by Elisa Giudici
Nicole Kidman and Harris Dickinson in "Babygirl" (Credit: Niko Tavernise)
I believe that many of the negative reactions about Nicole Kidman's newest film Babygirl stem from a genuine misunderstanding. Personally, I find the polarizing erotic drama to be one of the most successful films in competition, as long as one understands and accepts where it stands and what it's aiming for...
Babygirl explores power dynamics, sadomasochism, and the consensual exchange of power and control but it does this within the confines of contemporary commercial and mainstream American cinema. Those who criticize it for being restrained and lacking courage are overlooking the extent to which eroticism has vanished from the (American) cinematic landscape. If the Dutch director Halina Reijn had intended to push the boundaries of what is permissible in bedroom scenes on the big screen, she wouldn't have chosen this framework or this cast.
On the contrary, Babygirl has a clear mission to normalize and demystify some basic, relatively harmless practices within the realm of sadomasochism. Comparisons to Fifty Shades of Grey—a common critique—reveal how little familiarity there is with these practices and how much the discourse around them remains clouded by stereotypes and preconceived notions.
The real distance between Babygirl and Fifty Shades of Grey—aside from the fact that it's operating on much higher level—lies in the core premise and in who holds the power and indulges in sadomasochistic fantasies. In Fifty Shades, Christian Grey is a wealthy, handsome man whose enjoyment of extreme practices is tied to a backstory of trauma, specifically his fraught relationship with his mother. In Babygirl, Nicole Kidman plays an powerful and accomplished CEO who meets Harris Dickinson, a younger intern with an uncanny ability to tap into her fantasies. But unlike Christian Grey’s sadistic tendencies, Kidman’s character desires submission. She wants to relinquish control, to obey, to become the "good girl" or "faithful dog" to her master. Babygirl very deliberately clarifies that her desire is not born from trauma but intrinsic to her nature. That distinction removes the stigma, suggesting that power dynamics can exist outside the typical narratives of past pain or dysfunction.
At the heart of Babygirl, there is not a destructive or dark perversion, but rather a deeply human need for self-discovery and the reshaping of relationships. Nicole Kidman’s character finds herself transformed by her submissive desires, ultimately achieving a more authentic understanding of her own needs and a renewed connection with her family. Halina Reijn’s writing cleverly subverts the audience’s pessimistic expectations. Instead of leading to a predictable downfall or retribution, the film offers unexpected moments of insight, like a beautifully staged montage exploring boundaries set to George Michael's Father Figure. One standout moment comes when Kidman’s character, in establishing a safe word for her power exchange with Harris Dickinson, chooses “Jacob”—the name of her husband. This layered choice speaks volumes about the complexity of her desires and relationships.
That said, considering the content of Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut thirty years ago which also famously starred Kidman, it’s hard not to feel a tinge of disappointment that Babygirl pulls its punches, despite the visual nods to Kubrick’s work. The melancholic, ever-lit trees and blue lights behind curtains clearly reference Eyes Wide Shut, and while Babygirl deftly navigates its subject matter, it does remain cautious in a way that reflects the current cinematic landscape’s reluctance to fully embrace eroticism. The boundaries of what was once "acceptable" for mainstream, auteur-driven cinema with box office stars have indeed shifted.