BABYGIRL (2024) review

written by: Halina Reijn
produced by: David Hinojosa, Halina Reijn, and Julia Oh
directed by: Halin a Reijn
rated: R (R for strong sexual content, nudity and language)
runtime: 114 min.
U.S. release date: December 25, 2024

The tagline to the latest film from Dutch writer/director Halina Reijn’s “Babygirl” promises, “This Christmas get exactly what you want,” which could mean various things. If you’re a fiftysomething female with unfulfilled sexual desires who secretly yearns to be dominated by a bold twentysomething male, this one’s for you. Or maybe you’re a twentysomething corporate bro who knows precisely what kind of carnal antics your company’s attractive fiftysomething CEO is lacking. If so, this psychological erotic thriller is calling you. Perhaps you lament the absence of the erotic thrillers of the 80s and 90s from the likes of Paul Verhoeven and Adrian Lyne that used to be released in theaters. Well, “Babygirl” will likely satiate that void. Reijn (“Bodies Bodies Bodies”) has all of this in mind while taking a surprisingly smart and unexpected approach to this provocative dramedy that’s a horror flick for prudes.

Romy Mathis (Nicole Kidman) is a high-ranking CEO of Tensile Automation. She describes herself as a “strategy expert and a human expert” as if to convince herself rather than anyone within earshot. She resides in a Manhattan high-rise with her playwright husband, Jacob (Antonio Banderas), and their two teen daughters, Isabel (Esther McGregor) and Nora (Vaughan Reilly), expending most of her energy managing work stress and keeping up appearances as a top-level performer. Her eager assistant, Esme (Sophie Wilde “Talk to Me”), has patiently positioned herself for a promotion, seeing Romy as someone to emulate in the workforce.

One morning, while on her way to work, Romy witnesses a young man confidently calm a rambunctious unleashed canine heading towards her. She is taken aback at how commanding he seems and is curious at his evident grasp of control. Minutes later, Romy sees this handsome guy inside her glass-enclosed office and learns that Samuel (Harris Dickinson) is one of several new interns seeking field experience. soon enough, she is taken aback once again by him as he slyly proclaims Romy will be his mentor in hopes of learning from her determination and position.

Initially, Romy is annoyed at his brazen assertiveness, but his confidence and boldness also turn her on. When she asks him how he could subdue the dog earlier, Samuel tells her he has a dog biscuit in his pocket. She’s wondering what we are: Does he always carry them in his pockets? If so, why? Romy is also initially annoyed at how dominant he is…or at least she appears to be. Internally, she is beginning to realize she’s attracted to Samuel’s disposition. She soon becomes aware of the challenges and dangers that attraction poses to the domestic and business life for which she’s worked so hard.

The film’s cold opening gives us an indication as to why an extra-marital attraction would allure Romy. Reijn introduces us to a naked Romy atop Jacob in the throngs of sexual passion. The director reunites with Dutch cinematographer Jasper Wolf, who positions the camera above Kidman, closing in on her face and almost blocking out Banderas. It would seem the two have a satisfying sex life, but after Jacob climaxes, Romy puts on a shirt and scurries off the living room, where she writhes on the floor to the glow of laptop porn. Not only is Romy on top when they have sex, she also has to take control in order finish herself off. In a domestic argument later on in “Babygirl,” Romy retorts to Jacob that she’s never had an orgasm with him. Her personal life is yearning for some drastic change.

It’s pretty telling that Jacob has been busy staging a production of Henrik Ibsen’s “Hedda Gabler,” a play about a woman trapped in a dead-end marriage and living in a home she’d rather escape. Yet he can’t see how unsatisfied Romy is in their marriage, and it takes time spent with Samuel for her to learn that she can find pleasure and fulfillment in her desires for dominance and submission from him. Soon enough, Romy is spending more and more time with Samuel under the guise of mentorship and late work hours. She goes from reluctance to intrigue, as Samuel requires her to do anything she tells her to do. That goes from getting down on her knees for subjugation in a seedy Lower East Side hotel room to drinking a glass of milk that he orders from the bar across from a table she sits at with her colleagues. She obliges to all of it, aroused by her compliance. Eventually, their secretive relationship threatens Romy’s family life and business responsibilities as Samuel increases his power over her with manipulative tactics, well aware of what he’s doing.

It’s fascinating how Reijn and Kidman can convey a journey for a woman who is a strong leader in all aspects of her life yet yearns for powerlessness. Maybe it’s because so many rely on her in the workplace, and as a mother, she supports Isabel’s teen rebellion and romantic freedom. But she spends her days making important decisions and choices for others and herself, like maintaining her appearance with beauty enhancements (we see her engage in cryotherapy, light therapy, and botox, which brings to mind our assumption of Kidman’s regiment). As we witness all this play out, it’s easy to wonder how Romy could risk it all, not to mention all the obvious HR red flags at just about every turn, but it becomes clear that Reijn is actually making a fantasy here. It’s a hot and disturbing fantasy that scratches a specific itch for Romy as it escalates into potential domestic destruction.

At times, “Babygirl” has some needle drops that veer toward the obvious, such as the use of George Michael’s “Father Figure” during an evening of control games for the duo, which takes the seriousness out of the subject matter. A comparison to Michael Haneke’s “The Piano Lesson” and Steven Shainberg’s “Secretary” is understandable. Still, there’s more going on here than the overwhelming Freudian signs and office kink those films respectively provide.

Within Reijn’s carefully constructed screenplay, Kidman and Dickinson deftly navigate their characters’ intimacy with convincing magnetism and intensity. It’s obvious, though, that this is being told from a female’s perspective (from screenplay to director to star), so don’t expect an examination of Samuel’s motivations. Kidman has always taken on bold roles that challenge her talents and demand an inevitable reckoning of her inner struggles and strengths. Yes, Kidman is nude in many of the scenes she has with Dickinson (who, from my recollection, keeps his pants on), but nothing ever feels gratuitous or exploitative, nor are they shot in any revealing manner.

The third act will likely be contentious for some viewers, primarily how Banderas’ Jacob responds to the revelation of Romy’s carnal antics. It’s more unexpected than outrageous, and Banderas delivers raw and real emotions (that could be compared to Kidman’s boldness), which subvert our expectations of a spouse learning that shocking truth.

What’s most interesting about Reijn’s screenplay is how it is void of any complex judgments. Romy is primarily complicit in her illicit affair with Samuel, and at no point does he come across as physically abusive. None of this feels like perversity but rather a revelation of desires and needs. Sure, it would be better to talk out such lustful longings within the sanctity of marriage rather than seek it elsewhere, but sometimes people have to figure that out the hard way.

RATING: ***