‘Nine Perfect Strangers’ Changed My Mind About Nicole Kidman

People tell me that Nicole Kidman is a good actor. Hollywood agrees with that assessment. So far Kidman has one an Academy Award, a BAFTA, two Emmys, and five Golden Globes — the awards we use to gauge whether or not someone is good at acting. Despite this mountain of evidence, I’ve had a hard time seeing it. I could only see Nicole Kidman as “Nicole Kidman.” At least that was the case until Nine Perfect Strangers came along. By casting Kidman as the goddess-like figure I secretly believe her to be, I can finally understand how truly superb Kidman is as an actor.

I recognize that this is my weird problem, and mine alone. By the time I was old enough to care about actors, Kidman had already broken onto the scene with Far and Away, Batman Forever, and Eyes Wide Shut. She dominated the covers of most major magazines, and anything she did could be used as fodder for a news story. We didn’t have gods, but we had celebrities, and those were basically the same. Often in interviews Kidman comes off as grace embodied. She smiles openly at reporters who seem overly eager to be in her presence, and encourages her co-stars to talk even when she’s clearly the focus. And yet there’s an approachability there, something about her that makes you wish she was your best friend.

That’s what started my dissonance. I’d see Nicole Kidman on screen, but I’d never accept that she was anyone other than herself. Gretchen Carlson? No, that’s Kidman with shorter hair. Marisa Coulter? Wintertime Kidman. Celeste Wright? Kidman with more running. They were all nice to watch, but I couldn’t see anyone other than my nice actor friend, some form of a woman I would love to be.

This sort of borderline deranged idol worship for an everyday person? That’s exactly the sort of energy that makes Nine Perfect Strangers hum. Kidman’s Masha fits perfectly into my weird hangups with this star. Masha is supposed to be better than us. That’s the entire point of her character. Masha offers the hope that there’s another way of living, that if you drink the right smoothies, avoid sugar, and meditate daily, you may one day reach the elevated level of humanity where she currently resides. She has to be seen as perfect and aspirational or else the Venus flytrap that is Tranquillum House will fail. And Kidman plays her part beautifully.

Masha is exactly the sort of woman who would immediately terrify me, yet I would follow to the edge of the Earth. In every scene she seems to glide rather than walk. Her nods and rare smiles feel strangely all-knowing, as if she knew exactly what each of her guests was about to say, and she’s patiently waiting for them to get there. Merely entering a room causes her guests to reverently fall into silence. She’s the sort of character who warns me I may be susceptible to cults.

But as the series progresses, the cracks start to show. Masha isn’t all mellow reflections on death and calls to action for the living. Every new threat triggers a new flash of anger. She dives into water and sits at the bottom of pools, punishing herself and forcefully willing herself to ignore her own messy humanity. Abstaining from sugar is shown to be an active choice. As each episode shows, Masha isn’t just naturally better than the rest of us. She has to fight and claw and repress to be this ethereal. Seeing Kidman suffer through these extremes after starting on a pedestal is what opened my eyes. For the first time, I’m seeing Kidman not as a celebrity; but something more.

Watch Nine Perfect Strangers on Hulu