“Have you seen Babygirl?” Any time anything remotely kinky is released in the media, that’s the question a Domme will get ad infinitum. Next question: “Did you like it?” Short answer: Yes, I found it entertaining. Long answer: I have criticisms.

My main critique of Babygirl is not the lack of communication and consent in the D/s (Dominance/submission) dynamic between Romy, played by our Queen Nicole Kidman or Samuel, played by the smoldering Harris Dickinson. You’d think that would be the bone a Domme has to pick with a mainstream film where a female CEO is brought to her knees like a dog by her young male intern. (No, I found that scene to be quite milquetoast.)

Nor do I take issue with the chemistry between the leads. Babygirl sizzles. It’s hot. We can feel it from the moment Romy and Samuel meet on the street. Nary a heterosexual woman leaves the theatre not wanting Samuel to trap her in an empty office or give her a drunken little “Father Figure” dance.

While Babygirl tantalizes with its velvety sensuality and palpable chemistry, it ultimately reduces the D/s relationship to a mere backdrop for a forbidden affair, lacking the depth and authenticity that the subject matter demands. This is especially so considering its predecessors in film–9 ½ Weeks and Sanctuary, which put power exchange front and center rather than as an afterthought to adultery.

Babgirl’s vibrant cinematography (that brilliantly filmed, heart-pounding rave scene!) and the kinetic connection between the leads create an erotic aesthetic. However, beneath this glossy exterior lies a narrative that conflates the thrill of an extramarital affair with the fulfillment of a genuine D/s relationship. Romy's engagement in submissive acts appears reluctant and performative, her bratty demeanor suggesting a lack of real compulsion towards kink. This portrayal misses the opportunity to delve into the deeply satisfying psychological and emotional facets of D/s dynamics, instead opting for a superficial treatment that conflates attraction with submission.

Babygirl plays the middle, pandering to mainstream female audiences not unlike E.L. James did with “Fifty Shades of Gray.” Sure, writer/director Halina Reijn added those few bits of dialogue where Samuel seeks Romy’s consent, but otherwise these two never discuss what their dynamic could be, the psychological depths to which they could go, and that’s partly because of the infidelity on Romy’s side. Had they the space to really fantasize about D/s and make known their desires, this movie could have been even hotter. Ultimately, Samuel gets off on his power over his boss and Romy gets caught up in the “wrongness” of her entanglement with a man not her husband.

Romy is dissatisfied with her marital sex life. Her sweet husband can’t make her come and she doesn’t have the heart to tell him. This narrative choice reinforces a simplistic dichotomy: the older, ineffectual husband versus the virile, sexually adept younger man. Such a portrayal not only undermines the potential for a nuanced exploration of D/s relationships but also perpetuates tired stereotypes about age and sexual prowess.

More importantly, Babygirl exaggerates the pleasure Romy experiences from the power exchange. Rather, it’s obvious that she climaxes from the pleasure Samuel gives her as a strong and intuitive service top. The film suggests that her desire is driven more by submission itself than by Samuel’s skill and attentiveness as a lover and I’m not buying it. This is more a story about the monotony of monogamy than a story about D/s. And that's fine. It just seems that the D/s element was used to hook viewers rather than to explore how sumptuous a power exchange can be beyond the sexual and into the psychological.

Case in point: Romy’s first orgasm with a man, perhaps in decades. Samuel first brings her to climax by fingering her from behind on the floor. Slow clap for a man who is essentially just a good service top. Yes, we like that. He cares about her sexual pleasure, however, that’s simply not D/s. And I’m not saying service topping and D/s don’t go hand in hand but they are certainly not synonymous. Samuel is just a better lover than Romy’s husband. And maybe she’s getting off on the May-December age gap. But the D/s often feels like an unnecessary marketing gimmick.

In contrast, the brilliant film Sanctuary delves into the intricate, sometimes toxic dynamics of a D/s relationship, focusing on the psychological interplay between a Dominatrix and her sub. The film confines its narrative to a claustrophobic setting, intensifying the emotional and mental exchanges that define their connection. This approach allows for a deep dive into the characters' psyches, presenting a raw exploration of the vulnerabilities and power shifts inherent in such relationships. A film like Sanctuary demonstrates just how deep power exchange can go, and (spoiler alert), it can drill down into the soul's depth when contemplated and communicated, whereas Babygirl stays at the surface of kink and portrays only what we call pick-up play–it’s spontaneous, mostly lacking forethought and negotiation.

And spontaneous play is perfectly fine. A film that explores the fucked-up things newbies do is welcome. I wrote a whole novel called Domme & Dommer about what messy beginner Domination looks like from the viewpoint of my character Stella, who has just escaped a Christian cult. She fucks up left and right. Flawed characters are interesting and so Samuel’s lack of experience and prowess as a Dom is fine. If only Babygirl would give us a bit of backstory on him though! What are his real motivations? What is his origin story? Why Romy? Why now? Why milk?

9½ Weeks, directed by Adrian Lyne and released in 1986, also delves into the complexities of an impromptu D/s dynamic between its protagonists, Elizabeth (Kim Basinger) and John (Mickey Rourke). The film portrays their intense entanglement, marked by a series of erotic encounters that blur the lines between control and abuse. But again, it doesn’t use infidelity as a backdrop, allowing for a more focused examination of the thrilling and sometimes toxic nature of power exchange.

While films exploring D/s and BDSM themes need not strive for perfection—acknowledging that human experiences are inherently flawed and messy—there is a distinct difference between embracing imperfection and delivering a shallow narrative. Babygirl errs on the side of the latter, offering a sanitized and surface-level depiction that fails to engage with the profound psychological and emotional currents that define D/s relationships. In doing so, it squanders the opportunity to contribute meaningfully to the discourse on kink and human sexuality, opting instead for a conflation of affair-driven excitement with the healing, transformative potential of consensual power exchange.

Still, I am glad to see films like Babygirl and Anora garnering mainstream praise from critics and audiences alike. They spark conversations about kink, D/s, power exchange, and sex work–all themes explored in my novel, Domme & Dommer You just wait for the Domme & Dommer TV series, fellow kinksters, where there’s more than milk and puppies to bring you to your knees…

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