Movie Review: ‘Babygirl’ inverts traditional power dynamics in its troubled romance

By Kirk Boxleitner
Posted 1/15/25

 

 

Writer-director Halina Reijn’s “Babygirl,” starring Nicole Kidman and Antonio Banderas, is inspired by 1992’s “Basic Instinct” and …

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Movie Review: ‘Babygirl’ inverts traditional power dynamics in its troubled romance

Posted

 

 

Writer-director Halina Reijn’s “Babygirl,” starring Nicole Kidman and Antonio Banderas, is inspired by 1992’s “Basic Instinct” and 1993’s “Indecent Proposal,” and is playing at The Rose Theatre in Port Townsend.

A challenge in recreating the taboo heat of the erotic thrillers of decades past, such as those made by directors Paul Verhoeven and Adrian Lyne, is that the frisson that fuels such erotic thrillers essentially requires that main characters transgress other people’s boundaries.

It’s no coincidence that Reijn cited films from the early 1990s as her inspirations, because like me, she was born in 1975, which means her adult sexuality imprinted on that era.

She’s had some time since then to consider how to rework those old tropes for more modern sensibilities, since modern audiences have far less tolerance for questionable consent.

Covert whirlwind courtships sparking between corporate coworkers is practically a genre cliché, but making the boss a woman still slightly qualifies as a novelty, while having the younger, less experienced partner — in this case, Harris Dickinson, playing the 20-something post-collegiate intern of Kidman’s CEO character — definitely turns the expected dynamic on its head.

Contrary to a number of unfulfilled adulterous wife narratives, Kidman is paired with a handsome, sensitive, loving husband (I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit that I might have a hard time saying no to a salt-and-pepper-bearded Banderas).

As such, Kidman’s inability to achieve sexual release is portrayed as her problem, and specifically, we’re shown that it’s a symptom of her compulsion toward remaining perfectly self-possessed at all times.

Kidman’s character knows what she wants, but she doesn’t want to admit it, so she doesn’t admit it to her doting husband, who can’t help but leave her unsatisfied.

By contrast, the seemingly fearless young intern instinctively susses out what she wants, and simultaneously transgresses her boundaries while obtaining her consent. By the very act of forcing her to explicitly state, out loud, what she actually wants, he’s ironically breaking down her free will.

In essence, Reijn makes the point that buying into corporate notions of “You can have it all!” feminism can itself become a confining, anti-feminist trap.

In the name of living up to an ideal of “empowered women” in the workplace, Kidman’s job revolves around mouthing soulless platitudes about how artificial intelligence and automation can liberate consumers, all while we see her undergoing cosmetic injections.

Considering that Kidman has repeatedly denied allegations of having undergone plastic surgery in real life, having her character’s daughter ridicule her for her post-Botox-shot puffy “fish” lips is a bold choice.

As much as Reijn gets right, I’m not quite sure she sticks the landing, since her directorial conclusion feels overly tidy in the wake of its intentionally messy threads and unexplored dark alleys.