
“Power isn't always about control, sometimes it's about knowing exactly when to kneel.”
Babygirl
Babygirl (2022) navigates the tangled web of power, desire, and control between a high-powered CEO and her much younger intern. Directed by Halina Reijn, the film attempts to unpack the complexities of dominance and submission within a corporate setting, blending erotic tension with emotional vulnerability, though sometimes the balance tips into awkward territory.
Plot Summary
A high-powered CEO (Nichole Kidman) steps into a BDSM whirlwind with her cocky young dominant intern (Harris Dickinson). Think boardroom politics meets bedroom power plays, with a few stumbles in the power exchange along the way
First Impressions
For a film that opens with an orgasm, ends with an orgasm, and features the mid-point revelation, “I’ve never had an orgasm with you,” plus several orgasmic-sounding interludes (a step up, at least, from Rita Ora’s cameo in Fifty Shades Freed), you’d expect something truly climactic.
Yet somehow, it all feels like one orgasm too many, or worse, the kind that drags on, leaves you sore, and makes you question why you bothered in the first place.
Perhaps the opening scene says it best: getting off to laptop porn, only to miss the moment entirely and climax to an ad for kitchen grout, an accidental metaphor that sums up the entire film.
Themes & Power Dynamics
The film flirts with the delicious chaos of power inversion, young vs. old, dominant vs. submissive, control vs. confusion. But sometimes it feels like it’s still figuring out whether it wants to be The Secretary, or a corporate training video.
BabyGirl is primarily about power, the inversion and extrusion of it, as Samuel puts it: “It’s all about giving and taking power.” Polarities are everywhere.
At its core, Babygirl delves into the intricate dance of dominance, submission, power and control, not just in the bedroom, but within the broader context of societal roles. Romy's journey challenges traditional notions of female empowerment, suggesting that true strength can also be found in vulnerability and surrender. The film also touches on the taboo of age-gap relationships, flipping the script by placing an older woman in a position of both authority and desire.
Cinematic Style
Close-ups so intense you can practically smell the anxiety. Moody, muted colours that say, “Yes, this is serious kink... or maybe just serious confusion.” Somewhere between Eyes Wide Shut and Netflix original drama nobody talks about.
Director Halina Reijn creates a sleek visual world, balancing the cool precision of glass-walled boardrooms with the moody intimacy of Romy and Samuel’s private encounters. There’s a surprising sensuality woven into even the most clinical spaces, making desire feel both exposed and contained.
Best & Worst Scenes
Best scene: When Samuel walks into the same meeting room where they first met and declares, “You’ve got seven minutes,” while NK sits nervously waiting, an almost exact reversal of their earlier encounter.
Worst Scene: The sudden sanitising toward the end of the affair, where they abruptly introduce an irrelevant safe word. This move dilutes the power dynamic. Worse still, using her husband’s name as the safe word feels sadistically cruel on multiple levels. If you really wanted to kill the mood, why not just go with “Second Mortgage”, “Wifi password" or “Shared Location” and be done with it?
Performance and Direction
NK is a quiet storm, controlled, layered, and compelling, capturing the conflict between control and surrender with grace. Harris brings a calm confidence to his role as the arrogant young Dom, though he’s about as threatening as a scented candle, not quite enough to inspire me to crawl across the floor spitting sweets into his palm… or drink a pint of milk. Champagne, however? Now we’re talking.
The direction holds its own, if occasionally overworked, tripping on its own metaphors like a sub overthinking their safe word. Also, can someone please explain the symbolic weight of the dead skunk? Anyone?
Spoiler Alert Ahead
Babygirl ultimately felt more like BabyMeh, a film so devoid of heat that I often found myself fantasising, not about submission or domination, but when to preheat the oven for my part-baked baguettes.
What kept me vaguely alert wasn’t the on-screen action but the audience. A chorus of middle-aged women gasped when NK crawled on all fours to retrieve a sweet from her dominant lover’s hand. “Oh no, she won’t!!!” someone exclaimed, followed by a gaggle of chatter outside the cinema: Would my husband ever do that to me, or FOR me?
The film’s premise, power from below, the humiliation of a high-functioning CEO submitting to a young intern is promising. It plays with a potent inversion: a mature woman with status and control in every sphere handing the reins to someone with far less life experience. That could have been electric. But the dynamic feels thin, partly because the male lead lacks the maturity or gravity to make the reversal believable. Perhaps that’s the point, but it’s a point made again and again, until it’s diluted. An older character might have brought more edge, more realism. There’s only so far pure humiliation can carry a narrative without deeper stakes.
NK is more compelling. She plays a woman trying to excel in all domains, office, home, apron included, only to be met with her husband’s blank incomprehension: “Why do you wear that thing? It’s weird.” It’s a quiet devastation, someone trying to express herself only to be told she’s unreadable.
The power exchange itself feels strangely performative, less an erotic engine, more like a patchy nod to a friend’s unsolicited advice. Still, some scenes hit. Shame, guilt, the wrench of emotional exposure, they surface, briefly, thanks to NK’s nuanced performance.
There are good ideas here. The film gestures toward the unspoken, the misread, the unlived. The juxtaposition of family life and the affair, “We have a dynamic, a thing, something no one else understands”, hints at the real emotional texture of such relationships. It’s messy, lonely, and impossible to name. Here, it’s not love. It’s not an affair. It’s not kink in the classic sense. It’s a rupture. It consumes everything. Two worlds colliding, as INXS put it, the kind of collision that leaves something permanent in its wake. But where does it belong?
