One of the most distinct and profound moments of my adolescence was the week or so in late April of 1992 when the billboard above the 7/11 on Reseda and Devonshire had the poster of Far and Away emblazoned on it. My eleven year old mind couldn’t seem to process how ridiculously gorgeous Nicole Kidman was. Remember, this was before the Internet, before TV started hiring hot girls to play leads, before teen movie hotties resurfaced in the late 90′s, before Maxim and FHM and everything else we have today that allows us to check out hot chicks. Movie star actresses were all we had.
And for me, Nicole Kidman was the business.
The wall of crazy curly hair. The perfect alabaster skin. The pursed lips and great mouth. The Aussie sauciness. The fact that she went full frontal in Billy Bathgate the year before. And was also naked in a Billy Zane thriller back in the late 80′s. Everything about her was great. And in the picture of her on the poster, she was perfection. I couldn’t look away. And didn’t want to, anyway.
The movie ended up sucking huge balls – ’bout the only good thing in the flick were the bare knuckle fight scenes and the line where The Cruiser begs Kidman to say she likes his hat and her response is “but you’re not wearing a hat” – but it didn’t matter. I was happy enough with the poster image, and the knowledge that I’d be seeing her looking fly on billboards above convenience stores for the foreseeable future. All was right in my Valley world.
And for a time, it was. She was hot in Days of Thunder (“Let me out of the car, Cole!”), and Malice (“You ask me if I have a God complex? I AM GOD!”), smokin’ bangin’ in To Die For, and even brought some of the saucyback in Batman Forever (with a Top Ten moronic character name of all-time, to boot: Dr. Chase Meridian). She continued to be somewhat babelicious through Eyes Wide Shut (hello again, boobs), Moulin Rouge, and definitely in that spooky hallway shot in the first act of Practical Magic where the light is just bouncing off of her like she’s rubber and it’s glue. But somewhere around The Others, and maybe it’s attributed to the divorce with Tom, she started looking… well, different. More plastic-y. Harder. Icy, if you will. And it only got worse.
I look at Nicole Kidman now and all I see is a botoxed ice queen. Harsh, stiff face with no emotion, hollow eyes, Helen Hunt-y sixhead (just a touch bigger than a fore), and anorexia that would make 2006 Lohan jealous. She turned from one of the hottest screen actresses I have ever seen, into this:
I almost don’t even recognize her anymore. Age is a cruel bitch, and apparently Nicole slept with Age’s boyfriend. I’m not sure her intention was to actually become an ice queen witch hag, but she’s definitely on her way.
I had given out all hope that I would ever find her hot again. I feared my memories of the Far and Away poster would be overtaken by the onslaught of images I see of her now that make my wang point into the negative degrees.
But then today I saw this picture on Comingsoon.net:
At first I just glanced over it and moved on to the next news item. But something from the image stuck with me. A few minutes later I looked at it again and I swear, for just a moment, I think it moved. Sparks were definitely flying, crotch-wise.
Could it be? Could Nicole Kidman actually look legitimately hot again? I wasn’t sure. So I decided to break the image down piece by piece and see what the numbers really tell me. This will either be the first time math has ever given me an erection, or another in a long series of instances where Arithmetic makes me its bitch.
The Face: I love her expression. Inquisitive, slightly tender, hints of wanting. Ages of history there. Her skin is a touch red, like she’s seen some hard times and came through OK. It’s like a Diane Lane face, right there. And the forehead problems are abated by the smooth hand of the Jackman. Her jaw line is still as razorsharp as ever, but the whole of the parts doesn’t equal ice queen, but an honestly beautiful, natural woman, for maybe the first time this millennium.
The Neck: Elongated and kind of awesome. I never realized she had such an Audrey Hepburn neck. It’s almost regal.
The Bust: Nicole has never had a giant rack, but it was always a solid one. Kind of like Julia or Sandra. It’s good and you don’t really take it for granted, but you’re never focused on it like you would be for Angie Jolie or Halle Berry. I’m not sure if she got a boob job or the shirt she’s wearing is just supes tight, but man alive, thems yaboos be looking tasty. I wonder if they’re built for speed or comfort. Might be time to pull the motorboat out of the docks.
The Bottom Half: Legs are lookin’ good and I believe I even see a hint of a spicy Aussie backside. I still get that she’s too thin, but the clothes are doing a good job of making it all look palatable.
The Outfit: The shirt is all sorts of thumbs up and delicious. Opened to crazy depths, hinting at what’s beneath it? Nice. Love the color of it, too. It’s not ostentatious or overly rich and designer-y. She looks like a normal person, and that transformation is doing her favors. High waisted pants always look good on tall, skinny girls, and Nicole is no exception. It’s making her stomach look taut and touchable, and perfectly assists in the correct boob placement.
The pose: Ass out, stomach in, chest high… always a great combo. Straight body lines and a little leg kick thrown in? I think better, ahem, lock the door.
The Rest: I dig how daintily she’s holding her hat, how she’s casually rubbing Jackman’s leg, and how she generally just looks pleasant in the moment. The light behind her really compliments the dusted color of her shirt, and doesn’t wash out her light skin. Everything is just put together really well. Like the most epic, expensive Stetson ad, ever.
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Add it all up and I get this equation: Pretty face + elegant neck + good hair + hot sugar chesticles + sweet ass + long luscious legs + great pose =
If she turns out to look horrid in the movie, and this was merely a perfect storm of hotness captured by a lucky set photographer, that’ll be OK. If she never looks better than an LA 7 ever again, that’ll be OK too. If she continues to botox hardcore for the next two decades and winds up looking like Joan Rivers’ less annoying niece, that’ll also be OK, because I’ll finally have a bookend to my magnificent Nicole Kidman movie images memory. I can put the two images together and nod my head appreciatively at the body of work she’s put together.
And by “body of work”, I mean the times when she starred in a tentpole event.
And by “tentpole”, I mean in my pants.
And by “in my pants”, I mean…
Bangarang!
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