This story contains heavy spoilers for Babygirl. There’s a scene mid-way through Babygirl where Nicole Kidman’s character, Romy, seemingly reaches orgasm with a partner for the first time. The mother-of-two and high-powered exec lies face-down on the tacky carpet of a downtown motel room, her clothes tangled around her body; it’s her intern Samuel (Harris Dickinson) who has his hand up her skirt. When she allows herself to relax, finally giving herself over to the pleasure, she unleashes a guttural yell.
The moment feels unprecedented. Much of Babygirl does. Because save for select feminist films (consider The Piano, Benedetta) and TV series (Girls, Sex Education), we’ve become accustomed to seeing heterosexual women on screen climax within moments of being intimate. That is, if it’s depicted at all. The male gaze tends to prioritize men’s satisfaction, or what Babygirl writer/director Halina Reijn describes as the “orgasm gap.” But often when we do see it in women, it’s like a formula: passionate kissing, a couple of thrusts, and the woman lets out a dainty gasp of satisfaction.
Romy’s pleasure in Babygirl, however, is carnal. It’s not concerned with being seen as what society may deem as “pretty” or “feminine,” and feels far more realistic than previous depictions we’ve being exposed to. Romy's entirely uninhibited (so much so that Kidman got exhausted filming orgasm scenes). But that’s only part of why the new A24 erotic drama, about an affair between a CEO and her intern, at least 20 years her junior, feels so groundbreaking and sexy. The eroticism of the motel scene, and many of Romy and Samuel’s encounters, lies in how honestly Babygirl depicts a woman pursuing what she wants for the first time (even if that means risking her picture-perfect life in the process).
Romy has everything she could ever want in Babygirl in a way that feels tongue-in-cheek; she’s the well-respected businesswoman, married to a doting husband (played by Antonio Banderas), the mother to two talented, headstrong daughters, with a penthouse in Manhattan and quintessential home in Connecticut. She can even afford to make time for high-end wellness treatments. But what she wants in the most intimate moments, she can’t get—mainly an orgasm with her husband Jacob who is reluctant to try anything new in the bedroom.
In the film’s opening scene, after Jacob finishes and goes to sleep, Romy sneaks off to a room down the hall to watch porn and touch herself in private. It's something we can tell has become commonplace in her routine. The position she’s in and the sound she makes as she climaxes parallels what she experiences with Samuel later on—a culmination of her desire that’s been repressed (for potentially her entire adult life).
But Romy and Samuel’s affair is by no means out of the romance novel or even classic erotic thriller playbook. They don’t simply realize their attraction, rush into each other’s arms, and start making out behind closed doors. The pair don’t even know where to put their hands on each other at first. How they discover and consent to the roles they hope to fulfill for each other is unique to the film—and immensely hot.
When the two first connect in the office, Samuel weasels his way into Romy’s orbit by bolding requesting she be his mentor. In what’s supposed to be an informational interview, he crosses a line by telling Romy that he suspects she likes being told what to do, seeing a side of her few others seem to have noticed and daring to engage with it. He continues to push boundaries, toying with their corporate power imbalance, like sending her a glass of milk at a bar and whispering, “Good girl,” in her ear when she gulps it down like any perfect baby girl would.
So when he requests she meet him at a motel, their S&M dynamic seems somewhat obvious, except it’s not at all. Samuel tells Romy to get on her knees, to which she’s aghast, leading him to laugh and sheepishly admit that he doesn’t know what she wants. It’s hysterical, uncomfortable, oddly heartwarming, and wildly erotic all at once because, with one awkward interaction, Reijn demonstrates that these two individuals are unsure of how to fulfill Romy’s fantasy but willing to explore that together. By the end of their encounter, she climaxes like she hasn’t before.
Many of their subsequent encounters also include missteps and fumbling on both parts. When they meet in a conference room early on, Samuel’s domineering tone comes off as too self-serious and corny. Once, after having sex, they dance together like friends at a sleepover in their plush hotel room robes—with Samuel performing an awkward striptease to none other than George Michael’s “Father Figure.”
It also feels notable that Babygirl finds sex appeal in submission. When the trailer dropped, many viewers first reactions expressed disappointment that Dickinson did not play the titular baby girl, or assumed that they’d seen this kind of movie about an age-gap relationship or heterosexual S&M dynamics before. But as Reijn reveals, that’s far from the truth. It’s not at all about Samuel getting off in commanding Romy; in fact, he never once orgasms on screen and his reactions are largely kept out of frame. This is entirely about Romy. There’s a raw vulnerability in how she wants someone else to take control for once and how she’s empowered by accepting that and also by being the partner who ultimately has the final say in doing what she’s told.
Of course other films, from teen raunch comedies like Yes, God, Yes to coming-of-age movies like Diary of a Teenage Girl and LGBTQ+ dramas like Disobedience or Portrait of a Lady on Fire, have explored similar themes, especially in recent years. But Babygirl feels like the start of the next great chapter for erotic dramas in its openness to center a story on a woman, over 40, not shying from the messy and humorous parts of sex, while also being so damn honest about how brave it can be to fall in love with every side of yourself and your desires.
When Romy first sees Samuel, he calms a stranger’s unruly dog on the street. She’s momentarily frightened but impressed with his composure and power over the animal. Later, in the film’s final moments, Reijn incorporates flashes of the black German Sheppard into the motel room scene where the two had their first physical encounter. Pacing back and forth where Samuel stood in his black hoodie and chain, in some ways, it’s as if they’re one and the same. But it’s also as if the dog represents Romy, having unleashed something inside herself and tamed the beast all the same. “Good girl” is right.