As with all good dramas, the question lingers: Do we want a happy ending? And if so, what would that look like? Who are we rooting for? The kindly husband, whose only failing is lacking a “dom bone”? The young, arrogant, but sincere Dom still finding his footing? Or NK herself, a successful, loving woman seeking her authentic self?
Interestingly, the only truly villainous character, cloaked as “good,” is NK’s assistant, Esme. Yet her subplot feels oddly out of place. Esme wields “female power” like a blunt instrument to advance her career, betraying the very empowerment she claims to uphold. She orchestrates the downfall of her boss’s affair with her boyfriend, an act steeped in moralistic disgust but blind to the complexities of power. Submission, after all, springs from strength, not weakness. While Esme’s own power seems rooted in insecurity and a deep-seated sense of helplessness, yet another power inversion.
"I don’t want a girlfriend. You look like a mother.” ~ Samuel (Because nothing screams “seduction” like a backhanded compliment)
Pros and Cons
Pros:
Nicole Kidman delivers a quiet storm of layered complexity and raw vulnerability.
A refreshingly messy take on power dynamics that refuses easy answers.
Emotion seeps through the kink scenes, making desire feel messy, urgent, and real.
Visuals that mix sterile corporate coldness with intimate shadows, sexy and unsettling.
Moments of genuine emotional discomfort that linger long after the credits roll.
A dream come true for fans of secretary or corporate roleplay fantasies.
Cons:
Pacing drags like a sub stuck in endless edging, frustrating and exhausting.
Some plot turns feel as awkward as an ill-timed safe word, jarring and out of place.
The sudden introduction of a safe word (especially using her husband’s name) is a cringeworthy misstep.
The young Dom’s threat level is about as intimidating as a scented candle.
Esme’s subplot feels like a distracting side quest nobody asked for.
Several secondary characters exist in a fog of vague motivation and missed opportunities.
Reel Rating
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/10 Tepid & Tenuous
Solid ideas and performances, but the pacing, uneven plot, and missed potential hold it back.
Kink Rating
💋💋💋💋💋 5/10 Performative & Patchy
It flirts with some intriguing power dynamics but feels safe and surface-level, with moments that might make experienced kinksters cringe.
Final Verdict
🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎 10/ 20 Missed & Meandering
Despite a stellar performance from Kidman early on, Babygirl promises a spicy power play but ends up more lukewarm than incendiary, perfect if you like your kink like your bedtime tea: weak, a bit disappointing, and guaranteed to send you straight to sleep.
It’s a promising dive into submission and control within a corporate setting, but weighed down by pacing issues and an underdeveloped lead Dom. Worth a watch for those curious about kink and power, but don’t expect to be blown away.
A Film For
Girly nights out filled with wine, gossip, and a dash of kinky curiosity.
Quiet nights in when you want something sexy but low-key, great for cosying up in your comfiest pyjamas.
Conversations that wander into the messy, tangled world of power and desire.
Fans of slow-burn dramas who appreciate kink served with psychological depth.
A Film Not For
Those looking for high-octane thrills or a deep dive into hardcore D/s.
Party nights that demand fast-paced, plot-heavy entertainment.
Viewers who want their romance light, fluffy, and safe from awkward silences.
Anyone expecting explicit, edge-of-your-seat kink intensity.
The Gilded Crop Award goes to: Nichole Kidman
For her fearless portrayal of Romy, bringing nuance, vulnerability, and quiet intensity to a role that demanded both emotional and erotic intelligence.
The Broken Paddle Award goes to: The Esme Subplot
The Esme subplot. Romy’s assistant gets her own half-baked storyline that feels tonally off and narratively unnecessary. It’s like someone tried to wedge Succession into a kink film, distracting, underdeveloped, and oddly smug. Esme promotes feminism like it’s a networking tool, wielding empowerment as a weapon, only to reveal her own power stems more from insecurity than principle.
Did You Know?
Milk, Milk, Milk: Nicole Kidman reportedly downed 16 glasses of milk during the infamous bar scene. Lactose tolerance? Impressive. Method acting? Legendary
Office Space: The sleek corporate scenes were shot in A24’s actual offices. So yes, someone’s real desk witnessed all that power play.
The INXS Factor: Director Halina Reijn struggled to secure the rights to INXS’s “Never Tear Us Apart” until Kidman stepped in and personally clinched the deal in just a few days.
Award-Winning Performance: Nicole Kidman won the Volpi Cup for Best Actress at the Venice Film Festival for her role in Babygirl
Related Films or Recommendations
Eyes Wide Shut (1999)
Secretary (2002)
Unfaithful (2002)
The Last Word
An alternate ending theory: Since the film opens and closes with an orgasm, and bookends those moments with scenes involving a dog, it’s tempting to wonder if that dog was trained from the start to approach NK, giving Samuel a perfect excuse to “rescue” her and insert himself into her world. Given we see him training the same dog at the end, maybe he orchestrated the whole scheme with his girlfriend Esme to help her climb the corporate and erotic ladder.
It’s a bold, if slightly over-the-top, twist on power in all its messy, sexual, political, and gendered forms. One step too far? Maybe. But definitely an intriguing angle.
Fancy Another Watch?
If you’re curious for more kink-laced critiques or cinematic deep dives, head over to The Film Vault, your curated corner for the dark, the daring, and the downright delicious.
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