There is something profoundly sad in Eyes Wide Shut... Is it because it's the last film of Stanley Kubrick, this gifted talent who brought together the words "genius" and "films"? Or is it because of the feeling of melancholic futility that inhabits the lives of this couple, who have everything they need to be happy, yet seem trapped in a formula where sex is an episodic necessity, made up of fleeting pleasure, while the rest is an ersatz normality built…