Babygirl is a perfectly pleasant film to watch, though you will probably never think about it again. The story of a sexually repressed CEO and her ill-advised affair with a much younger intern is… fine!
The film begins with Nicole Kidman in bed, a recurring theme throughout, with varying degrees of orgasm involved. Primarily, we see numerous shots of Kidman’s Romy lying restlessly on her phone, her unhappy face illuminated in grey-blue light next to her oblivious, sleeping husband. All of this establishes marital, and sexual, disillusionment.
This husband (Antonio Banderas) is presented as a sort of saintly figure, except for the fatal flaw of being terrible in bed. This is essentially the beating heart of the entire film and the instigator for all subsequent events. Romy wants to orgasm; her husband doesn’t make that happen.
Naturally, she must therefore turn to her alarmingly confident new intern, a schmoozy Harris Dickinson. He tames rabid dogs with biscuits and pleases dissatisfied CEOs with his talent for BDSM-style role play. Her saviour! This is the crux of Babygirl: its half-hearted message of dissatisfaction in marriage is turned into a full-throttle message of repressed BDSM desires.
The best parts of the film are those moments where it veers into the comedic, giving audiences a brief interlude before the next shot of Nicole Kidman looking stony and stressed. It is here, occasionally, that the film acknowledges the ridiculousness of the situation, the innate teenage awkwardness of everyone involved, being so relentlessly horny in the face of job insecurity.
“Are you dating her?” Romy whimpers upon discovering Samuel’s other girlfriend, with Kidman masterfully and momentarily transformed into a jealous teenage girl rather than the icy 50-year-old CEO. “Isn’t that man in there your husband?” he rebuffs.
The real victim in all of this is, of course, the husband, but he is so boring it is hard to care. What audiences are primed for is the sexual shock factor of seeing Nicole Kidman pretending to be a dog, eating out of hands on a shabby hotel room’s carpet, not whether she is being a bit disrespectful to the sanctity of matrimony.
Babygirl probably has a message or several—female pleasure, age-gap relationships, communication, sexual shame, etc.—but really, its lasting message is one of Not Much. Too much is left unsaid, and what is said isn’t what is interesting. I mean, use your words, Babygirl!
Illustration by Jessica Bolevin