Babygirl – Film Review
Reviewed by Damien Straker on the 27th of January 2025
Nixco presents a film by Halina Reijn
Written by Halina Reijn
Produced by David Hinojosa, Halina Reijn, and Julia Oh
Starring Nicole Kidman, Harris Dickinson, Sophie Wilde, Antonio Banderas, Esther McGregor, and Vaughan Reilly
Cinematography Jasper Wolf
Edited by Matthew Hannam
Music by Cristobal Tapia de Veer
Rating: MA15+
Running Time: 114 minutes
Release Date: the 30th of January 2025
Nicole Kidman’s new film, Babygirl, falls tantalisingly short of greatness. It is elevated by its outstanding lead performance and a strong dramatic scenario involving family drama and sexual politics. Directed by Halina Reijn (Bodies Bodies Bodies, 2022), the film is a timely look at shifting power dynamics in the workplace through a post-MeToo era lens. Moreover, it marks another solid effort from A24 to support mid-budget films about adult relationships. It is a pity then that despite its many virtues the film raises more questions than it answers. This concern is particularly true regarding Babygirl’s side characters. Evidently, the film was a draft or two away from being more than just a very well made, well-acted corporate thriller. The chance to probe deeper into these complex, flawed people is eluded just as the tense story ignites.
This erotic thriller’s sexual conflict is dramatised within a slick corporate setting. Romy (Kidman) is a humourless, uptight CEO of a New York shipping company that is preparing to utilise AI. She is always too preoccupied with her work and phone to be concerned with her family. One night she and her husband, Jacob (Antonio Banderas, underused), a theatre director, sleep together but unsatisfactorily. She sneaks into the next room to watch pornography alone. The couple also share two daughters, one of whom is a lesbian (Esther McGregor).
At work, she is being gently pressed by her assistant, Esme (Sophie Wilde, Talk to Me), about receiving a promotion. A more frustrating intrusion for Romy is the arrival of several interns. She is stuck guiding a young man named Samuel (Harris Dickinson) who she first sees in the street with his rabid dog. A brief meeting together results in an unexpected, unprofessional collision where they share a kiss. The mistake leads to a bizarre power struggle of sex and resistance. Romy escalates her affair with Samuel but knows she could also lose everything if she resists.
Halina Reijn’s formal compositions evoke both the dry corporate atmosphere and the psychology of Romy herself. The film opens with a complex visual binary. The sex scene between Romy and Jacob is soon proceeded by a wide angle shot of the enormous factory floor that will be controlled by AI. The idea created by this montage is that the couple’s physical love is mechanical and lacking genuine adventure. Jacob concedes that he does not want to be a villain in bed. This concept of banality and dispassion is also projected through the film’s desaturated colour scheme. The volume of metal and glass panels and the pale, desaturated colour tones around the corporation further underline Romy’s boredom with her own authority. One can imagine how a CEO in this position would regularly go unchallenged by others.
The colourless, banal world she inhabits provides credence as to why she is attracted to a lowly intern. Cleverly, this seemingly innocuous young fellow appears unflashy and undesirable. It is also what makes him surprising and tantalising to Romy. His risk-taking and power moves blindside and thrill her. He becomes the avalanche to the corporate world she jokes about. The images of the corporate life strongly evoke the dry setting and Romy’s desire for spontaneity.
Halina Reijn is also efficient at staging the affair’s shifting power dynamics. Consider a critical bondage scene set in a hotel room. The handheld camera follows Romy into the room from behind her back. This technique regularly captures her impatience because in the corporate world she is constantly moving and time poor. The scene follows several critical beats. Romy is told to face the corner alone like a child. She then sits on the bed. Soon Samuel sits down too and tells her to crawl on all fours on the floor and to drink something. The camera follows her to the ground and lies dormant. It films Romy in a single unbroken take as Samuel pleasures her. The low angle reflects her submissiveness, and the shot duration infers her complicity with a more sexually adventurous partner than Jacob.
The blocking of this scene and its power shift has clear progression. It is preferable to the story’s stalker-like elements and some other stylistic choices. For example, a montage of Romy and Samuel having wild sex around the office is set to INXS’s song ‘Never Tear Us Apart’. It is an undeniably fun song choice, but it is also not a subtle accompaniment to the images. Nonetheless, the blocking of the two actors remains strong before we reach the screenplay’s shaky final quarter.
Nicole Kidman proves why she is one of the most significant actresses of the last thirty years. Few are better at transforming into a coldblooded ice sculpture than she is. Romy’s distance from her peers, who are shocked when she joins them for drinks, reflects the precise casting. This is also a film that underlines how daring Kidman’s film roles can be. She is asked to be in some highly confronting scenes, particularly the hotel room moment. Yet just as she was uncompromising in Big Little Lies (2017), she handles these difficult scenes with such raw intensity that it is impossible to disengage from her unpleasant character. Romy’s mention of dark thoughts and how she was raised in a commune tease deeper secrets about her past.
This ambiguity continues with Harris Dickinson’s character. His minimalist acting style cannot be ignored. Making Samuel unsophisticated in appearance is a masterstroke too. However, it is also infuriating how his backstory is concealed. Who is he exactly? A shot in a flashy nightclub rave scene even raises questions over his sexuality. Besides the obvious, what is it that he really wants? He seems to ‘train’ people in the way one would teach their dog new tricks. Even that angle is glib, inferring kinks can be transferred to others and solve their problems. Samuel and the assistant Esme become examples of how power wielded positively and negatively. The inclusion of this coda begins to erode the story’s plausibility and realism. The story issues are mostly forgivable though because Babygirl’s strengths lie in its intensity and performances.
As mentioned, this is a fascinating, well-made adult drama that falls short of its ambitions. It works best as a straight thriller because the stakes in the post-MeToo era feel enormous. It is impossible to look at this film without considering the discourse in recent years around consent, workplace professionalism, and sexual harassment. It is also inverted because it is rarer in films today to see an older woman in a position of power being pursued by a much younger man.
Meanwhile, we feel Romy’s predicament because she is unsatisfied at home but also carelessly discarding her professional reputation. Additionally, the visual and formal choices made by Halina Reijn precisely show the banal, unexciting world of the corporate life. It is why Romy is captured by this seemingly untidy and disarming young fellow. Both Nicole Kidman and Harris Dickinson emerge as the right actors to handle this complex material. It is a shame then that the backstories of these two characters are unsatisfying. The ambiguity simplifies and neatly resolves what should be a deeply troubling love triangle. Still, the film is worth seeing for the performances alone even if the story is not quite an affair to remember.
Summary: The film is worth seeing for the performances alone even if the story is not quite an affair to remember.