The Fashion of Submission: Inside ‘Babygirl’s’ Twisted Power Dynamics
In the glittering realm of haute cinema, where boundaries blur like a smoky eye at midnight, Nicole Kidman delivers her most provocative performance yet in A24’s latest psychological thriller, “Babygirl.” Trading her signature Céline power suits for something far more vulnerable, Kidman embodies Romy Mathis, a tech mogul whose carefully curated life unravels with the precision of a Valentino couture seam.
The film, directed by indie darling Halina Reijn (fresh from her Gen-Z satire “Bodies Bodies Bodies”), dress-codes corporate femininity in fifty shades of grey-area morality. Kidman’s Romy, draped in what our fashion desk confirms is a parade of The Row and Jil Sander, presents an almost satirical vision of “having it all” – the corner office, the picture-perfect family, and yes, that puzzlingly domestic apron moment that feels like Balenciaga meets Betty Crocker.
But beneath the glossy veneer of success (and that impeccable Augustinus Bader-blessed skin), Romy harbors desires that would make even Tom Ford blush. Enter Samuel (Harris Dickinson, serving understated Brit-boy realness), an intern whose presence ignites a powder keg of power dynamics and repressed sexuality. Their chemistry combusts in a scene set to George Michael’s “Father Figure” that’s destined to join the fashion-meets-film hall of fame alongside Sharon Stone’s interrogation scene – though this time, it’s Dickinson doing the seducing.
The wardrobing tells its own story: Romy’s transformation from boardroom dominatrix to voluntary submissive is tracked through subtle sartorial shifts. Her Louboutin stilettos (those iconic red soles a delicious metaphor for hidden desires) give way to bare feet; structured blazers melt into soft silks. It’s “Secretary” meets “Industry,” styled by someone who understands that power dressing in 2024 is about more than shoulder pads.
Antonio Banderas, as Romy’s husband Jacob, provides a masterclass in luxurious masculinity, all Tom Ford suits and casual dominance. But it’s Kidman who owns every frame, her porcelain composure cracking like a dropped Hermès teacup. In one particularly charged scene, she sprints naked through her Upper East Side apartment – a moment that feels less “Eyes Wide Shut” and more like a fashion editorial come to life, raw and unretouched.
“Babygirl” isn’t just pushing boundaries; it’s wearing them like last season’s trends – with knowing awareness and zero apologies. It’s a film that understands that true power, like true style, lies in the authenticity of self-expression, even when that self wants to kneel in submission while wearing vintage Dior.
