Nicole Kidman’s performance in her latest film, Babygirl, is engaging from the outset, but it feels distinctly like acting—at least, her character’s portrayal does. Kidman plays Romy Mathis, a New York CEO, who, during an opening scene, experiences an orgasm while having sex with her husband, Jacob (Antonio Banderas). However, as the film progresses, we come to realize that this initial experience was merely a façade.
The film sharpens the conversation surrounding opportunities for older women actors. Demi Moore may soon take home an Oscar for her poignant depiction of the struggles of middle age in The Substance, while Kidman finds herself in a prominent role that involves Botox, submissive fantasies, and sexual encounters that serve as pivotal plot points.
Babygirl tackles provocative themes, addressing the experiences of senior women in corporate environments, age-gap relationships, and S&M dynamics, all presented without a clear agenda. It playfully asks, “How inappropriate do you find this?” Next, we see Romy at her workplace, which focuses on automated parcel delivery. A group of interns has joined the team, one of whom, Samuel (Harris Dickinson), appears unfazed. Their exchanges carry tension; when Romy asks him to get her a coffee, he obliges but warns her against drinking it after lunch. This moment leaves Kidman momentarily stunned—Is it old-school sexism, a health tip from a blunt Gen Z, or a flirtation with hidden implications? Director Halina Reijn (of Bodies Bodies Bodies fame) skillfully captures the subtle undercurrents in their interactions.
Once the extramarital affairs begin, the power dynamics shift, with Samuel taking a more dominant role. One might think we’re entering another Fifty Shades of Grey territory, but the film presents these escapades with more real-world stakes and a touch of humor, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. The film subtly questions its own narrative—Are we really engaging in this?
In its satirical take on corporate life, Babygirl occasionally holds back, but it certainly has its moments of directness. Romy’s casual reference to her upbringing in “communes and cults” suggests a mindset suited for sexual power games—or perhaps for certain styles of leadership. The question of “Who’s in charge?” continues to shift throughout the film, though one answer remains conspicuously obvious: Romy’s Midtown office is actually the headquarters for A24, the film’s studio backers.
Given the film’s focus on sex, strong performances are crucial. Dickinson successfully navigates a character whose combination of youthful awkwardness and bedroom confidence could have been challenging to portray.
However, Kidman’s nuanced interpretation brings depth to Reijn’s concepts. Interestingly, Babygirl contains much less nudity than one might anticipate, yet it remains provocative enough to prompt reflection on why actors like Kidman and Demi Moore find themselves regaining prominence in Hollywood. Is it liberating, or is there something more complex at play? Babygirl may leave this open to interpretation, but it’s clear that Reijn intended for the film to resonate, provoking thought and discussion long after the credits roll.