We stare in disbelief at the opening shot because it's the opening shot, our eyes wide shut, indeed: Nicole Kidman as Alice undrapes herself to reveal a bare posterior, one of the finest on record. She and her husband, Dr. William Harford ("Dr. Bill"), are dolling up for a Christmas shindig at the New York manor of Bill's wealthy patient, Victor Ziegler (Sydney Pollack).

At the party, Alice and Bill separate and make small, flirtatious talk with guests--she fake swoons to the beat of a Hungarian smoothie's shop-worn moves (they meet when he purposely mistakes her champagne glass for his own), while he locks arms with two models who want to show him "where the rainbow ends."

A crisis occurs: Ziegler's hooker has OD'd. Dr. Bill revives her, and rejoins Alice. The couple makes love later that night, and when we see Alice in close up, as Bill kisses her up and down, there's something missing in her expression. Though we've only known her a short time, it looks like disappointment.

She is jealous--of those models, of the attractive women he meets in his daily business. Worse, he is rock-steady in his belief that she would never commit adultery, which fills her with resentment: the most jealous of us want the feeling to be mutual. So the following evening Alice, stoned on pot, recounts the Faustian fantasy she once had of throwing herself at a sailor. Before Bill can respond or retaliate, he's called away on business, mental pictures of his wife screwing another man fresh on his cortex and inciting him into various temptations.

An excursion into Manhattan's nightlife culminates at a gothic estate, where Bill finds himself observing a cabalistic orgy. He's not supposed to be there and is soon unmasked before a council of costumed judges. Cryptic threats are made on Bill's life. The good doctor spends the next two days or so in delirium, afraid for his safety and in the market for an extramarital fling.

The first time around, Eyes Wide Shut suggests Scenes From A Marriage extrapolated from the imaginings of Sigmund Freud, its obvious thematic density abstracted by characters who appear to behave according to arcane psychiatric principles. Yet I liked it then (for mostly aesthetic reasons) and even more now: one aspect of the film floated to the surface during a second viewing that enriches its experience, and that is the frequent recitation of, "To be perfectly honest with you."

Bill, Alice, Ziegler and others exist on a plane that requires them to preface the truth by announcing it as such. Eyes Wide Shut is partly about the weapon of honesty and the comfort--the necessity--of lies. (In one instance, "to be perfectly honest with you" precedes a fib, but because the sayer in question understands the awesome power of the phrase.) Too simplistic to sum the movie whole, this analysis at least provides a window into its soul.

Kubrick's is a dreamscape New York, a neon-baked ghost town (the director hadn't returned from Britain to his native Queens in over thirty years), which serves to centre our attention on Bill--his mind cluttered, he notices, and we notice, only what is of blazing interest to him: a prostitute, a newspaper stand, a menacing stalker, a jazz club. The truth has set him free, as the proverb goes, but into a dark and lonely world. It's important to note a key difference in what Alice did to Bill and what he intends to do in exchange: for confessing her dirty little secret, the husband is ready to flat-out deceive his wife, and there's a world of difference between deception and dishonesty.

After reading "Traumnovelle", the 1927 Arthur Schnitzler novel upon which Eyes Wide Shut is based, Chicago Reader critic Jonathan Rosenbaum wrote, "Kubrick made this movie convinced that relationships between couples haven't significantly changed over the past 70-odd years, and whether you find it a success probably depends a lot on whether you agree with him." I have trouble believing that the basic make-up of a couple has changed in many more years than that. Three major wars, the death of patriarchy, and the birth of feminism have failed to bridge the gap that stands between even the most in-love man and woman. The only thing the genders have in common, Kubrick intimates, is insecurity, and he has many chuckles at the expense of both in that regard.

Eyes Wide Shut was the first Kubrick film since Barry Lyndon to not catch the zeitgeist of its era, and there might be all sorts of reasons for that, many pertaining to Tom Cruise and his fan-base. It's also unfashionably moralistic, as Bill finally seeks redemption in the non-Catholic sense from his spouse; the only faith he has is in marriage. Then there was its ill-slotted mid-summer release: when moviehouses function as glorified air conditioners, the masses would rather not subject themselves to a Bergman-esque meditation on commitment.

C'est la vie. The film contains what may be the greatest closing line of dialogue in movie history. Taken as Kubrick's vicarious last word, it's even better than that, the perfect deathbed utterance. Eyes Wide Shut's box office failure notwithstanding (what a silly measure of success), it is a fitting coda to a career that engaged and puzzled always and simultaneously.

Warner's Eyes Wide Shut DVD at the very least bests any of the discs from the poorly executed "Kubrick Collection" in terms of image and sound quality. I've decided to leave out of this section my opinion of those digital figures that have been added to obscure 65 seconds' worth of really naughty bits, lest I risk turning a positive review into a rather negative one. Presented full frame, "as Stanley Kubrick intended," the sumptuousness of Larry Smith's warm, ethereal lighting design is beautifully reproduced, and the transfer has extraordinary shadow detail. There is more contrast than I remember seeing in the cinema, and less grain, though I wouldn't have minded the consistently "pushed" look that Eyes Wide Shut had on the silver screen, which recalled vintage Kubrick. A fine visual presentation, overall.

The Dolby Digital 5.1 sound mix has its moments, especially during passages of the wonderfully named Jocelyn Pook's conservative score. During the orgy sequence is the only time your speakers will belt out any low end; the majority of the time, only the centre speaker is in use--voices are sufficiently loud. Extras include two TV spots, cast/crew bios, the provocative theatrical trailer, and interviews with Tom Cruise, Steven Spielberg (who was not directly involved with Eyes Wide Shut but wanted to pay tribute to Kubrick, an old acquaintance), and Nicole Kidman. Lengthy and enjoyable, these reminiscences will appeal to casuals and die-hards alike.-Bill Chambers