The Orgasm Scene with Nicole Kidman in ‘Babygirl’ Challenges Traditional Portrayals of Female Pleasure

The first thing you see when you watch Babygirl—which is now available to buy on digital platforms—is Nicole Kidman faking an orgasm.

Anyone who’s seen a female character climax on TV before will be familiar with this particular song and dance. Kidman gyrates her body in slow, sensual movements. She throws her head back, with breathy, dainty moans. She thrusts her chest forward to accentuate her breasts. And she is, of course, on top. How else could the audience enjoy the show?

It’s a convincing enough performance for Kidman’s on-screen husband, Jacob, played Antonio Banderas. And it’s no doubt also convincing to viewers who have come to accept the artificial but ubiquitous Hollywood norm of performative female pleasure in media. But after the curtain falls—complete with a little shiver of aftershocks from Kidman, a nice touch—we stay with Kidman’s character, Romy. We follow her into another room of the house, where she cues up some porn. Then she gets herself off, for real, this time. And we realize it was all a lie.

That’s why it’s so brilliant that, the next time that we see Romy having sex—this time with Harris Dickinson, a twenty-something intern at Romy’s company who shares Romy’s interest in dominance and submission—it’s the complete opposite of the opening scene.

Writer/director Halina Reijn (also known for 2022’s Bodies Bodies Bodies) keeps the camera on Kidman’s face as she lies prone on a dirty hotel carpet. There’s no nudity at all. You see only Kidman’s shocked, pained, and borderline panicked expressions as Dickinson fingers her. At one point, Kidman cries out that she feels like she’s going to pee her pants. That’s not the kind of thing you say when you’re performing for the male gaze!

When Romy finishes, she comes with a raw, animalistic howl. It couldn’t be further from the breathy, feminine noises she faked for her husband. It’s not really sexy at all. But it’s real. Through the juxtaposition of this hotel room floor sex scene with the film’s opening shot, Reijn has cleverly flipped the script on the male gaze.

Female pleasure is rarely as dainty, cutesy, and attractive as it’s depicted on screen. Pleasure isn’t always pretty. Pleasure is sweaty, gross, embarrassing, and primal. Kidman might be performing for the screen, but Romy isn’t performing for anyone.