REVIEW. BABYGIRL: Romy & Samuel's Erotic, if Clichéd, Rendez-Vous.

NOTE: There is a spoiler alert identified ahead.

I'm already imagining the memes. Nicole Kidman slurping milk from a dish, getting down on all fours and hungrily eating candy from her lover's hand. You get the idea. In this very serious, very deliberate, sometimes clinical examination of women's sexual fulfillment and the risks they'll take to find it, Dutch writer/director Halina Reijn doesn't break much new ground or develop new insights into long-debated notions about erotic pleasure, social mores and women's behavior, or sexual power and submission.

Haven't we seen enough movies about seemingly content women (successful job, handsome husband, happy children) whose domestic restlessness and desire to explore more erotic sexual adventures puts their idyllic lives at risk? Why do otherwise successful career women subject themselves to humiliation in order to climax? Haven't we exhausted attempts to show first-rate actresses even more "raw and exposed" in their art as they venture into uncharted erotic territory? Apparently not.

But why must all of these journeys include borderline cheesy kink?

When I was an undergraduate working on my senior honors thesis - an extended research essay on the existential feminism of French philosopher Simone de Beauvoir, no less - my advisor insisted I read Kate Millett's book (almost a decade old by then), Sexual Politics, a groundbreaking feminist treatise (1970) that inspired what became known as the "second-wave feminist movement" as it focused on patriarchal constructs and male dominance as portrayed in 20th century art and literature. Millett argued that men have established power over women, but only because of sexual/social convention, not because of biological inequities.

In particular, I remember well her analysis of authors like D.H. Lawrence, whom she took to task for suggesting that women were happier, more fulfilled when dominated by men, providing example after example of female characters finding sexual bliss when experiencing pain, physical abuse or humiliation.

Halina Reijn hints at some of these power-dominance issues in Babygirl, but she can't quite escape lapsing into clichés again and again. Her protagonist, Romy Mathis (Kidman), is a highly successful New York City corporate technocrat who seems to have it all: adoring theater-director husband Jacob (Antonio Banderas), two precocious, politically "woke" daughters (one of whom is has already come out, much to the delight of her parents), a gorgeous apartment, killer wardrobe and enormous collegial respect. She even has a name that connotes strength, fame and romance. She says her greatest achievement has been automating mundane tasks so that people have more time for personal pleasure.

What she can't get, though, is her own physical satisfaction, at least not from Jacob. As the movie opens, we watch as Romy and Jacob make love, after which he whispers, "I love you" and falls into a satisfied slumber - only we see a post-coital Romy slip away to another room and masterbate to porn she watches on her laptop. We're led to believe that poor Romy has been sexually frustrated and unfulfilled for almost two decades, but her sudden urge to realize this pent-up desire seems a bit jarring and unsettling.

Enter Samuel, (Harrison Dickenson), who Romy observes on her way to work when he subdues an unruly dog on the street. Shortly after, Romany learns he is a new intern at Romy's tech company whom he's chosen as his mentor. She inquires how he was able to control, the dog. He responds that he had a cookie in his pocket. "Do you want a cookie?" he whispers. "No." And with that she walk away. Not for long.

Their cat-and-mouse game (she objects to being his mentor, rejects his advances, then almost-too-quickly succumbs to his demands) plays out fairly conventionally, and soon we're watching Romy acquiesce to Samuel's every command. There's a bit of blackmail involved, too, as Samuel reminds her that, despite her position of power at work, he is the one with power as he could ruin her career and her idyllic family life with "one phone call."

Little by little, Samuel shows up at various work events and even at Romy's house, creating deeper unease and tension which, of course, fuels their erotic encounters. Though there's very little nudity in the film, Reijn uses lots of quick cuts and rapidly fired sexual episodes, along with very loud, heightened techno-music, to show the intensity of - and the danger in - their relationship as it builds over a very short period of time.

Though Reijn acknowledges her characters are educated (Romy's a Yale grad), sophisticated (Samuel seems mostly unphased by his and Romy's workplace affair), and cultured (Jacob is European), characters tend to spout clichés about relationships and behavior. Though Romy has been in therapy for years, she can't seem to get past the idea that something in her childhood must be driving her willingness to risk losing her career and family over a fleeting moment of gratification. Then, after a long monologue about her path to psychological self-discovery, she decides she must have been born to self-destruction and that nothing that has happened to her in life has triggered her obsession with Samuel.

