In Halina Reijn’s Babygirl, the collision of modern consumerism and personal desire takes center stage in a darkly comic, kinky erotic thriller that explores the tension between instant gratification and the deeper, often unsettling cravings that lie beneath the surface. It’s a provocative film that holds up a mirror to our times, asking uncomfortable questions about control, pleasure, and the cost of both.
Nicole Kidman stars as Romy Mathis, the CEO of Tensile, a robotics company on the cutting edge of the automotive industry. The film opens with an eerie sequence of machines operating with precision—conveyor belts and robotic arms moving boxes autonomously. This robotic imagery sets the tone for Romy’s own life, which is meticulously curated to the point of feeling almost mechanical. From Botox to high-end real estate and corporate jargon, Romy’s world is one of calculated perfection, yet beneath this polished exterior, she is clearly in turmoil. Kidman brings an understated intensity to Romy, embodying a woman who has everything on the outside but is consumed by something much darker on the inside.
Babygirl is a film that thrives on power dynamics, shifting them in surprising ways throughout its narrative. The story dives into the complexity of human desire and the twisted paths it can take when unchecked. Romy’s carefully controlled life begins to unravel when she meets Samuel (Harris Dickinson), a young intern at Tensile who, with an unsettling calmness, exudes an air of dangerous confidence. The film sharply contrasts Romy’s corporate power with Samuel’s raw, almost animalistic energy, setting the stage for a dangerous, intoxicating affair. Samuel’s blunt remark, “I think you like to be told what to do,” sparks the beginning of their increasingly intense relationship. It quickly becomes clear that their connection is more than just physical; it evolves into a power struggle that’s at once thrilling and troubling.
Kidman’s performance as Romy is magnetic, with each moment reflecting the internal conflict she experiences as she leans further into the affair. Her growing entanglement with Samuel is both seductive and unsettling, and Kidman portrays the complexity of Romy’s desires with nuanced restraint. Dickinson’s portrayal of Samuel is equally compelling. His presence is quiet but charged with an intensity that perfectly complements Kidman’s energy. Despite the age gap between the two, their chemistry is undeniable, and it’s this strange connection that drives the film’s emotional core.
The film’s more absurd moments—like one in which Samuel feeds Romy milk while Father Figure by George Michael blares—may veer into camp, but the performances keep it grounded. Kidman’s ability to balance Romy’s vulnerability and her thirst for submission feels both uncomfortable and hypnotic. As the affair intensifies, Samuel’s power over Romy deepens, and the tension heightens, especially as the threat of their relationship being exposed looms. The film plays with the post-#MeToo landscape, infusing their CEO-intern dynamic with an irony that makes it all the more provocative.
Sophie Wilde also shines as Esme, Romy’s ambitious assistant, whose career aspirations add an undercurrent of tension to the film. Esme’s desires and her quiet manipulation offer a subtle but potent layer to the power games already at play. Yet Babygirl is less concerned with the intricacies of workplace politics than it is with the raw, often uncomfortable exploration of human desire. The film does a remarkable job of depicting how deeply intertwined power, lust, and vulnerability can be, no matter how ludicrous or unhealthy they might seem.
Late in the film, Samuel describes their relationship as “two children playing,” an apt metaphor for their emotionally charged and increasingly dangerous dynamic. Despite the darker moments, there’s a strange tenderness that emerges, especially as Romy comes to terms with her own internal struggle between surrender and self-preservation.
Babygirl was shot in the New York headquarters of its distributor, A24, adding a layer of self-awareness to the film. This choice feels like a commentary on control and submission within an industry built on spectacle and manipulation. The film begins by exploring automation and digital overload, but as the narrative unfolds, it occasionally becomes distracted by its own symbolic excesses. Nonetheless, its core—an exploration of desire, power, and the consequences of both—remains compelling.
At its heart, Babygirl is an exploration of the darkness that lingers just beneath the surface of seemingly perfect lives, and the film’s raw, emotional intensity ensures it’s a story that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll. Kidman delivers an unforgettable performance, and the film’s bold exploration of sexuality and power dynamics makes it a gripping, if sometimes unsettling, watch.
Babygirl is an A24 release, rated R for “strong sexual content, nudity, and language.” Running time: 114 minutes. 3 out of 4 stars.
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