Babygirl

First Of All Happy New Year To All Of You Guys!!

I was genuinely torn about whether to write about this. But to prepare future viewers—and because there are things that need to be said, as well as a few the movie actually says well—I decided to go for it.

It truly took effort to make an erotic thriller about the number one sexual fantasy for both men and women—an age-gap relationship, in this case between a boss and her much younger employee—BORING!

While the script wisely focuses on exploring female sexuality and the psychological consequences of Nicole Kidman’s extramarital affair with her younger subordinate rather than just their physical intimacy (thankfully, given the kinks involved, there weren’t many sex scenes), the problem is this: instead of showing us the psychological dynamics of both characters, they just talk about them! The lead couple spends more time psychoanalyzing each other in endless exposition than "getting to know" each other in the biblical sense (thankfully, fewer sex scenes, but still—talk about going from one extreme to the other). TWO HOURS OF TALKING! GIVE ME A BREAK!

In short, while the script’s exploration of female sexuality—especially through a 50-year-old wife and mother—is both intriguing and radical, the execution falters. Rather than exclusively showing these ideas, the film overexplains them in its dialogue. The performances, however, are solid, with Nicole Kidman stealing the show. As for Antonio Banderas in the role of the husband? Laughable. Mostly due to the writing and direction. The peak of absurdity is the revelation scene (not really a spoiler—love triangles follow a set formula, and the betrayed spouse always finds out).

That scene is so outrageous—both in what happens and in the lines the script forces the two rivals to exchange—that I’d consider it less absurd if either of these two things happened instead: (1) A shocking plot twist where cuckolded Banderas turns out to have kinks of his own (hey, he’s a director, so why not?) and suggests a consensual threesome; or (2) The film fully embraces its thriller potential, and he seeks revenge by violently dominating both. To clarify, I don’t mean I wanted to see either scenario, just that they’d be less ridiculous than what actually transpired.

Also, given that the film directly references Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler (making some accurate parallels with Kidman, though I think A Doll’s House’s Nora might have fit better), you’d expect a similarly dramatic ending—perhaps with a family secret revealed. Instead, we get an entirely conventional finale. Really, what’s the point of invoking Ibsen if you’re not going to use his weighty themes? It’s baffling that a female writer-director in 2024 delivers a more conservative, less feminist ending than Ibsen, a man, did nearly two centuries ago!

Finally, I have to mention something from a Greek critic’s review that left me speechless. He essentially expressed disbelief that Kidman’s character, married to Antonio Banderas, doesn’t orgasm during sex with him, instead watching porn alone afterward to get there. So…what? Because she’s married to a man as attractive as Banderas, she’s supposed to have orgasms automatically? Seriously? Is pleasure solely about looks now? The film, to its credit, explains this perfectly. Just compare Banderas with the lover: the young guy touches the real female G-spot—her vanity—by showering her with compliments (a foreign concept to her husband). Plus, Banderas refuses to indulge her fantasies despite her asking. And most importantly, honesty is absent from both sides in the marriage—arguably the film’s key theme, not submission.

As a commentary on female sexuality, the script deserves an A+. It fearlessly tackles taboos, much like that recent National Theater production that caused such an uproar. But for everything else? Mixed results.