I know what you know: She’s 700 feet tall and made of pure Carrara marble. She has the silhouette of a Giacometti sculpture and has crushed movies, television, and all the Hollywood things as effortlessly, it would seem, as my kids pop bubble wrap. While her peers blew in white-hot, cooled to red-hot, then fizzled, flatlined, and peeled off into God knows where, Nicole Kidman just kept accelerating forward. I can’t think of a time she hasn’t been relevant. Big screen, small screen, all the medium-size screens. She has been everywhere in our lives, yet we never tire of her.
And just when I think Nicole Kidman, movie star among movie stars, couldn’t be more intimidating, I get the email. “Danielle should meet NK…for a dual hyperbaric chamber session….” I reread it a few times, hoping it’ll become English. ChatGPT tells me to prepare for an enclosed, sealed chamber that pumps out pure oxygen while increasing barometric pressure until air pressure is increased two to three times. The goals (if you believe in that sort of thing) range from increasing oxygen levels in the body to fighting infections. This is next-level intimidation. Hyperbaric intimidation.
A few days later I’m in a day spa not far from Kidman’s home in Nashville. As soon as she arrives, Kidman walks up, shakes my hand, and starts laughing. “Have you done this before? Do you know anything about it? This is so crazy, isn’t it?” she says. No, no, yes. Kidman shakes her head at the chamber with a “Hell is this?” look. This clearly wasn’t the most meticulously thought-through activity, but sure, we’re here, why not?
Imagine the fuselage of a pocket-size Gulfstream. Not quite enough room to stand unless you’re a garden gnome—certainly not if you’re five feet ten+.
“They told me to dress like I would on an airplane,” says Kidman, wearing black leggings, a striped long-sleeve shirt, and the vibe of someone who likes to be comfortable when she travels. She kicks off her Balenciaga sneakers, crouches, and walks inside. An origami crane folding onto itself. “Come on, Danielle! We’re doing this!”
A young woman with a bouncy ponytail and a Southern drawl gives us a tour, which is sort of like touring a refrigerator. Moments later, Ponytail leaves and seals us in (if you weren’t claustrophobic before, you could be heading in that direction). Kidman and I sit down, oxygen masks strapped to our faces like two confused astronauts.