, and was struck with deep sadness I couldn't explain. Mind you, I was not even 12 years old at the time and had barely seen any of his films.

So I went to see "Eyes Wide Shut" (1999) at the cinema. I credit it, along with Terrence Malick's "The Thin Red Line" (1998), as an experience that ignited my interest in film, since they were both films like I had never seen before. Sure, there's that one reason why a young lad might be interested in this, but I was so struck by its atmosphere and narrative flow that I had to read Schnitzler's "Traumnovelle". And how disappointed I was in how unalike they were. The film was in a world of its own that had a sense of time that was its own, a sense of colour that was its own, a sense of light that was its own. Every movement was languid, every word deliberate.

I never really thought about the connection between this and Malick's film until now, but really, they both move in the realm of dreams and memories and projected, subjective realities – between something that did happen (to someone) and something that might have happened. There's ellipsis, ambiguity, metaphor. Both work their magic in visual terms. I'm soaked in that light from the ball even by recalling the images in my mind as I'm writing this.

Fidelio – enter.

The thing a lot of folks haven't liked about Stanley Kubrick's films is the fact that he always seemed to think the audience needed some points driven home a little harder than others. Very little is left for debate; most everything is spelled out, pressed hard, and dwelled upon. His critics have compared the long waits between his films to the long periods of waiting that occur while watching his films.

Personally, I like the long, slow scenes in his films. When they're filled with something: music, movement, thought, memory of a previous scene, dread, or any other emotion, they can never really be said to be empty. I like them because, with Kubrick, I can be sure that they're absolutely essential to his ultimate vision. He could have put out a six-hour documentary on tissue manufacturing; at least I'll know that not one minute of screen time is wasted.

"Eyes Wide Shut" isn't as vacuous as, say, "Barry Lyndon" or "The Shining." Compared to those two, this one scoots along like a person trying to get to his car in the rain. It'll try a lot of folks' patience, I'm sure -- even his most loyal fans will be bothered by the incessant piano "bell tolls" in the soundtrack of some scenes, or the constant reminders (in imaginary flashbacks) that Cruise's character is bothered by his wife's near-infidelity. I know I was.

Despite that, it's an apt final film for the long, glorious career of a man who has done more for the cinema, with less movies, than can ever be catalogued. To try and cite influences for this particular work is futile. Though one might draw parallels to Lindsay Anderson's "O Lucky Man!" or Martin Scorsese's "After Hours," "Eyes Wide Shut" is no less than a complete work from the cold heart and brilliant mind of Stanley Kubrick alone. It's also a furiously ingenious piece of filmmaking, one that works less on the emotions than on the senses and on the mind. Unlike most of Kubrick's earlier work, however, it does have an emotional subtext, which is used to devastating effect.

Cruise, by the way, does an outstanding job, not as a trained, camera-conscious film actor, but as a mature, seasoned performer. Here he uses his "Top Gun"/"Jerry Maguire" suavity to malicious effect; like Ryan O'Neal's Barry Lyndon before him, he's an egotistical cad. Unlike Lyndon, he gains our sympathy -- that's key to keeping us from disowning his character and thus negating the entire film.

Kidman is given less screen time, but it matters little. She's mostly seen in the beginning, and she has brief (but crucial) scenes throughout, and a masterful one at the end. It is safe to say that this is her best performance to date, and those of us who have been ignoring her treasured abilities up until now (the Academy, critics, myself) will be astounded to see how far she's come since "Dead Calm." Her high points: the argument with her husband that ends by setting the film's plot in motion perfectly captures the way women lure men into arguments when the cause for one is nonexistent (and on Cruise's part, how men can't think fast enough to do anything about it), and her dream confession scene, in which she wakes laughing but becomes tearful during recollection.

On a technical level, "Eyes Wide Shut" displays Kubrick's trademark perfectionism. Recreating Vietnam in rural England for "Full Metal Jacket" must have been nearly impossible, but the unrelenting accuracy in recreating uptown and downtown New York City is absolutely stunning. Right down to the diners and the newspaper stands; I shake my head in awe when I remind myself that Kubrick (a native Brooklynite) hasn't been to NYC in decades. The lighting and photography is impeccable, also, as it is in every one of his films.

This is the sort of film one sees more than once. Once is good to cleanse the palate, to clear out all the residual toxins left from other recent films. See it again, perhaps a third time, and get to appreciate the graceful, nearly unblemished finale of a man who took the art of cinema seriously. It's a sobering experience.

Are there secrets that you keep outside your marriage, locked away inside an unseen secret carriage, of the way you might behave, if you were confident and brave, although your partner would most likely not, encourage. As a doctor is presented with an image, of his wife's fidelity that starts him to twitch, leads to several rendezvous, that seek to demonstrate, imbue, of how that scratch that can't be reached, just might be itched. Interpretation of the outcomes might reveal, how you engage with your love, just how you feel, do you know just who they are, do they know how high's your bar, or would the truth, if it came out, make you both squeal.