Kubrick's last film has been getting some unjustified negative press (slow, ill-matched mix of ponderous and comic, Cruise can't act, etc). There are some inconsistencies in editing, color quality, sound mix, but these don't take away much from one of the defining American films of the decade. Biggest complaint seems to be that the sex isn't very, well, sexy. But when was the last time Kubrick made a movie in which sex was fun (A Clockwork Orange? George C. Scott and his girlfriend at the beginning of Dr. Strangelove?)? And anyway, sex isn't what EWS (or any other Kubrick film) is about. Like Schnitzler's novel, it's really about the deeper insecurities of a young couple on their way up the social ladder. They had such people in turn-of-the-century Vienna, too, which is why this was such good material for an update to the nouveau riche '90s, especially for a cold fish like ol' Stanley.
Schnitzler wrote about bourgeois up-and-comers fascinated and repelled by the decadent world of the aristocracy - however real or imaginary that decadence turned out to be. Same thing here - our young couple don't know why the mysterious Victor keeps inviting them to his Christmas parties, but they're dazzled and drawn into his world, which makes theirs look suddenly boring. Tom and Nicole, with their unshakeable image as Hollywood's young naifs, are perfectly cast. And it doesn't matter that their performances aren't especially impressive: Cruise, who reacts to everything with the same clenched, defensive grin, IS Bill Harford, the doctor out of his depth in the weird world of the super-rich. Kubrick wickedly uses the truths and rumors about these two stars to add dimensions to the film, even throwing in a scene where a bunch of frat-kids gay-bash Bill.
Wife Alice's fascination confines itself to her dreams; husband goes out on the town. He doesn't have sex with the hooker who picks him up, because sex isn't really what he's after -- it's adventure, something to take him out of his narrow existence. What's all that money he's making for, anyway?
Sure, the much-derided orgy-in-a-mansion scene is ludicrous, but it's probably just the kind of fantasy a guy like Bill Harford would dream up if you asked him to think decadent. (What's dream and what's reality? consider that the one-night stand that's Alice's fantasy is pretty tame compared to what Bill "actually" sees - yet he didn't have sex, and in her dream, she does.) Think of it as wish-fulfillment: Bill gets exactly the kind of outre experience he was looking for, and in the end gets exactly the lesson he probably knew was coming all along: don't meddle with things you don't understand. The ending confirms one of the defining truths about the middle class of either 1900 or the 1990s: that when confronted with such advice, they will take it, circle the wagons, defend their immediate material world, and let the mysterious remain the mysterious. Yes, life is elsewhere; it'll just have to stay there. The title is perfect: Eyes wide open - but only for an instant. Then shut tight again, probably for good. Fine film, and a most timely note on which to end an extraordinary moviemaking career.
Schnitzler wrote about bourgeois up-and-comers fascinated and repelled by the decadent world of the aristocracy - however real or imaginary that decadence turned out to be. Same thing here - our young couple don't know why the mysterious Victor keeps inviting them to his Christmas parties, but they're dazzled and drawn into his world, which makes theirs look suddenly boring. Tom and Nicole, with their unshakeable image as Hollywood's young naifs, are perfectly cast. And it doesn't matter that their performances aren't especially impressive: Cruise, who reacts to everything with the same clenched, defensive grin, IS Bill Harford, the doctor out of his depth in the weird world of the super-rich. Kubrick wickedly uses the truths and rumors about these two stars to add dimensions to the film, even throwing in a scene where a bunch of frat-kids gay-bash Bill.
Wife Alice's fascination confines itself to her dreams; husband goes out on the town. He doesn't have sex with the hooker who picks him up, because sex isn't really what he's after -- it's adventure, something to take him out of his narrow existence. What's all that money he's making for, anyway?
Sure, the much-derided orgy-in-a-mansion scene is ludicrous, but it's probably just the kind of fantasy a guy like Bill Harford would dream up if you asked him to think decadent. (What's dream and what's reality? consider that the one-night stand that's Alice's fantasy is pretty tame compared to what Bill "actually" sees - yet he didn't have sex, and in her dream, she does.) Think of it as wish-fulfillment: Bill gets exactly the kind of outre experience he was looking for, and in the end gets exactly the lesson he probably knew was coming all along: don't meddle with things you don't understand. The ending confirms one of the defining truths about the middle class of either 1900 or the 1990s: that when confronted with such advice, they will take it, circle the wagons, defend their immediate material world, and let the mysterious remain the mysterious. Yes, life is elsewhere; it'll just have to stay there. The title is perfect: Eyes wide open - but only for an instant. Then shut tight again, probably for good. Fine film, and a most timely note on which to end an extraordinary moviemaking career.