SPOILER ALERT: Predictably, one thing leads to another: Jacob finds out about Romy's indiscretion (as do most people at work), anger ensues, and the rapid rush toward an acceptable ending ensues. In the final scene, we see Romy and Jacob making love again, only this time she is fantasizing about Samuel playing with a dog (he is clearly in control), and this mental image brings her to orgasm.

Has Romy found self-acceptance? Did she need to bring this near personal/professional catastrophe on herself in order to find this sexual release? Is she ashamed of her dark thoughts and reliance on pornography to achieve pleasure? Reijn doesn't say definitively, but Kidman's character exhibits behavior that suggests Romy's tendency toward self-destruction throughout the film is a necessary component in her redemption.

As I was leaving the theater, I ran into a colleague from work who was there with his wife. As I introduced my husband and we chatted briefly, we all agreed that this was a movie we had to think about a bit. I suppose that's a good thing. I've often said I'd rather watch an imperfect film that aspired to something more than crass commercialism and a big box office.

But I remain a bit ambivalent about Babygirl.

Back in 1986, there was a movie called Nine 1/2 Weeks, starring Mickey Rourke and Kim Basinger that got lambasted by many critics for its explicit S&M sequences that were called male-dominated, controlling and even misogynist, but I'm guessing it was the blatant exploration of sex without love or romance (and maybe the bondage?) that put some folks off.

Sixteen years later, Diane Lane and Richard Gere co-starred in Unfaithful, playing a long-married couple with a teenage son living quite comfortably in upscale West Chester Counter, NY. She heads into New York City once a month for charity work and, on one of her trips into the city, bumps into (literally) a charming European man named Paul (Olivier Martinez) and embarks on what will be a very dangerous erotic adventure. I saw Unfaithful with a female friend who remarked, as we left the theater, "She (Diane Lane) was married to Richard Gere, for fuck's sake. Wasn't that enough?" I remember smiling and replying, "Well, maybe not. Maybe even Richard Gere would became a tad predictable after 20 years."

There have been other films of this ilk over the years, including a previous one with Nicole Kidman and then-husband Tom Cruise: 1999's Eyes Wide Shut, director Stanley Kubrick's final film, and reportedly one he'd been jonesing to make for some time, about eroticism. Unfortunately, the film was anything but, as we follow a married couple (Nicole and Tom) after she admits she wants to have sex with another man. This revelation motivates him to spend a night attending one extended orgy filled with whips, chains, you name it. Dull. Two hours and thirty-nine-minutes of dull.

So here we are again, twenty-five years later and Kidman - still unfulfilled with her cinematic spouse - gives a performance is being touted as "raw" and revealing. Is that because the now 57-year-old Kidman is fearless in exposing Romy's vulnerability, her deep-seated anger and repressed desire? Kidman's never been a diva, so her performances have never struck me as vain or self-indulgent. She's been a risk taker since her major movie debut in the 1989 thriller, Dead Calm. And her performance here - filled with introspection that perhaps leads to self-acceptance - is definitely Oscar-worthy. I expect to see her on the short list for this year's nominations.

And then there is Halina Reijn who, like Emerald Fennell, is emerging as a powerful voice for 21st century feminism, challenging heterosexual norms and male-female politics, though - unlike Fennell - Reijn takes an almost clinical approach to the characters' by infusing dialogue with a lot of banal psycho-babble that sometimes undermines some of the important themes and messages she is attempting to convey. At least Fennell has a sense of humor, even if a morbidly diabolical one.

At one point, Romy tells her enterprising assistant Esme (Sophia Wilde) who knows about her affair with Samuel and who has also begun dating him, that she shouldn't confuse "morality with ambition." At first, Romy seems to distinguish her personal behavior from her professional success - an admirable attribute for a woman who is not afraid to have passions that may seem to run counter to conventionality. On the other hand, her treatment of Esme came across more like a man than a woman, so maybe I was expecting a different perspective from a female director.

I dunno. Babygirl certainly is provocative and daring as a film, though I found last year's Poor Things much more revealing and audacious (if more insanely odd) about its exploration of female sexuality. To be sure, the time-held discussion about women and men, power and submission, gratification and denial are topics worth infinite probing. Babygirl contributes to the dialogue, perhaps more with its analysis of self-destruction than self-indulgence, though I'm not sure how much or how significantly it has revealed anything revolutionary about women or utilized cinema in ways that shift the sexual molecules of our universe.

Babygirl is now playing in theaters.