A Little (Orgasmic) Relief
HNTFUYF goes to the movies
Happy Holidays to all you merry HNTFUYF-ers! (Also, to you un-merry ones.)
For those of you gifting yourself an escape to the movie theater, might I suggest the new Nicole Kidman romp Babygirl? (Don’t bring the kids.) I saw a screening a couple of weeks ago and wrote about it here. Warning, though: Spoilers ahead! (And one considered comment about that famous face.)
See you next Tuesday with regularly scheduled programming.
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Thanks for the review. Like other women my age, I was repulsed by the idea behind the movie but your spoilers have helped me see beyond the voyeurism. Men in the same position (almost) never pay the price for such actions- it’s great to know that she doesn’t either. We need more true portrayals of women in power and from what you’ve shared, this film sounds true. Though I’m not sure I want to watch a 3 minute orgasm, I agree that it’s good to see this portrayed in a woman my age. Damn tired of seeing old men do what they want.
And goodness, what courage to be filmed like that! THAT is power!
The discourse surrounding Nicole Kidman has reached an absurd pinnacle of superficiality.
And, it just so happens I was thinking about Nicole Kidman's face the other day (ahem), the way you might think about a painting you've seen too many times in a museum. You know the type – the ones where everyone crowds around, squinting and tilting their heads, convinced they've spotted something no one else has noticed. It's funny how we've all become amateur dermatologists, really. I imagine these critics at home, perhaps wearing their reading glasses and peering at high-definition screenshots, like they're studying ancient manuscripts for hidden messages in her forehead.
Meanwhile, there she is in "Lioness" the television series, moving through the shadowy world of CIA operations like someone who actually knows the weight of national secrets. She plays Kaitlyn Meade – and I can't help but wonder if somewhere there's a real Kaitlyn Meade watching this show in a secure location, maybe with a cup of coffee gone cold on her desk, thinking how strange it is to see her profession turned into evening entertainment. The way Kidman does it, though, every micro-expression feels like a carefully guarded file folder, each tight-lipped smile a redacted document. It's rather like watching someone play chess while everyone else is counting how many times they blink.
I particularly enjoy the scenes where she has to maintain that perfect CIA composure – you know, the kind that makes you wonder if spies have special training in how to sip coffee without leaving lipstick marks on the cup. She moves through the halls of power like someone who knows where all the surveillance cameras are, while viewers at home pause their screens to debate whether her forehead moved during that last dramatic moment. It's rather like watching a master magician and spending the whole time trying to figure out what kind of sleeve they're wearing, when the real trick is happening right before our eyes: the way she transforms into this complex woman who holds the fate of operatives in her perfectly manicured hands. I wonder if somewhere, in some parallel universe, there's a Nicole Kidman watching a show about all of us, puzzling over our strange obsession with her face, while her cat sleeps peacefully in her lap, completely unimpressed by the whole thing – though I imagine even the cat would have to admit she's rather good at playing a spy.