While this piece won’t outright spoil anything, those wanting to go in blindly to Halina Reijn’s latest film, Babygirl, may want to consider bookmarking and returning upon seeing how the film concludes.
There’s a particular sequence in Babygirl that had me nearly levitating out of my seat. This may come off as a bit biased having been born and raised in Queens, New York. But it’s also a scene that visually speaks to everything that Reijn and cinematographer Jasper Wolf are attempting to convey with their latest collaboration. It arrives around the third act of the film. By this point in the film, tech CEO Romy Mathis (Nicole Kidman) and new intern Samuel (Harris Dickinson) have been embroiled in their scandalous relationship for some time. Where Reijn frames their relationship around such clear power dynamics at the beginning of the film is not where she seems to want these characters to end up. Over the course of this affair, we see how easily this power dynamic can shift in either direction. Reijn also seems interested in examining whether or not it’s even possible to have the scales perfectly balanced. And that examination appears to come to a head when Romy finds herself in a late-night cab to Queens.
Having shared most of their time in Romy’s private office bathroom or hotels around the city, Samuel lets his boss and lover know he wants to meet in his own space, on his own terms. Appearing to be fully wrapped around Samuel’s finger, Romy does so without hesitation. We’re treated to a gorgeous shot of the Manhattan skyline as Romy makes her way somewhere deep into Queens. It’s a view I’m incredibly familiar with, having taken many rides across the Queensboro Bridge. With the famed Silvercup Studios sign beckoning her into a whole different world of New York, Reijn and Wolf show us what’s being left behind. While Romy leaves a message for her husband detailing her need to work late, there’s an extended shot in the crystal-clear focus of Manhattan slowly receding. Midtown still absolutely swallows the frame the farther away she gets, but it being in such stark view of the congested Queensboro Plaza ahead of here represents the world Romy has come to know inside and out. And this trip, while only over a bridge into another borough, is unlike anything she’s ever done before. And the scene that immediately follows is as polar of an opposite as one could imagine.
Manhattan is unquestionably an insane place to exist. There’s a chaotic presence at its very foundation that makes it such a special place to live. Anybody in it, one way or the other, cherishes it in their own special way. And yet, with the image of it seen in this moment of Babygirl, it feels oddly serene. While this may be the city that never sleeps, if you look for it during the right time of night, you can sometimes be treated to an ominous sight or sound: nothingness. On those empty streets that feel more akin to something out of a dream or an apocalyptic horror film, those quiet pockets existing in such a vast landscape known for its hustle and bustle feel surreal. With the camera sitting in the back of Romy’s car trunk, that feeling is captured perfectly. To then see how Wolf and Reijn transform this serenity into madness is brilliant.
Romy finds herself pulling up to an unmarked warehouse. She enters through a garage and is treated to complete discombobulation. The volume of the film is cranked way up, and we’re in the middle of an intense underground rave. Amidst a sea of people writhing up against one another, the strobe lights only allow us to see every other frame in a manner of speaking. Romy has descended into uncharted territory. And yet, there’s a palpable excitement to it all. Wolf and Reijn capture this sequence not with fright, but with tantalizing pleasure. Romy’s attempt to find Samuel may appear to be in vain at first, but again, the razor-sharp focus of Babygirl is utilized to complete effect. Despite the disorientation, the two lock eyes from across the room and begin making their way to one another. From there, it’s off to the races. The filmmakers, through extensive reliance on making sure most scenes with Romy and Samuel intertwined in the lives of one another are as visually focused as possible, show the possibility of something much deeper occurring than a torrid and hollow affair. This is made all the more clear in how Reijn and Wolf capture some key scenes between Romy and her husband, Jacob (Antonio Banderas).
From the very opening of Babygirl, I was taken by the visual language of the film. It opens at the tail end of a sex scene between Romy and Jacob. There are so many ways to shoot a scene like this. In the hands of an exploitative or lesser filmmaker, it would merely be a scene depicting sex. Yet Reijn and Wolf imbue their opening sequence with such clarity, or lack thereof for that matter, that it completely defines the visual language of the film. It’s the sign of a great pairing between director and cinematographer. Before we even know the context of anything at all, purely off visuals alone, we are clued into some ideas about what is going on in the minds of the filmmakers. This married couple, despite being mere centimeters from one another, are barely sharing the same space within the frame. Instead, the two remain deeply out of focus from one another. Upon lying down beside each other, it’s only then that we see the two share the same space… but it’s upside down. As the two say “I love you” simultaneously, the image almost preemptively becomes right side up. And that crystal-clear focus then begins to feel more like a stark, devastating reality settling in. Of course, it helps to have Kidman delivering a top-notch performance full of complexity. But it’s all there in Reijn and Wolf’s imagery from the outset.
This idea of being isolated from one another despite sharing the same space is again made prevalent when the couple are discussing some plans in the kitchen. Despite sitting a few feet from one another, Reijn and Wolf capture this in a traditional two-shot set-up. Shot over the shoulders of one another, only a fraction of these life partners can be seen in frame. And they’re so deeply out of focus, so lost in their own world of professional going-ons that neither is remotely present in the life of the other. It’s akin to merely passing by a semi-familiar face in a hallway. Pleasantries are exchanged, and plans are shared, but no connections are highlighted, nor is the other person seen or heard for who or what they are. While they may have been happy at some point, the use of such deep out-of-focus imagery paired with isolating each individual primarily in the frame highlights a complete loss of connection. When compared to many of the scenes Romy and Samuel share, both are enveloped in one another in complete focus and intense close-ups. For a film that revels in the emotional intricacies and complex nuance of its central relationship as any great erotic thriller does, Reijn and Wolf’s choice to frame such a dense involvement riddled with drama and tension in complete focus is brilliant. It’s as if we see all we need to know right on the surface. There’s obviously much more going on in the subtext of any of Romy or Samuel’s actions, and Reijn and Wolf encourage such scrutiny in how they capture their film.
And if all this were not indicative enough of Reijn and Wolf’s vision, one of the final shots of Babygirl (without spoiling anything) depicts a timelapse of Manhattan. Shrouded in a complete fog, the subject quickly breaks through for something more revealing: a golden sun illuminating the real nature of the city in which this film takes place. A city full of office spaces, where floor-length spotless windows reveal an endless maze of reflections and watchful eyes. If everything is all out in the open for the public to see, is it possible to have any shred of privacy or space to come to terms with our inner selves? Is it possible in such an environment to find peace and accept one’s own desires and inner selves? How you interpret the ending will be left in the hands of the viewer, but the images present during the finale of Babygirl are captured as clearly as ever by Reijn and Wolf. In these complexities and juxtapositions is where this film thrives, and lucky for us, so much of it operates in that hazy gray area.
