‘Babygirl’ Explores the Horrors of the Internal Monster
Halina Reijn’s Babygirl seems to defy classification. Often billed as an erotic thriller, it’s a stylish yet straightforward drama about control and female sexuality. But for those suffering from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) like myself, the film may feel like outright horror. I watched Babygirl with a pit in my stomach, feeling like someone had exposed my darkest secret. On the surface, Reijn is exploring the dangers of high-risk behavior, illicit sex, and forbidden desire. But lurking within is a harrowing examination of intrusive thoughts and the constant fear that the world will find out. Romy (Nicole Kidman) engages in an affair with a much younger intern in part because of carnal attraction, but she’s also driven by sheer exhaustion from a lifetime of believing that these thoughts make her a bad person.
Romy Mathis is a tech entrepreneur on the brink of announcing an exciting new project. She’s the mother of two bright teenage girls and lives in a luxury apartment with her handsome husband, Jacob (Antonio Banderas). On the outside, she appears to have it all. But behind the scenes, Romy is suffering. She’s unable to climax during sex and struggles to project the perfect blend of tough yet vulnerable female leader. When Samuel (Harris Dickinson), a handsome new intern, makes a bold pass, Romy begins an illicit affair that threatens to destroy her life. She turns away from her daily responsibilities to indulge in a series of increasingly careless interludes where she’s dominated, humiliated, and told what to do. But this reckless behavior begins to spiral out of control, leaving Romy’s life teetering on the brink of annihilation.
Though she projects the perfect outward image, we meet Romy in the midst of deception. Babygirl begins as she fakes an orgasm, then tiptoes down the hall to masturbate while watching demeaning and violent pornography. She bites into her hand as she climaxes, trying to muffle what she probably considers unladylike moans, but this could be a compulsive act designed to alleviate the stress of her violent desire. It’s a side of herself she keeps closely hidden from even her most trusted partner. This solitary orgasm is the only place Romy can lose control, and even then, it’s stifled by fear.
Despite this salacious introduction, it’s not until late in Babygirl that a conversation with Jacob reveals the secret horror driving her affair. Romy begins confessing her infidelity by admitting that ever since she was a little girl, she’s had dark thoughts that make her feel incredible shame. She doesn’t give specifics, but we can infer that she’s talking about threatening sexual scenarios like the kind of violent porn she uses to masturbate. She’s spent her life trying to suppress these thoughts and describes them as a monster living in her brain. She doesn’t mention Samuel at all and downplays the strength of their connection. While it’s likely she’s lying to soften the blow, this cuts to the heart of her actual motive. The affair has been a way to alleviate the fear caused by these destructive fantasies and silence the voice claiming they make her a monster.
Damning Obsession
But rather than craving pain and humiliation, Romy likely has undiagnosed OCD. Her life revolves around elaborate order, and she’s built her career on optimizing time to maintain a perfectly regulated life. It’s a classic—and not unhealthy—manifestation of the mental disorder, which presents as intrusive thoughts followed by compulsions designed to relieve the discomfort they create. But Romy also seems to suffer from sexual OCD, characterized by disturbing thoughts of an erotic nature. While some experience unwanted ideas about incest or sex with an inappropriate partner, Romy’s are violent and dangerous, revolving around submission and humiliation. While many enjoy exploring the world of kink and find healthy sexual gratification in being dominated, these thoughts fill Romy with dread and shame. They do not align with her core values, and she would do anything to make them go away.
Most of Romy’s carefully curated life can be seen as a series of elaborate compulsions created to combat these and other intrusive thoughts of inferiority. Through determination and hard work, she’s risen to the top of a highly competitive field. While admirable, her position comes with incredible pressure. She’s constantly called an anomaly and an inspiration to those below her on the corporate ladder. If she fails, she will not only let feminism down, but signal to the world that women are not capable of high-powered leadership.
In addition to this ever-present stress compounded by a new project launch, Romy also exists in a changing world with evolving expectations for feminine power. A PR expert challenges her lifelong vow to “look up, smile, and never show your weakness,” by taking issue with that final word. “Weakness” is no longer considered a liability, but a strength that signals relatability. On top of everything else, Romy must now expose her sensitive vulnerabilities to avoid appearing cruel or unapproachable.
While understandable, this new expectation challenges Romy’s carefully constructed persona. If she lets her walls down even a little bit, the world may discover her most closely-held secret: she finds sexual gratification in scenarios that demean women. How can she be a feminist leader if she indulges in violent porn? Not only would the revelation of her private fantasies become a career-ending scandal, it would open the door to damning questions. Does Romy herself want to be exploited? Do these fantasies prove that she hates other women? Has her quest for leadership all been a lie? And perhaps the most disastrous of all, will this prove to the world that she’s a monster? These questions spiral in Romy’s brain and convince her that she deserves punishment, sparking a series of destructive behaviors ultimately designed to destroy her life.
