Like a sheep in wolf’s clothing, Halina Reijn’s surprisingly genteel “Babygirl” might bare the occasional fang, but it doesn’t have much bite. For all the superficial similarities to “50 Shades of Grey” — here too setting a lightly sadomasochistic relationship within a world of affluence, all while tacking on a much dreaded age-gap imbalance to send social media’s most ardent moralists into a tizzy — this dom-com plays more like an outré spin on “Working Girl,” updating Reagan-era wishcasting for the social set that has decided Kamala Is Brat.
Premiering at this year’s Venice Film Festival and set for release this December, “Babygirl” could easily emerge as a holiday season guilty pleasure, a sexy-but-never-dangerous star romp that streamlines kink for maximum commercial play. Teasing out fantasies of power exchange in the safest possible space, audiences can have their cake and eat it too — even if the treat is force-fed and consumed on all fours.
Nicole Kidman stars as Romy, the boss of all girlbosses with a Yale degree, a multimillion-dollar company, a Manhattan flat and Connecticut estate, and a devoted yet still randy husband who looks like Antonio Banderas. Life is good above the shards of that glace ceiling, so why then does Romy seem so aloof? And why does she slink off after marital lovemaking to give herself real pleasure before degradation porn?
The answer is hardly novel and in no way unique — remember, her peer class remains the economic base for the global dominatrix industry — but the doldrums affect Romy all the same. Power might be the ultimate aphrodisiac for those without, but once already at the top, well, heavy is the head that wears the Bluetooth mic. Our girl is numb, you see, living without sharp edges, where everyone at work defers to her and everyone at home knows who’s boss. Whether humoring an obsequious staffer or scolding a rebellious child, both interactions only reify her authority. That grows stale over time.
As Romy sleepwalks through bedroom and boardroom, Kidman keeps ever alert, modulating an inherent coquettishness and composure in her inimitable way. One can hardly imagine a better fit for this role than the actor who has always performed (often tenuous) self-control, holding on for dear life in “Birth” and “The Others,” using it to wound in “To Die For” and “Eyes Wide Shut” — before watching it slip away in “Babygirl” once Romy meets the man who sees through her corporate façade.
“You like to be told what to do,” new intern Samuel (Harris Dickinson) tells her. He plans to give the orders. As shaded by Halina Reijn’s screenplay, Samuel is neither predator — though he is the dom in this configuration, and its instigator — nor prey, though he is Romy’s unambiguous underling. Instead, he’s something of a sexual equal — a simpatico play partner tune with his own desires and often hers. He’s a sensor driven to action, flirtation and later confusion by the quiet beacon his boss sends out.
Soon enough, the pair wind up in a dingy hotel room for a paradoxical first encounter that offers the actors their finest moment while revealing the film’s greatest limitation. Romy and Samuel test one another with the exquisite tension common to all first-time lovers, pushing and prodding as they dip in and out of a BDSM scene in order to define and then cement the rules of their adult game. Both actors are equally game, letting down their defenses to give vulnerability and desire equal space in a most sultry negotiation for consent.
If anything, the film is almost generous to a fault, delivering scenes of sexual frisson that also strip down most narrative tension. The tawdriest aspect of their relationship stems from the professional imbalance, while the couple’s greatest transgression is against HR policy. That would hardly be a flaw were the film more willing to commit to a more scabrous position about the workplace — and to the ways that power is both won and maintained — or to a more ambiguous relationship between the two leads. Instead, “Babygirl” soft-pedals both, playing as light satire delivered without a hint of malice.
Despite a number of red herrings that hint at more narrative and thematically rich undercurrents, the film is best defined by its surprising lack of cynicism. Director Halina Reijn loves her characters too much to ever lead them astray or to ever pull at the thornier questions her own screenplay asks. Though Romy likens her compulsions to those of a gambler — putting her power and position on the line for a chance at fleeting pleasure — the overall film never evinces similar risk. Above all, “Babygirl” aims for comfort, lightly pinching and gnawing at social and sexual norms while whispering at all points that everything will be OK.
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