As a woman who has navigated the complexities of modern femininity for several decades now, I must say that “Babygirl” left me yearning for more depth and nuance in its portrayal of female sexuality. The film seems to be stuck in a time warp, focusing on white women’s sexual anxieties as they grapple with the shifting sands of societal expectations.

Warning: This piece involves description of Babygirl’s ending. Spoilers ahead.

The character Babygirl is framed by the climaxes of Romy Mathis, a well-known CEO of a tech company who leads a seemingly perfect life filled with wealth and tranquility. Beneath this polished exterior, however, lies a profound emptiness. Portrayed by Nicole Kidman, she is married to Jacob (Antonio Banderas), a devoted theater director who seems more attuned to her inner self than she is to his own. Her wardrobe mainly features shades of beige, gray, cream, and ochre. She resides in a lavish city apartment and a countryside home on lush grounds; although she appears to have abundant material possessions, there’s a noticeable absence of sexual and sensual contentment in her life.

In a somewhat lackluster and rehearsed manner, the first climax unfolds on screen, accompanied by Kidman’s character, Romy, who seems more dedicated to persuading Bandera’s character of her pleasure rather than genuinely experiencing it. Her actions, such as tossing her hair (or what appears to be a painfully stiff wig), the breathy tone of her voice, and her casual “I love you” in response to his “I love you,” all suggest an emotional detachment lurking between them, though Bandera’s character remains oblivious. Their relationship dynamics are evident: He takes the lead, while she suppresses her true desires, a pattern that has persisted over their 19-year union, of which we later discover she has never truly climaxed with him.

Romy doesn’t hesitate to leave her husband’s side and quickly move across her spartan living space, using her laptop in bed to watch porn and engage in self-pleasure on the floor. Her cries are intense and primal. This is reminiscent of the climactic moment in a movie where she truly experiences her final orgasm with her husband, a moment that comes after the truth about her deep desires – to be guided – has been gradually unveiled to him throughout the film. In “Babygirl”, the character of the girlboss is not condemned or even evaluated, but rather explored with keen curiosity.

Prior to the climactic moment, there’s a calculated gaze at a powerful middle-aged woman, who is white, as she takes risks with her marriage and family ties in a bid not to be reshaped by desire but rather exposed by it. This transformation comes about due to an unexpected influence, Samuel (portrayed by Harris Dickinson), a confident intern at her company, who initiates a BDSM-infused relationship. His manipulations and clear interest in her stir something within Romy. Let’s explore an initial conversation where she queries how he controlled a wild black dog running amok on a New York City street.

Samuel: I gave him a cookie.

Romy: You always have cookies on you?

Samuel: Yeah … why? Do you want one?

As a movie reviewer, I’d say that “Babygirl” is a captivating exploration of power dynamics, particularly in heterosexual relationships, and how these forces evolve within interpersonal connections. The filmmaker, Halina Reijn, has skillfully structured this movie, but it didn’t stir my emotions or ignite my passion as some classic erotic thrillers did. Instead, “Babygirl” leans more towards the cool, contemplative realm of women’s pictures – a genre that, if gender roles were less rigid, would have allowed for more explicit romantic entanglements.

As a film enthusiast, I must admit that the love scenes in this movie were skillfully executed, yet they never quite reached their full potential. The initial exchanges between Samuel and Romy, filled with playful awkwardness, beautifully captured the challenges of transforming raw desire into action – a portrayal that felt genuine. However, the passion seemed to lack intensity; even the sensual dance set against a George Michael tune failed to ignite passion. The film is meticulously crafted, delving deep into the complexities of modern sexuality with a sharp intellectual edge.

I’m referring to a type of sexuality characterized by transgressing boundaries, which challenges notions of consent and autonomy. This is a form of sexuality that doesn’t align well with societal expectations that women should be flawless and our lives should conform to mainstream liberal-feminist ideals. It’s the kind of sexuality that derives pleasure from fear associated with sexual experiences that disrupt the symbolic and practical order of a woman’s life. Babygirl, despite its artistic merit, offers an incomplete examination of how women are stripped of their sexual agency and learn to perceive themselves primarily through a man’s perspective. I truly feel that healing and self-discovery can stem from romantic relationships and passionate sex; however, you can’t cultivate self-love to break free from toxic relationship patterns on your own, and personal desire often emerges during sexual encounters with others. However, when the extreme sexuality of women in media is predominantly depicted along these lines, it becomes grating.

The impulse toward sexual submissiveness is understandable — it’s a position, I imagine, is more common, regardless of gender, in an era of information overload, when you have to make taxing decisions multiple times a day, and to be lifted of that responsibility is freeing. But I don’t want films to merely or even primarily reflect real life. Why can’t we culturally envision women’s sexuality within heterosexual relationships as one of asserting their own desires rather than being taught them? Are we still so deeply uncomfortable with watching a man dominated sexually by a woman, whereas women being dominated and brought low by their desires is more palatable? I’m not saying these experiences aren’t shared by women. I just question the fantasies women are repeatedly sold.

