Romy Mathis (Nicole Kidman) has never orgasmed. Not with a partner, at least. It certainly hasn’t happened with her husband, Jacob (Antonio Banderas). (Which seems remarkably unrealistic, but alas, Halina Reijn’s Babygirl is a work of fiction.) We learn this later in the picture, but it’s worth noting up top due to how the Dutch director’s third feature begins: With a loud, breathy soundtrack of moans that genuinely made this critic look around his theater to make sure it was, indeed, coming from the screen. It’s a dual effort between Romy and Jacob, but considering the former’s pleasure-related affliction, it’s no wonder that the ensuing scene finds her writhing in release as she finishes the job herself on the floor of her home office, porn quietly playing from a laptop. This is a woman who knows what she wants, even if it’s not particularly appropriate to make it known given her standing.
She’s the founder and CEO of a thriving robotics company with a Midtown Manhattan headquarters; basically, she’s the kind of person who cannot, under any circumstances, become ensnared in a scandal. But it’s so hard to care when you have an appealing new intern who looks a lot like Harris Dickinson and is so damn charismatic, albeit a touch brusque for someone whose employment at a Fortune 500 company is temporary in nature. His name is Samuel, and he has an innate ability to ascertain someone’s exact sexual preoccupation in the matter of a few reciprocated glances and limited conversation. Or perhaps he’s only able to do that with Romy, a powerful yet desperate target who wears her desires on a sleeve that only Samuel can see.
You can probably guess where things are going here: The two embark on a passionate, illicit affair – age gap discourse be damned – that opens Romy’s eyes, in particular, to the reality of her sub/dom fantasy, in that it’s much more than a fantasy after all. It might even transcend “want”; this sort of power dynamic, one where she isn’t the one in charge, is something she needs. She covets his knack for disarmament. An early exchange between the two sees Samuel say to Romy, “You shouldn’t drink coffee after lunch. How many do you have a day?” Initially, she shuts down his curt observation, telling him it’s none of his business. Not a millisecond later, she’s given herself up: “Seven.” He’s willing to treat her like they’re on the same level, something no one in her life will do. Not her husband; not her doting assistant (Talk to Me’s Sophie Wilde); not even her kids, two people who should never view a parent with influence as anything but “Mom” or “Dad.” Samuel comments on her caffeine addiction, addresses a facial blemish that wasn’t there the day before, and even corrects her. When she attempts to play the boss card, telling him she has seven minutes for their one-on-one feedback meeting – there are quite a few “sevens” here; I wonder if Reijn has seen that scene from Friends? – he shuts her down, reclaiming the 15 minutes she promised. “It’s about giving and taking power,” it is said later in the film. But Samuel has the power in spades. That’s the way Romy wants it, too.
Babygirl might not possess a particularly fresh conceit – it’s not even the first time Kidman has played the older love interest in a film this year – but what sets it apart is how whip-smart it is in playing its cards, all of which carry a thematic weight far heavier than the genre is used to. Typically, these sorts of erotic dramas tend to focus on sex and pleasure, but not the implications that those sensations have on the people engaging in them. Dickinson’s Samuel is a twisted bugger, a fearless young man who is willing to reassure Romy that what they’re doing is normal one second, only to turn around and tell her “I make one phone call, and you lose everything” the next. Kidman’s Romy, meanwhile, views herself as damaged due to the fact that she has these cravings. She could lose everything, but the alternative is too enticing to let her hunger stay dormant. Reijn, who wrote Babygirl in addition to directing, has full control over her character’s impulses to the point that we’re more attuned, as viewers, to what is happening inside Romy and Samuel as they converge, sexually and emotionally, to what they’re experiencing on the outside. It’s not often that a film of this design – sweaty, steamy, and sexy – elicits an internal reaction stronger than what it brings about externally.
That could be because there’s a surprising lack of heat to the whole affair, but one has to imagine that it’s by design. Like Reijn’s previous A24 collaboration, the 2023 horror-comedy Bodies Bodies Bodies, her latest is an intellectual and hilarious skewer of a film, one that doesn’t eschew sex in the least, but handles it differently than erotic entries like Body Heat and The Piano Teacher. Of course, times have changed since 1981, so don’t expect William Hurt to walk into the frame saying, “Hey, lady, wanna fuck?” Instead, enjoy a horny montage set to George Michael’s “Father Figure.” Yes, that’s the kind of movie this is.
It’s also the kind of movie that serves as a showcase for its stars, Kidman and Dickinson, both of whom are up for absolutely anything and everything. (As is Antonio Banderas, who gets just enough screen time to turn in what is easily his best performance since 2019’s Pain & Glory.) We’ve seen the Australian icon go all out before – Eyes Wide Shut, Birth, The Others, and even Stoker all come to mind – but her run as Hollywood’s most daring actress continues apace here. As Romy, she acutely captures dueling instincts: A ravenous appetite for intensity and the consuming fear of vulnerability. Dickinson, meanwhile, is more devilish than he’s ever been as Samuel, a young man who is hell-bent on psychoanalyzing his suitresses yet is frightened by his own ability to do so. There’s a boyish charm to it all, though a sinister current flows beneath the surface. Which is precisely what gets Romy off.
And that’s Babygirl’s most important quality: It’s Romy’s journey, and not just a journey she’s participating in as the romp of the month. A lesser director might have positioned Kidman’s character in that light, but Reijn knows the story she wants to tell, even as her narrative becomes somewhat muddled in the final third as the film delves into more conventional fare when Wilde’s Esme confronts her boss about her improper rendezvous with a guy she might also have an interest in seeing. Nevertheless, Babygirl remains cutting and stylish for much of its runtime, confidently asserting itself as a catalyst when it comes to reviving a genre where films like Adrian Lyne’s Deep Water and the woeful Miller’s Girl whiffed. Given those involved here, it’s no surprise that this is a(n) (a)rousing success that hits the spot just right. You know what I mean.
Babygirl held its North American Premiere as part of the Special Presentations section at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. The film will debut exclusively in theaters on December 25, 2024, courtesy of A24.
Director: Halina Reijn
Writer: Halina Reijn
Rated: Not yet rated
Runtime: 114m
Babygirl remains cutting and stylish for much of its runtime, confidently asserting itself as a catalyst when it comes to reviving a genre where films like Adrian Lyne’s Deep Water and the woeful Miller’s Girl whiffed. Given those involved here, it’s no surprise that this is a(n) (a)rousing success that hits the spot just right. You know what I mean.
-
GVN Rating
Will Bjarnar is a writer, critic, and video editor based in New York City. Originally from Upstate New York, and thus a member of the Greater Western New York Film Critics Association and a long-suffering Buffalo Bills fan, Will first became interested in movies when he discovered IMDb at a young age; with its help, he became a voracious list maker, poster lover, and trailer consumer. He has since turned that passion into a professional pursuit, writing for the film and entertainment sites Next Best Picture, InSession Film, Big Picture Big Sound, Film Inquiry, and, of course, Geek Vibes Nation. He spends the later months of each year editing an annual video countdown of the year’s 25 best films. You can find more of his musings on Letterboxd (willbjarnar) and on X (@bywillbjarnar).
