Kubrick's final film uneven and, apparently, unfinished

Rating: 3/10 (11 March 2000)

Many critics praised this film as the crowning achievement in Stanley Kubrick's long and illustrious career. Many critics are also full of deer feces. Seriously, I can't imagine people actually thinking this is an incredible movie - unless they're in awe of Kubrick, who brought to the world many magnificent films, including "2001: A Space Odyssey," "Barry Lyndon," "A Clockwork Orange," and "Paths of Glory." Kubrick is indeed an auteur, but here he missed the boat. The late director, who also served as screenwriter, gives us a 2.5-hour piece of slop, as we follow Dr. Bill Harford (Tom Cruise) through a series of curious, if not altogether interesting, experiences. First he and Mrs. Dr. Bill (Nicole Kidman) go to a lavish party where each is kinda tempted to cheat on the other, but doesn't. Then they discuss it later and typical marital understanding ensues. Yes, you can almost recite the lines before they happen in that scene, folks. Angry, Bill leaves his wife, runs into a cheap (and, apparently, kind-hearted, JUST the kind of prostitute that's on the streets today, one can easily imagine) hooker, goes to a jazz club, and finally goes to a masquerade-cum-orgy ball.
The first problem hits you right away. For a couple who are married in real life, Kidman and Cruise have zero chemistry in this film. They don't play off each other well at all, and even the mild sex scenes are real yawners. Beyond that is the script itself. One gets the impression that Kubrick had a much more developed movie in mind, but when he died the studio just released whatever was lying around. The script could have been so intriguing! The main problem with it is that is simply doesn't follow through on any premises. When a small storyline is introduced, it's just left after that brief introduction. And folks, when we're talking about a 159-minute movie, that's not easy to do. Which brings me to the last big problem of the movie. Every actor talks..... really...... slowly. Don't ask me why. And since Kubrick declined to use much in the way of background music (except for one annoyingly repetitive riff, meant to portend great ominence or something), the pauses between syllables are even more prolonged.
So what we're left with is overblown, overstated, pretentious piffle. It's almost as if the auteur took bits of every art-house smash he'd ever scene and thrown them into a Cuisinart. Problem is the product is a gooey concoction of superficial gunk.