Babygirl Review: An Intelligent, Erotic Exploration In The Pleasure Of Relinquishing Power

"Babygirl," the latest feature from actress-turned-director Halina Reijn ("Bodies Bodies Bodies") starts with a woman named Romy (Nicole Kidman) in a position too many women have found themselves in before — faking an orgasm before rushing off to masturbate to pornography in hiding so she can actually get off. She has done this so frequently that she practically has it down to a science, reaching orgasm after putting on a reliable video and assuming the position while her loving husband Jacob (Antonio Banderas) snoozes away in post-coital bliss. For anyone who is familiar with Kidman and Banderas' work, the situation likely seems preposterous. Both actors are certifiable sex symbols in their own right, with the latter often cast solely for his ability to whip housewives into a frenzy with a wink at the camera and his evergreen on-camera prowess.

From what we are shown in these moments, Jacob seems like a giving, formidable lover, but his particular brand of lovemaking isn't what Romy covets. She doesn't need a partner who prioritizes giving her pleasure — she wants to be debased, ordered into submission, and in a position where she forfeits all of her privileges as a wealthy white CEO of an incredibly influential company. But Jacob is a "progressive man," one who doesn't sexually feel comfortable degrading women and isn't wired to find enjoyment in being dominant (as is his right!) but this leaves Romy unsatisfied and devastatingly sexually frustrated, something her new intern Samuel (Harris Dickinson) sniffs right out of her.

Hollywood as of late has been fixated on stories of older women seducing younger men in situations of abusive (or unethical) power dynamics, but very few are interested in exploring the pleasure of relinquishing one's power. Maybe it's a fear of coming off as "anti-feminist" or "perpetuating the patriarchy" or whatever other buzzwords people want to parrot to justify an immoral dislike of this dynamic, but "Babygirl" recognizes that Romy and Samuel each have power over one another in very different circumstances, and that's what makes it all so tantalizing.

As a powerful business voice in a male-dominated world, Romy is the personification of a woman who "leans in." She has the perfect home, the perfect husband, the perfect children, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect staff, the perfect office, and the perfectly rehearsed soundbites before public appearances. When you've bought into all of the #GirlBoss platitudes that supposedly define A Successful Woman™ in 2024, yearning for a man telling you to crawl on all fours like a dog and eat candy out of his hand in a filthy motel is a recipe for deeply rooted shame. But "Babygirl" doesn't want Romy to feel shame for her lust, nor does the film judge her for her illicit affair with Samuel — it wants her to eroticize it all. Take all of those negative feelings, and let them be the motivating factor to feel good.

Romy and Samuel's arrangement is often messy, and the lines of whether or not this is an extra-curricular activity or a "lifestyle" they're entering aren't always clear, reflective of Romy's inexperience in a dom/sub relationship as someone whose only exposure before this was pornography watched in incognito mode, and Samuel's young age. A lot of people watching "Babygirl" are likely hoping for the second coming of "Secretary" or "50 Shades of Grey But With Consent," but that's not the purpose of the exploration. Sure, putting Maggie Gyllenhaal in a spreader bar will always be alluring, but "Babygirl" is about the sex appeal of self-imposed submission without the need for props — and why refusing to acknowledge your wants until you practically explode runs the risk of pushing you into a position where you're willing to blow up your entire life to fulfill those longings.

But Reijn has no interest in lecturing or hammering the audience over the head with the message. She wants us on the edge of our seats from the danger of knowing what's at risk if Romy's affair is found out, only to needle-drop George Michael's "Father Figure" to make us squirm with how unbelievably hot it is.

25 years ago, Nicole Kidman gave us the final film line to end all final film lines in Stanley Kubrick's erotic masterpiece "Eyes Wide Shut," making her casting in "Babygirl" feel like a role she was destined to play. Dickinson's Samuel may be dominant in this relationship, but as any good power bottom will tell you, it's Kidman's Romy who is in complete control of the film, so when she does concede that power, it's because she has chosen to. Kidman's performance is simultaneously vulnerable and feral, yet another tally on the board proving her as one of the greatest to ever do it.

Dickinson, who has been on a steady ascension into superstar territory, has arguably the more difficult role of the two and plays it like a fiddle. He fluctuates between the assured Lothario who sends a glass of milk to Romy in a public setting just to play with her and a twentysomething who still hasn't figured out how to fully regulate his emotions when it comes to matters of the heart. It's a reminder that these fantasy figures like Christian Grey are exactly that — a fantasy. Doms are people too, and with that comes the imperfection of humans.

Dickinson and Kidman are elevated by an equally layered and committed supporting cast, with "Talk To Me" star Sophie Wilde personifying a ticking time bomb as Romy's assistant, Esther McGregor absolutely nailing the "eldest daughter must become the de-facto mother when mommy is a mess" role, all while Banderas gets the chance to show off a softer, more vulnerable side compared to his usual Casanova casting. And they do it all without ever falling into the formulaic trappings of the erotic thrillers of yesteryear. Reijn has frequently mentioned being inspired by the films of Paul Verhoeven (Reijn worked with him as an actress in "Black Book"), but "Babygirl" isn't trying to be Verhoeven — it's much more subtle and cerebral than that, but very clearly crafted by someone who appreciates his brand of in-your-face horniness.

But Romy's whole thing is that she's too overwhelmed with shame to put her desires on front street, and the movie is a reflection of that tension. This isn't a film about release, but anticipation.

Sex scenes are a necessary element of storytelling, but it seems like every day there's another debate or survey result about how "Gen Z hates sex scenes." It's a cyclical discourse that won't seem to die, despite as Kate Hagen's "2020 Symposium on Sex Scenes for Playboy" proved, we're currently "less likely to see sex or nudity in a movie today than we have been at any point since 1970." Multiple factors have led to this decline, which makes "Babygirl" feel all the more appropriate for these sexless times. There's an inherent restraint to Romy and Samuel's sexcapades, even after they've begun banging in Romy's office when she's supposed to be mentoring him as part of an in-office program.

Romy has spent decades internalizing her kink to the brink of psychoanalysis, and her inability to give herself over to absolute pleasure or voice her desires to her husband without covering her face with a pillow holds a mirror to America's outward presentation of returning to puritanical behavior but embracing hedonism behind closed doors. It's why, for example, there is a statistical correlation between conservative areas and searches for pornography featuring transgender performers.

As such, it makes perfect sense that "Babygirl" would be less interested in serving up the goods on a silver platter, instead thrusting the audience into a whirlwind of breathy voices pleading, "We can't," and soaked undergarments we try to convince ourselves we aren't wearing. The only lesson to be learned is that Americans as a whole suck at expressing our erotes, and if we don't get better at it, we're destined to be caught between unfulfillment or destruction.

/Film Rating: 8 out of 10

"Babygirl" opens in theaters on December 25, 2024.