Spoiler Alert: This review contains key plot details about Babygirl — read at your own risk!
“Everything is about sex, except sex; sex is about power.” That quote is famously attributed to Oscar Wilde, the playwright and poet who lived during the 1800s. And although Babygirl’s jailbait-coded intern Samuel (Harris Dickinson) — and perhaps the film in its entirety — criticizes a “dated idea of sexuality,” the two-century-old sentiment still rings true in Samuel’s connection, relationship and ensuing affair with glass ceiling-shattering CEO Romy Mathis (Nicole Kidman).
Babygirl is bookended with sex: It begins as it ends with Mathis sleeping with her husband (Antonio Banderas). In between, though, is a sexual tug-of-war among characters played by Kidman and Dickinson, who critics point out — whether rightly or wrongly — are aged 30 years apart.
This, of course, raises ethical and moral questions; not as much in the age gap (though salacious) but in the power dynamic that exists between an intern and a CEO. This film’s purpose is not to skewer corporate America on its poor human relations policies, but let’s just say those often-mocked HR sexual harassment onboarding videos don’t seem to be doing the trick.
These career path kinks try to flip norms — from feminism to patriarchy — if not on their heads, on their sides. “I think you like being told what to do,” the barely entry-level employee tells the wildly successful business leader. The audience initially may feel the need to choose the relationship’s “bad guy” — both Samuel and Mathis claim responsibility at times and blame each other at others.
But Babygirl might be making an even bigger point about how we got here in the first place: The way in which we live and structure our lives is misaligned with our very natural, very human, very normal propensity for desire, attraction and connection.
In the final scene, Mathis still fantasizes about Samuel while having sex with her husband, not long after her affair with Samuel almost tore their family apart. Those of the “outdated” mind may think: “How could she?” while the next generation seems to get it; Mathis’s daughter even tells her, “It’s OK.”
Which takes us to a series of leading questions: Is “attraction” something we can turn off? Can unfaithful lovers grovel for forgiveness and that’s it — everyone moves on squeaky clean? And on a grander scale: Is society talking about all of this the right way?
Director and writer Halina Reijn would probably say no. The most pivotal decision she makes in that last fantasy scene is to place Samuel alongside the dog that was barking when Mathis saw Samuel for the first time. In both scenes, the dog is a nod to the animalistic, undeniable nature of sexual desire and attraction. Mathis calls it “a darkness” of her childhood; it’s really just a burning fire inside all of us.
Mathis asks Samuel: “Hey, how’d you get that dog to calm down?”
Samuel replies: “I gave it a cookie.”
Mathis: “You always have cookies on you?”
Samuel doesn’t miss a beat: “Why? Do you want one?”
Not without some milk.
This article appears in Dec 11-24, 2024.