White roses border the Williams/Kidman’s doorbell. In the picturesque 1950s suburban neighborhood, Robbie Williams pulls into the driveway, his arm around girlfriend, Nicole Kidman. She squeals with excitement once he stops the car.
Kidman, in a copper sequined dress, sings against a shimmering silver curtain. To the right, he grins in his brown suit and tie.
Carrying their luggage, he puts his hand on her back until they separate. At the bar, they gaze into one another’s eyes. She flirts with the woman next to her, to his embarrassment.
On Christmas morning, she hands him his gift. It’s a pair of checkered pajamas. She claps as he displays it across his chest. He kisses her as she grabs an umbrella from him with her teeth. She taps him on the back of the head with a golf club. He pretends to shout from the pain. He nuzzles her chin as she opens another gift and taps a button on the remote for snow. They watch in amazement as it falls from ceiling.
Wearing his new pajamas, he waits for her by the bed. She looks through her lingerie. The room darkens and they have sex. Afterwards, they cuddle.
In the 1950s, Robbie Williams worked at his office job. He presented his ideas and stayed in his cubicle while his colleagues slung back drink after drink. He exchanged playful banter with his secretary. From time to time, they propositioned him. However, he would respond with his standard answer of “Sorry, doll but I’m taken.” His job was to provide for his wife and save for their yearly tropical vacation.
His wife, Nicole Kidman, stayed home and waited for him. She watched her soaps and slipped in a few sips of her whiskey from her secret flask. Afterwards, she read her beauty magazines and moved her feet for the housekeeper. At about 3 p.m., she would start dinner, sipping her whiskey while stirring the sauce and sing.
During the holidays, she reveled in decorating the house. She shopped for most of the day, searching for the most sparkly Christmas sweater and ornaments at the department stores. Sometimes while talking with the server at the department store’s cafe, she hiccupped and then giggled. Waving goodbye, she’d tell him she would see them tomorrow. There are so many sales! However, her husband won’t be made if she bought a fur coat. He’d say she deserved it.
He doesn’t know what to expect from his wife. She lives up to the stereotype, which she is supposed to do, but she rebels from it in small moments. She’ll flirt with another woman, suggesting an unspeakable act, while with him. She’ll take an application from the department store and set it on the table. Whenever his parents inquire as to when little Nicoles and Robbies will start running around, she swirls her wine glass and responds “But what about my shows?” On the phone several days later, he tries to explain to his mother that Nicole is okay and happy, just exhausted from the holiday stress.
Director: Vaughan Arnell Year: 2001
Pam Avoledo’s love of pop culture began in 1999 with the message boards dedicated to shows on the CW (then WB). She graduated from Oakland University in 2006 with a Bachelor’s degree in Journalism.
When she is not debating whether Dawson should’ve ended up with Joey, she looks at cute dog memes on social media.