Stanley Kubrick’s
filmography is probably one of the most popular for cinematic criticism—can you
imagine how many college film courses focus on 2001: A Space Odyssey or A
Clockwork Orange? I know mine did. And so it goes without saying that his final
film, 1999’s Eyes Wide Shut, has its fair share of analyses throughout academic
journals and online blogs—including a shocking
amount of pieces written about how the film is Illuminati propaganda.
Seriously, Google “Eyes Wide Shut” and “Illuminati” and you will not be
disappointed. You’re welcome and Merry Christmas!
And Christmas is
why we’re here, actually, because Eyes Wide Shut is probably one of the most
adult films to take place during the holiday season. And I don’t use the term “adult”
just because of all the sex scenes, which, you know, there are a lot! But more
so because of how Kubrick uses Christmas ambiance to add texture and atmosphere
to the film, and to drive home certain ideas about consumerism and power that
are central to his work.
I’m not going to
write you an essay here, but I think Eyes Wide Shut is an interesting movie to
watch around this time of year because Kubrick had such clear intentions in
including the holiday—so let’s look at the five times the Christmas spirit was
at play in the film … for better or for worse.
+ Oh hey, it’s Christmas! Eyes Wide Shut starts with a shock by showing us Nicole Kidman’s bare butt
(do not hate on Nicole; I love Nicole; I just wish she would stop doing things
to her face), but it transitions quickly into place and time: It’s New York
City and it’s Christmas! How does Kubrick do this? By demonstrating to us that
his protagonists, Bill (Tom Cruise) and wife Alice (Kidman) aren’t particularly
good parents, leaving their daughter Helena with the babysitter whose name they
don’t know so they can attend a fancy party thrown by one of Bill’s patients.
The holidays, a time for family togetherness? Not for the Harfords, and
especially not with a daughter who symbolizes essentially nothing but the one
thing keeping Bill and Alice together. Knock against the self-interested nature
of the wealthy: Check.
+ Sleezy rich jerks have Christmas trees, too. Practically immediately after the Harfords
arrive at the holiday party held by Bill’s patient, Sandor, the two split
apart. Alice gets hit on a lascivious guy who dances with her, while Bill
disappears with a couple of hot young models and then is called to tend to
Sandor, who was having sex with another girl who passed out from a drug
overdose. What’s in the room where Sandor and the girl were having sex? Opulent
furniture, beautiful artwork, and a cheap-looking little Christmas tree, with
neon lights that lend an eerie, otherworldly light to everything going on in
that room. Creepy red light usually belongs in horror movies, and seeing it
here really underlines the unsettling vibe Kubrick is bringing to Eyes Wide
Shut.
+ Prostitutes who end up having HIV—yup, they also
care about the holiday season. How often can Bill cheat on his wife? It feels like the opportunity
presents itself over and over again for the handsome doctor, most obviously
when he goes home with a young prostitute named Domino. The first thing we see in
her apartment? A sparse Christmas tree, again surrounded by eerie red light, in
a place where Bill shouldn’t be—but it’s not the reminder of the holiday season
that makes Bill think of his family and leave Domino, but a nagging phone call
from Alice. If Christmas is a great unifier (which Kubrick seems to be arguing
by constantly inserting Christmas decorations and accessories into the film,
but not having the characters overtly talk about it), what does it signify for
those celebrating it? Is it an outward display of holiness, or a false attempt
at hiding something darker and dirtier?
+ And speaking of “darker and dirtier”—the one
place Christmas decorations don’t appear
is at the mansion where the Master of Ceremonies lords over the costumed,
occult orgy. No holiday
frills. No Christmas trees. No lights. The people at the orgy don’t have to
hide under the guise of Christmas, because they’re all in on each other’s
debauchery and depravity—they’re barely even hiding from each other. The
mask-wearing isn’t for inclusion, but for exclusion; think of how rapidly they
sense that Bill isn’t supposed to be there. It’s the one place in the film
untouched by Christmas, because no one there has to pretend to be anything they’re
not. They’re all fine with being terrible, as long as they can be terrible
together—without anyone else sneaking into their midst.
+ Finally, don’t forget the point of Christmas:
Presents. Do you remember
Helena? Bill and Alice barely do, and they only bring their daughter into their
realm again at the end of the film: when Bill has dodged receiving HIV from
Domino; when his connections with the secret society have been severed by
violence outside of his control; and when he finally comes clean to Alice about
his actions of the past few days, following up on her honesty about having sex
dreams that don’t include Bill but focus on shaming him by being intimate with
other men. Their marriage is totally fucked up, so why not spend some time with their daughter?
And the time is,
of course, not emotionally meaningful, but consumerist: They take their
daughter shopping as a way of bonding with her, acquiescing to her every wish
instead of getting to know her. In a film that is constantly demonstrating the
way the supposed generosity, compassion, and togetherness of the holiday season
is distorted, deceived, and corrupted, it only makes sense that Bill and Alice
would envelop their daughter with things as
a way to teach her the Christmas spirit. Christmas may be a time of
regeneration, renewal, and rebirth, but in Eyes Wide Shut, everyone is stuck in
the same old shitty cycles. And no amount of holly jolly cheer—or Tom Cruise’s
enthusiastic clapping—can cover up the rot.