Destructive Compulsion
I didn’t know I was having intrusive thoughts until they went away. For years, I would wake up every morning picturing an image of graphic self-harm. The thoughts intensified with stress, and I began to believe I was suicidal. Fortunately, therapy and medication led to a diagnosis of OCD, and I realized this vision was an intrusive thought and not a genuine desire to cause myself harm. The image began to lose its power while shedding new light on a shameful secret I’d carried for most of my life. Since I was a child, I’ve had thoughts similar to the ones Romy describes. I won’t elaborate here, but their often shocking and violent nature convinced me that I was unworthy of love. Trying to talk about it with other people caused my shame to skyrocket. The constant fear of exposure led to codependency and addiction.
I began drinking to block them out and to silence the ever-present fear of discovery. I would have nightmares about loved ones finding out, and I began to compulsively destroy my romantic relationships. To me, if I allowed anyone to get too close, they would eventually see the awful person I believed myself to be. Each action I took to try to make the thoughts go away just created more proof that I was unlovable. I knew I was digging myself further and further into a hole, but I could see no way of crawling out. And my recklessness in some ways felt better than the inevitable revelation and ruin I knew was always just moments away. After all, if my life was going to fall apart, at least I would have ownership of the destruction.
In Babygirl, Romy follows a similar path when she begins her high-risk affair. Before officially meeting Samuel, she watches him tame an angry dog on the street outside of her office. The animal advances, snarling at Romy in probably the first time in years that she’s felt the thrill of losing control. The soothing calm she experiences when Samuel brings the dog to heel is the first step towards a cycle of self-destruction, but it’s not until he names her fear that Romy feels compelled to act.
In an awkward mentorship meeting, Samuel boldly guesses that she likes being told what to do. The sheer panic of being exposed causes Romy to get up and flee the room, but Samuel stops her by blocking the door. They share a consensual kiss before Romy pushes her way into the hall. She’s horrified by what she’s done, but also amazed at Samuel’s reaction. He’s uncovered her most disgraceful secret and still finds her attractive and worthy of love.
Walking Toward Fear
After a lifetime of creating emotional walls, Romy finally experiences the relief of letting go. In a seedy hotel, Samuel puts her through a series of demeaning acts like standing with her face to the corner, crawling on all fours across the room, and eating candy from his outstretched hand. Next, he manually brings her to the first genuine climax she’s had with another person in years. Samuel witnesses the moans she usually tries to suppress, and again, he does not turn away. In fact, he seems to understand and holds her while she’s wracked with sobs.
Even her husband has refused to pleasure her in this way, claiming that her vulnerable request makes him feel uncomfortable. This rejection has created a wedge between them and greatly exacerbated her feelings of shame. But Samuel not only refuses to judge, he seems to share the thoughts she’s always kept to herself. He doesn’t treat her like a bad person, and the relief of his acceptance takes over her life.
While validating in some ways, Romy still indulges in self-destruction, another facet of these intrusive thoughts. Both she and Samuel seem driven by the fear of getting caught and become increasingly bold with each new interlude. She assures Samuel that she’s not using him to tear apart her carefully constructed life, but we’re not sure we can believe this claim. Romy practically dares her assistant Esme (Sophie Wilde) to uncover the affair, then confesses unprompted to Jacob. The thrill of this illicit romance pales in comparison to the reality of losing everything. So she begins trying to make repairs. Samuel takes a job overseas, and she finally gives Esme the promotion she deserves. Jacob eventually forgives her, too, and she moves back into her family home.
In a speech designed to empower women, Esme describes the value of walking towards our fears and the strengths we find along the way. With her own darkest fear exposed, Romy has no choice but to carry on and is surprised to find herself not shunned, but surrounded by people who offer support. Though disappointed, Esme does not want to take her down. Instead, she forces Romy to act as a feminist leader. Romy is still projecting an outward image of perfection, but she’s no longer afraid of the truth coming out. When a male executive tries to leverage knowledge of the affair for sexual favors, Romy stands her ground, even alluding to a desire for humiliation. A taste of acceptance has shown her that these thoughts are not proof of her inadequacy, but simply an element of her life.
We leave Romy where we first met her, in bed with her husband—but this time she is not pretending. No longer balking at her unconventional requests, he brings her to a genuine orgasm. Through similar experimentation, I learned that I do not actually like indulging in my intrusive thoughts and found it easier to let them pass out of my head. It’s too early to know if Romy will make a similar discovery, but she’s found the safety to explore with a trusted partner. And more importantly, she’s no longer driven by the constant dread of disclosure and shame. She may fantasize about Samuel in the seedy hotel, but she doesn’t take these thoughts as proof of her monstrosity. There may still be a monster living in her head, but it does not get to decide who she will be.
Categorized:Editorials
