By Peg Aloi

Babygirl comes off as a rather lascivious take-down of yet another older woman who has everything she wants except … sexual excitement.

Babygirl, written and directed by Halina Reijn. Screening at Somerville Theatre, Kendall Square Cinema, Coolidge Corner Theatre, and other movie houses around New England.

Harris Dickinson and Nicole Kidman in Babygirl. Photo: Niko Tavernise / A24

Nuanced portrayals of older woman-younger man relationships in the movies are few and far between. Released in 1967, The Graduate inspired a new idiom in American culture: an older woman pursuing a younger man was referred to as a “Mrs. Robinson” (after Anne Bancroft’s character who seduces an inexperienced Dustin Hoffman). In 1971, Summer of ’42 based on Herman Raucher’s semi-autobiographical novel explores a young man’s sexual awakening and infatuation with an older woman whose husband is stationed overseas during the war. As time goes by and sexual norms evolve, changing notions of consent and power dynamics have shaped cinematic love stories, especially when age gaps are key. Different cultural mores also apply (French cinema, for example, often presents infidelity as a fairly commonplace and even forgivable offense).

Normally these relationships are painted as illicit. The young man is not intimidated by propriety, while the woman is afraid to be discovered for fear of being judged. (This formulation is generally not the case in films when older men pursue younger women, which are more often than not dark coming-of-age tales, like 2023’s The Starling Girl, or 2015’s The Diary of a Teenage Girl). The woman is usually of a higher social class than her younger lover: we see this in 2003’s Young Adam and 2009’s I Am Love (both films, interestingly, starred Tilda Swinton). Sometimes this class trope is flipped, as in 1990’s White Palace. Here widowed Yuppie James Spader’s busy, orderly life is upended when he has an affair with a freewheeling, working-class woman (Susan Sarandon) who is 20 years older.

These days, large age gaps in sexual relationships spark accusations of predatory behavior, even more so when the woman is the older partner. Even if the relationship is consensual, and the young man is the one who initiates it, the older woman is still portrayed as the aggressor. Sometimes these accusations are justified, as in May December, Todd Haynes’s fictionalized version of the infamous Mary Kay Letourneau case, a schoolteacher whose sexual relationship with a 13-year-old student resulted in her going to prison. Or Notes from a Scandal, in which a happily married schoolteacher (Cate Blanchett) is drawn into a sexual liaison with a student. In the Netflix film The Idea of You, Anne Hathaway is a divorced, well-adjusted, successful art dealer whose love affair with a 24-year-old pop star (Nicholas Galitzine) makes her a target for tabloid and social media harassment. In Catherine Breillat’s Last Summer (2023), a successful lawyer begins a sexual relationship with her rebellious teenage stepson.

In many cases, these entanglements result in the older woman experiencing public condemnation, a dramatic fall from grace, and/or a breakdown in her family life. The only example I know of in which this kind of relationship is accepted by others is actress Gloria Grahame’s love affair with a younger actor in Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool (2017). Now comes Babygirl, an intriguing film that explores this dynamic by way of a sexually charged (if rather tame) dominance and submission relationship between a high-powered executive and her intern. It’s being touted as an “erotic thriller,” but writer-director Halina Reijn (Bodies Bodies Bodies) has crafted something complex and timely in a way that goes beyond genre labels.

The film opens with Romy (Nicole Kidman, perhaps the busiest actress in Hollywood) having sex with her husband Jacob (Antonio Banderas). After (apparently) achieving a satisfying climax, she leaves the room and engages in some self-stimulation while surreptitiously viewing porn on a laptop computer. The film’s first few minutes depict Romy’s social position: a confident CEO of a company with chic offices in Manhattan. We see her luxurious family life, living with her beautiful teenage daughters in a huge house outside the city. She is impeccably dressed in tasteful clothes and we see her exercising, getting Botox injections, and taking expert care of herself. Here is a woman who seems to have it all, yet she seeks something more: sexual adventure

Enter Samuel (Harris Dickinson, whose career has exploded since his breakout role in 2022’s Palme D’Or winner Triangle of Sadness), a handsome young intern who, in their initial interview, senses Romy might be vulnerable to his charms. He lands the job and immediately begins to pursue her, albeit subtly. He’s a skilled manipulator, dropping hints and playing games, including one memorable scene where he orders a tall glass of milk delivered to her table in a restaurant and watches as she drinks it down while staring at him. He then murmurs “good girl” as he walks by her table, a dehumanizing tactic offered as praise, like an owner to his dog. Samuel is an arrogant seducer, despite his performative social naiveté. But Romy is attracted, and soon enough their torrid affair satisfies her need for power games that provide sexual bliss. But, when Samuel starts to invade her personal life, Romy realizes that she’s not in control, and regrets her recklessness.

The performances are excellent, the dialogue engaging enough, the plot trajectory twisty and suspenseful: okay, yeah, erotic thriller. But I was disappointed in a story that comes off as a rather lascivious take-down of yet another older woman who has everything she wants except … sexual excitement. Really, is that the one element of life post-50 women are most terrified of living without? Botox and Pilates scenes in the beginning underline a common trope in the “older woman” film: when women of a certain age are no longer fuckable, they’ve lost their value (check out The Substance). I found myself thinking of a somewhat recent French film with a similar plot line: a beautiful 50 year-old woman stares at herself in a mirror, asking aloud “Am I still fuckable?” She, too, jettisons her stable life for a casual, steamy affair.

Sex in these scenarios serves as an antidote to aging and death, two realities the wealthy and comfortable can’t pay their way out of. (The truth is, folks of all ages just want to make sure they’re not living on the street or losing their healthcare, but I digress.) It is odd that the narrative doesn’t bother to explore why Romy isn’t more adept at getting what she wants and needs from her own husband. Apparently their seemingly happy marriage wasn’t stable enough for her to address this problem — or is this level of self-examination too bourgeois, too pedestrian? Anyway, Romy decides to risk it all for a thrill ride with an untrustworthy young man. Bad choices make for good drama, no question about it. But hear me out. Why can’t we have a film where a middle-aged woman has a sexual crisis that she resolves in ways that are healthy and fulfilling? But then we wouldn’t have an erotic thriller, where a woman at the top of her game has to degrade herself to feel complete.

Peg Aloi is a former film critic for the Boston Phoenix and member of the Boston Society of Film Critics, the Critics Choice Awards, and the Alliance for Women Film Journalists. She taught film studies in Boston for over a decade. She has written on film, TV, and culture for web publications like Time, Vice, Polygon, Bustle, Dread Central, Mic, Orlando Weekly, Refinery29, and Bloody Disgusting. Her blog “The Witching Hour” can be found on substack.