Kink shaming is at the heart of Babygirl, the sexy, funny, and unapologetically weird film from Halina Reijn (Bodies Bodies Bodies).
If you’re not familiar with the phrase, it’s a Gen Z invention that argues that if two adults want to engage in all sorts of freaky-deaky behavior, let them! Role playing, handcuffs, leather. Whatever you’re into is cool as long as it’s consensual. Don’t kink shame, bro!
It’s important that this concept is a product of the TikTok generation because in Babygirl, Romy (Nicole Kidman), the imposing owner of an international shipping company, essentially kink shames herself. She is married to the lovely, and frankly hot, Jacob (Antonio Banderas), who is a director of Broadway plays. The film starts with the two of them having what seems to be tender, mutually satisfying sex. But not so fast. After they are done, Romy retreats to a private room where she masturbates to an S&M video. This is clearly a ritual for her. She gets off on being humiliated, dominated. At one point, she attempts to express this desire to Jacob by asking if he can cover her face with a pillow when they’re having sex. He can’t do it. “I feel like a villain,” he sighs. He’s a generous, completely evolved man—exactly what she doesn’t want in a lover.
Enter the hot new intern Samuel (Harris Dickinson) who isn’t some S&M authority, like Christian Grey. He’s more of an extreme empath, who naturally intuits what other people want. He’s also a card-carrying member of the “Don’t kink shame, bro” generation.
So Samuel almost instantly figures out that Romy wants to be dominated. He’s attracted to her, wants to be with her, but also wants to please her—it’s in his nature.
So he starts ordering her around. At first, she balks: This is highly inappropriate. She’s the big boss, he’s a lowly intern. But, of course, she’s turned on, too. At an office party, he sends her a glass of milk, and watches her keenly from the bar, smirking. She hesitates and then drinks it down in one gulp, much to the astonishment of onlookers. “Good girl,” he whispers to her at the end of the party.
They commence an affair, with Samuel continuing to boss her around. The film makes it clear—this is not some anti-feminist fantasy where Samuel needs to cut the powerful Romy down to size. This is about him getting off on getting her off.
Both actors are wonderful here—Dickinson toggles between cocky den master and sheepish pupil. A few times he giggles because the scenarios are so ridiculous, but he’s trying here! As for Kidman, she has become one of our most fearless actresses. Maybe this was me beauty shaming (did I do that right?) but I used to think she had a coldness about her, an aloofness that made her unrelatable. How wrong I was. She fully commits here, allowing us to see the rawness of Romy’s desire and her shame. In fact, that cold exterior—perfect for her CEO character—makes her vulnerability, the overwhelming intensity of her desires that much more moving.
The funny thing about Babygirl is that, despite its taboo subject, it’s actually a very sweet film. Samuel is sweet. Jacob is almost painfully sweet. Romy’s two teenage daughters are good to her—even the ostensibly rebellious one. Now can we all stop kink shaming and get along?