Every now and then a glossy erotic thriller shows up and pretends to be scandalous. Baby Girl is doing something a bit trickier. On the surface it is the story of Romy, a powerful New York CEO (Nicole Kidman), who begins an affair with her much younger intern Samuel (Harris Dickinson) while still married to Jacob (Antonio Banderas).
Underneath that surface the film is pulling apart the way women’s bodies are normally filmed, then quietly pointing the camera back at the young man who thought he would be the viewer, not the viewed. It is sleek, it is uncomfortable, and it is very aware of how people look at each other.
Setting Up a Gaze We Recognize
The first act looks like a classic setup. Older boss. Younger employee. Office chemistry that is not exactly professional. Early scenes give us Romy through the usual lenses of desire. She wears money. She moves like she owns the building. Even in private moments she is styled for impact. Viewers are trained to read a woman like that as the object.
The one being watched. The film wants you to fall into that old pattern so it can show you how flimsy it is. As soon as Samuel enters, the camera begins to study him instead. It lingers on his posture, on how he reacts to being wanted, how he performs dominance for someone who has already out-earned him, outlived him, and outpowered him. That slow shift is the film’s first little joke. You thought we were here to look at her. She is actually the one looking.
The Intern Who Thinks He Is In Charge
One of the neatest touches is how Samuel walks into this affair like a man who believes movies have already told him how this works. He will be desired and have the upper hand because he is younger. He will cash in on someone else’s secrecy. Except the film keeps showing him through Romy’s eyes.
She is the one assessing his rawness, his body, his reactions. He can try to act like the one in control but the camera never quite agrees. The title starts to feel like a dare. Who is the babygirl here. Is it the older woman who wants to feel wanted, or the young man whose prettiness is being turned into currency. The film seems to answer that the name fits whoever is being framed. Right now, that is him.
Turning The Gaze Inside Out
For decades the male gaze in film has treated women as images for pleasure. Baby Girl flips the equation by letting a woman look at a man in the same shameless way, but it also goes further. It shows what that gaze does to her. Romy is not some cool predator. She is messy, lonely and hungry for affirmation.
When she is looking at Samuel she is really trying to see herself as young, as wanted, as still central. That is the heart of the title. The mirror is not in the camera. It is in her eyes. She is watching this man to see if he will tell her she is still the main character. The effect is both empowering and sad. Power gives her access. It does not make her immune to longing.
What the Film Says About Age and Desirability
A lot of thrillers want older women to be punished for wanting sex. This one refuses. Romy’s choices have consequences because they cross professional and marital lines, not because a woman over fifty was attracted to someone. Industry chatter in late 2024 and early 2025 kept pointing to how viewers responded to Kidman’s performance.
It was fearless, but it was also specific. She never plays Romy as embarrassed by her body. She plays her as curious about whether it can still cause chaos. That curiosity is a kind of revenge on years of movies that asked actresses to fade quietly.
The Husband and the Daughter Are Not Background
Casting Antonio Banderas as Jacob is clever because he is still charismatic. He is not some bland man she needs to escape. Which means the affair is not about upgrading. It is about being seen in a different register. The scenes with Jacob show a couple that works, in a way, and that makes Romy more human. She is risking something substantial, not climbing out of misery.
Her relationship with her daughter (Esther McGregor) brings in another angle. If your mother can look at a young man like that, is she still the stable figure you grew up with. The movie likes that discomfort. It keeps asking how far female desire is allowed to go before people call it inappropriate.
Why it Matters Right Now
We are in a wave of stories about workplace power, blurred boundaries, and who is using whom. What makes Baby Girl stand out is that it is not scolding women for wanting. It is showing how desire, status, and image-making get tangled when the person in charge is finally the one doing the looking.
The film is sleek and a little outrageous, sure, but it also understands something simple. Women watch men too, and build whole inner movies about how they will be received. Putting that on screen with a camera that is not accusing anyone of hysteria feels fresh.
By the time the credits roll, the heat of the affair is less interesting than the questions it raised. What happens when a woman refuses to be the framed object and frames someone else instead. What happens when the younger body is the one being dressed, lit, and admired. Baby Girl suggests that everyone involved becomes a little more honest and a little more exposed. Which is the point. Desire always tells on us. This time it told on the men who thought the camera would never swing their way.
Rachel Sikkema is a New Zealand-based writer and creative entrepreneur who explores the intersection of film, culture, and modern relationships. Through her articles, she examines how stories shape the way we connect, love and see ourselves. When she’s not writing about film and television, she’s watching Dexter and The White Lotus for the third time.