In the skilful hands of Kidman and Dickinson, Romy and Samuel’s erotic encounters are punctuated by business-like discussions on the concept of consent and uneasy power vacuums that threaten to topple the lust and experimentation at the heart of their steamy brief encounter. Babygirl arrives in cinemas nationwide on January 10.
None of us is a truly open book, even with those closest to us. We all choose what we wish to divulge and what we keep locked away. That is never more true than in our deepest sexual desires. From a young age, we are taught to feel shame about sexual interests that stray from the vanilla. From our teenage years onwards, S&M, leather, roleplay, or kink are often quickly labelled as risque, not the norm and weird. As a result, people learn to suppress any sexual thoughts that others might label as odd or perverse. But those internal desires and wants never go away; they often morph into online porn addiction, feelings of shame, self-loathing and even sexual disconnect.
Romy (Nicole Kidman) has it all; she is the CEO of her own company, has a family she loves, and has a husband (Antonio Banderas) who treats her like a queen. But under the surface, her suppressed desires are reaching boiling point, and an opportunity to finally explore the fantasies she has kept locked away for so long is about to come knocking as a new intern at her company, Samuel (Harris Dickinson), opens a door that can never again be shut.
Romy may be in control of everything in her life, but what she craves in secret is to be controlled, to be a “Babygirl” to a dominant man who makes the rules in the bedroom and follows her instructions outside of it. She wants to be treated as a pet in a game of subservience and domination, yet equally intends to retain her sense of power outside of the bedroom.
Samuel sees Romy’s innermost fantasies from the first meeting because he shares them. Samuel wants to be an alpha male in the bedroom to a powerful woman. He wants to play with the power dynamics inherent in every office across the land, and unlike Romy, he isn’t going to suppress the desires he wants to explore over the festive holidays.
Samuel’s flirting carries an arrogance and confidence Romy can’t ignore. This junior boy, whose destiny she holds in her hands, defies and challenges her in public, their initial hot, heavy yet brisk encounters full of erotic energy that they both know could prove to be their undoing. And that’s the point; that’s what seals the deal, risk and reward. Soon, Romy and Samuel find themselves in a playful yet risky erotic tussle where rules are established only to be broken and long-simmering desires are allowed to fly free.
Some will compare Halina Reijn’s movie to Steven Shainberg’s Secretary (2002), and there are, indeed, some similarities. However, unlike Shainberg’s film, Babygirl is seen through a female lens, with Reijn confidently wrapping her story in discussions on female sexual empowerment, gender roles, seduction and powerplay. But Reijn’s movie is also a delightfully sharp discussion of differing generational attitudes to sex and desire.
Dickinson’s Samuel is outwardly confident in exploring his desires and unafraid to accept his kinks and needs. Yet, emotionally, he is unsure, his immaturity rippling beneath the lust and passion as he plays a game he thinks he can control but, in reality, can’t. At the same time, Kidman’s Romy knows what she wants and why she has denied herself it for so long, but Samuel’s youthful confidence takes her back to a feeling of discovering sex for the first time through play, one that is impossible to resist. Ultimately, both offer each other what they need at a price they are willing to pay.
The onscreen chemistry between Dickinson and Kidman is electric as they whip up a heady cocktail of eroticism and risk that never falls into simple clichés. There is emotional honesty in the messiness of their affair as Kidman’s Romy attempts to control the risk factors at play while Samuel revels in pushing her further, testing where the stop line is, like a horny teenager who knows no boundaries.
For Romy, his confidence and control are both alluring and petrifying as he shakes the foundations of her carefully compartmentalised life while equally creating his own. In the skilful hands of Kidman and Dickinson, Romy and Samuel’s erotic encounters are punctuated by business-like discussions on the concept of consent and uneasy power vacuums that threaten to topple the lust and experimentation at the heart of their steamy brief encounter.
This year has been a hot and heavy one in film, from fresh perspectives on sex work in Anora and Sebastian to unquenchable yet uncertain desire in Queer and dangerously repressed sexuality in Femme.
Like the films before it, Babygirl never passes judgment, asking the audience to question the feelings of shame that underlie many long-suppressed desires. It is the story of a young man keen to play out his deepest fantasies in the company of an older woman who has never explored the full spectrum of her sexuality. The age gap between them is ultimately irrelevant in their brief union. Yet, power dynamics, position, and place are far trickier to navigate in a game that both frees and entraps during an uneasy yet intoxicating sexual rebirth.
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