"Shivery Delicious" (w/ Nicole Kidman)

Ten years in, we wanted a pop‑culture icon for our anniversary, and today we got the one we’ve daydreamed about booking since the Blockbuster days.

We rewatched your work—The Others featurette, Eyes Wide Shut, Big Little Lies—and I kept thinking, you almost turned down roles that scare people, so how do you decide to jump?

I chase risk and curiosity, then trust great directors; with Baz I was already in that creative family, so it felt safe to leap.

Moulin Rouge hit us as kids like a thunderclap—racy, dizzying, feathers in the sky—pure culture‑awakening energy.

It was heaven: pink plumes, a trapeze, Ewan singing as I die; Baz and Catherine build worlds where music and romance feel operatic and alive.

People say you’re tuned into the zeitgeist like Baz; what’s the compass for you?

I binge, I try things, and I grew up bohemian and bookish—opera, theater, art at home, and parents who let big feelings in, even through illness and loss.

Your work often feels operatic and literary—did those roots shape your choices?

Opera taught me pathos; my mother translated the stories as we cried, then I devoured Dostoevsky and Tolstoy, and the Brontës taught me the power of yearning, which I still feel.

Do you have a line you hold close?

The Hours gave me that speech about choosing one’s destiny; we worked it obsessively because agency matters to me.

Would you ever direct, or do you prefer being guided?

I love being in the hands of a strong writer‑director; I ask questions, contribute, and let their vision steer.

Batman Forever’s Dr. Chase on that VHS cover was a queer awakening for a lot of us—camp classics, those movies.

Joel and I built Chase—hair and all—and even though I never felt like the dream blonde, acting lets you slip into her, same with that Chanel No. 5 fantasia Karl adored.

You once nearly passed on The Others; how did you reconcile that character?

I reframed it as a mother trying to save her kids; if I do not feel a character in my body, I cannot play her, so I work until the sensation is true.

Is that what drew you to raw parts like Destroyer or The Paperboy?

Yes—Charlotte Bless is pure body and swamp heat; I live quietly so I can go feral in imagination.

Antarctica—same ship, different weeks—how was it for you?

Silence like nowhere else, a kayak meditation where I thought, this might be my happiest; also, penguins are divine and the environmental protocols are intense, as they should be.

You travel with a full tribe and light up hosting; you’re a small‑dinner‑party and rave person, both.

I love sharing wonder, so I bring family and friends; I work hard so I can play hard, cruises included.

Babygirl surprised people—new audiences, new memes.

It reached younger folks and gay men in ways we did not predict; I loved dancing in that basement, even if I left with both the flu and COVID.

What was the culture spark for you?

Fashion—Audrey, Grace, the houses—and my grandmother’s couture hands; later Galliano and Lagerfeld fit me like a mannequin during Eyes Wide Shut, and suddenly tall and skinny had a purpose.

Met Gala host committee—what’s the vibe this year?

I am thrilled to be there with Beyoncé, and grateful for Anna, who champions art, fashion, and women; my daughter just walked Dior, which is her world, not mine.

Being the Ricardos felt exacting—what did you learn from Lucy?

Comedy is detail and grind, week after week; we over‑prepared movement and voice, and a live audience tells you instantly what layers to keep.

Would you return to sketch chaos?

Happily—I am fine falling on my face if the play is honest, it is just a big commitment with kids and life in Nashville.

Rapid‑fire: you clock smells instantly, Reese and Laura do killer impressions, Just Go With It in Hawaii was joy, and your calendar’s open after summer for scripts and cruises.

I watch global art films with my daughters, wanted them to see all seven continents, I am teachable and caffeinated today, and yes—To Die For was a say‑yes‑then‑train moment thanks to Buck Henry and Gus Van Sant.

You have given so much to every era of our moviegoing lives—from Dogville to Birth to Big Little Lies—and you still chase fresh edges.

I admire Margot and Emma’s bravery, and I just shot a small role for Osgood Perkins’ new horror because supporting bold voices is the fun part.

She’s phenomenal and about to explode; she can truly do everything.

Megan’s thriller Drop hooked me: a newly single mom goes on a first date, then gets AirDropped messages that her kid’s been taken, and she carries the whole movie with calm, gripping power.

Alright, one-minute culture rant: Antarctica is not for me; the seasick patch blurred my vision, the Drake Passage tossed us like dice, icebergs cracked while we filmed, flights were iffy, and after all that… maybe I’ll just do another continent.

That patch is transdermal and steadies your optic nerve, which is why you couldn’t see—yikes.

I can white-knuckle pain and even skip anesthesia by going into a kind of trance, but I’m not competitive; in sports I’ll happily tap out and just rally for fun.

You say that, but you’ll also walk around on a broken bone, so I don’t buy that you quit easily.

My minute: outdoor furniture is a long con; cushions fly off in a light breeze, umbrellas stain, ratty patina is sold as chic, and I’m doing patio parkour to rescue soggy pillows.

It never looks like the showroom for long; weather turns wood gray, cushions pile up inside, and storage bins and tarps just clutter the place.

Everything outside gets filthy, especially in Los Angeles; honestly, sometimes just drag indoor chairs out when you need them and skip the tarp nightmare.

Travel re-set my eyes; after Tokyo, New York felt shockingly dirty by comparison, and I wish that care showed up everywhere.

That contrast is why trips matter—they wake you up.

Now it’s Nicole’s minute.

Dealbreaker: bad breath; you can be gorgeous, but if I flinch when you exhale, I’m out, which is why I told Alexander to skip the falafel before our kiss scenes on Big Little Lies.

Smell is my top sense; I briefly lost it during a COVID and flu combo and felt oddly freed, but when it came back I got obsessed again, and Rihanna’s scent is so intoxicating I’d trail her just to keep smelling it.

A shivery, delicious hang; thank you for being here, and yes, binge it now.

Also, watch Jamie and me actually come to blows in the new one, and I produced it; bring me back so we can dish The Beguiled properly.

We adore you; what a blast—Las Culturistas says goodnight.