Specifically, Romy’s sexual relationship with Samuel is filled with confusing inconsistencies that reveal the script’s constraints. Initially, it seems liberating for Romy to be directed by Samuel and to be reduced to an animalistic state by her desires. Their relationship begins hesitantly. Samuel jokes when he orders her to kneel during their first sexual encounter in a tacky hotel. However, they eventually find a rhythm. They have sex in various places, including Romy’s office bathroom and more upscale hotels. He asks her to remove her underwear and spread her legs, and she complies. He summons her to lick milk from a dish like his private seductress. She obliges. They collide passionately, discarding limitations as if they were smoke. Yet, this relationship is also confining, as the cost of everything Romy has gained hangs precariously on each kiss, each touch.

The movie underscores the possibility that Romy could lose everything at any time through Samuel’s dialogue and a significant conversation with an influential older man in her company, who hints at knowing about her past with her intern. However, the threat doesn’t feel particularly intense or immediate. As the story progresses, the idea of Romy losing everything becomes more of a subtle undercurrent rather than a stark warning. The film seems to prioritize portraying Romy’s complex inner self over exploring her immoral actions. Despite repeatedly putting herself in risky situations, such as having sex with Samuel in her office bathroom or spending a night with him at an expensive hotel, the movie appears more interested in Romy’s character development than in delving deeply into her questionable behavior. Even though Romy’s character is only sketchily defined, Nicole Kidman’s acting ability and her past roles (similar to those in Eyes Wide Shut) give her character depth. We learn that Romy grew up in cults and communes, but this detail is mentioned casually and used primarily to explain why Romy perceives her ordinary desires as “dirty.” Initially, I thought Romy’s affair with Samuel was a path to self-discovery. However, by the end of the movie (and during my second viewing), it seemed more like a form of self-destruction. Romy appears to be emptying herself of her past, allowing Samuel to treat her as an empty vessel.

In a more relaxed phraseology, both Dickinson and Kidman give intense performances that delve into their characters’ vulnerabilities. Dickinson portrays his character with an enigmatic allure, hinting at the innocence of youth and the mystery of what lies ahead in adult life. His line deliveries are sharp yet inviting, with underlying emotions simmering beneath his words. However, Dickinson’s performance seems to hover between overt expression and a more nuanced portrayal of a complex, wounded young man.

As a devoted cinematic enthusiast, I must say, the climax of the film arrives in the last quarter-hour, when Esme, my beloved colleague, appears unannounced at Romy’s doorstep: “I see what’s been happening between you and Samuel.” It’s not a violent clash, but more of a minor snag. A brief disruption to the otherwise well-maintained tranquility of Romy’s carefully crafted life.

Eventually, Romy admits to Jacob that she had a brief affair with a stranger, but she’s not completely open about the situation with him or herself. She finds it hard to articulate her complex feelings and the motivations behind her actions, which almost led to the disruption of their household. Jacob becomes frustrated and asks her to leave their home. Later, Romy goes to her upstate residence, but one night she finds Samuel swimming in her pool. She questions if she has affected his thoughts, to which he replies, “Yes, I guess I’ve done that too. We both share the blame.

The reconnection that Esme warned would never happen finds its tenderness dashed by the sudden appearance of Jacob. First the viewer notices his shadowed form rooted in the doorway, then Romy does. Soon enough things get ugly. Jacob is rightfully pissed for being lied to two times over. Samuel and Jacob become a furious tangle of limbs, punches thrown, wounds tended with frozen vegetables. Jacob believes Romy “used and abused” Samuel, that her fantasies are not quite her own. “That’s a dated idea of sexuality. I’m sorry you don’t understand,” Samuel counters. Samuel could easily be deemed more progressive sexually, but he’s also someone who tells Romy, “You know I don’t want a girlfriend if that’s what you’re afraid of. Because you look like a mother and I’m not interested in that.”

In simpler terms, Jacob appears to have inconsistencies that should be apparent, given his role as a loving husband who hasn’t realized his wife has been faking her orgasms for nearly two decades. When Jacob doesn’t react after Romy apologizes in the city and at the theater, it feels more like a brief pause than the long-awaited release it should be. The final scene, where Romy becomes sexually open with Jacob while imagining Samuel with a black dog, seems fleeting. The lack of depth in characters beyond Kidman, as well as the vague setting, suggests that the men in women’s films, particularly husbands, are stereotypes used to explore themes about patriarchal control and the complexities of heterosexual relationships.

To create compelling erotic thrillers, the characters involved in key relationships should be fully fleshed out individuals rather than stereotypes. They should display intense emotions, making every action significant. The characters’ lives should provide biting insights into societal issues, but in “Babygirl,” this is not always achieved. Romy’s character is complex, but Jacob lacks depth and motivation, coming across as too idealized. This makes the film less about female sexuality in general and more about the anxieties of white women regarding their changing sexuality as they age. Although thought-provoking due to its exploration of interpersonal dynamics, “Babygirl” feels incomplete, even as a partial portrayal of women’s stories. I yearn for more radical portrayals of female sexuality that aren’t overly intellectual and do not focus solely on the negative aspects of their lead characters. I seek representations that envision women’s sexuality beyond the confines of abjection. If cinema is meant to depict diverse, vibrant worlds, why is there a lack of exploration into alternative expressions of women’s development in middle age?

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2024-12-26 17:54