One day, you’re an all-powerful CEO, star wife, and mother, and the next day you’re eating out of your young intern’s hand, quite literally. How is this contradiction possible, if it is a contradiction at all? The answer for both Nicole Kidman’s character in Halina Reijn’s film Babygirl and for many others who identify as BDSM submissives lies in the elusive concept of subspace: a metaphorical space and altered state one submits to during a kink scene, thanks to arousal and exchange of consent.
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The notion is very new to Romy Mathis (Kidman, whose performance won her the Volpi Cup for Best Actress at this year’s Venice Film Festival). She’s the sharply dressed big boss with her hair always pinned up, until she meets Samuel (Harris Dickinson): a much younger, cocky, and borderline rude intern wearing a suit twice his size, filling it with ego. Romy finds herself trembling when Samuel controls a stray dog about to jump on her in the street with a mere whistle and a nod. From this seemingly passing interaction, the flows of her desire steer the narrative into the unknown waters of ambivalent wants and surrender, as Romy and Samuel begin an affair based on the exploration of dominance and submission.
“Scene” and its double meaning
Nicole Kidman and Harris Dickinson in “Babygirl.”
Credit: A24
According to Lina Dune, kink educator and host of the Ask a Sub podcast, a Dominant/submissive (D/s) relationship affords “a ritual space,” where equal, consenting adults negotiate, establish boundaries and safe words, and create “a container where things can transform and alchemize.” The set-up is called a “scene” and within the kink scene, the submissive can experience subspace. In theatre, cinema, or kink, we associate the word “scene” with a curated experience and performance.
Speaking to Mashable, director Halina Reijn champions this dual meaning, adding that for her, Babygirl is about performing. “Of course, in a BDSM setting, there’s a lot of performing,” she says, “but sex in general can also be very performative.” As a result, this theme informed the script and conversations with Kidman, becoming an instrument to explore the character’s authentic self. “Romy thinks she has to perform the perfect mother, lover, wife, leader,” says Reijn, “and we are all a little bit like that — what we forget to do is be ourselves and accept whoever we are.”
But what makes Babygirl stand out is that it shows dominance and submission as a process of negotiation, trial and error, rather than a textbook example or a polished act. Babygirl’s kink scenes feel real and inviting because they lay bare the mechanisms in the inner workings of control exchange. In each scene, Samuel umms and ahhs, trails off, laughs in the middle of his commands, while Romy is shown to resist, back out, and change her mind. For the actors, this means an extra layer of performance that incorporates flippancy and respect for consent; for the viewer it means relatability.
Not every scene is a “scene” but subspace is a space
Credit: A24
Subspace is a term used within the D/s and BDSM communities, according to Dune, to talk about “the altered state that comes about through the experience of submission.” She insists that it is a wide category that encompasses individual experiences that may differ from one another, like that of intoxication or alcohol intake, for example. Scientifically, the state is a reaction to adrenaline, oxytocin, and endorphins rushing into the brain, but what does subspace feel like?
Dune explains that for some people it may be “a floaty, dreamy, quiet disconnected feeling,” while others might giggle or cry. “I like to refer to it as ‘getting high on your own supply,'” she says, “because you’re not on anything, but the experience of crossing over a taboo.”
Thinking of cinematic representations of liminal states — hallucinations (Enter the Void), drug-induced trips (Queer), or drunkenness (Another Round) — perhaps film is the most suitable medium to portray a subjective, heightened state of mind. The key is in the spatial metaphor: one “goes into” or “inhabits” a space. Unlike other films, Babygirl doesn’t rely on classical point-of-view shots showing a dizzy, spell-binding world seen through the protagonist’s eyes. Instead, the handheld work of Reijn’s long-time collaborator, cinematographer Jasper Wolf is more subtle.
Lights, camera, submission!
Credit: A24
Halfway through the film, Romy and Samuel decide to meet at a cheap hotel. No wonder, their affair belongs to clandestine spaces, the four walls of every office, bathroom stall, and hired bedroom swelling with desire. When it’s just the two of them, they can be free from the outside world’s demands. In that sequence, Romy storms out and comes back, Samuel wrestles her to the ground, and their power dynamics become a source of play: a scene begins. The camera sinks down with her, framing her face in a close-up, while Samuel becomes a blur in the background: where he touches her and how is not as important as Romy’s reactions.
Mashable After Dark
Discussing that part of the film, Wolf tells Mashable that the camera is like a third character in the room with them. Instead of story-boarding the shots, he would film long, single takes to capture the erotic flow of power exchange. The camera often remains still and fixed on Romy, letting the viewer accompany her throughout the cascade of emotions coloring her face with arousal: from surprise through shame to blissful release, we partake in her surrender.
“It’s like an honest and sometimes relentless gaze on what is going to happen between the two,” he says.
Coordinating subspace
Credit: A24
Why can’t words accurately describe subspace? “If we lived in a matriarchal utopia, perhaps we would have more words for it,” jokes Dune. But in today’s individualistic Western world, she points out that people “are expected to actualize themselves in a way that’s masculine-coded. Submission, in contrast, is understood to be very vulnerable which is more female-coded.”
In cinema, pop culture, or daily life, the derogatory stereotype for men in power who want to be dominated and/or humiliated is often presented as a point of humor. Admitting a submissive desire costs a lot: “I’ll receive at least one phone call per week from someone who says they want to be a sub, but stress on the fact that they are not submissive in their day-to-day life,” says Dune.
What’s novel about Babygirl is that not only does it show the characters’ vulnerability, but also how much they are willing to reveal to one another. In cinematographic terms, this exchange of consent is translated by panning movements linking Romy and Samuel’s faces as they look at each other. “Put simply,” says Wolf, “the camera is often a representation of her inner world: it becomes more free and fearless alongside Romy.”
On set, the cast and production team worked with intimacy coordinator Lizzy Talbot (No Hard Feelings, Dead Ringers) to ensure there were no surprises. Dickinson, who had previously worked with Talbot on the TV series A Murder at the End of the World, underscored the importance of clear communication. “If you approach [sex] scenes with too much trepidation and sensitivity, it can be anxiety inducing; you need an intimacy coordinator to be very direct and pragmatic about it,” he tells Mashable’s Anna Iovine. Reijn also brainstormed with Talbot when writing the intimacy scenes, saying that the work with a coordinator “goes much further than just being on set with her.”
Facing subspace
Credit: A24
Later in the film, there is a second hotel room scene, where Samuel “directs” Romy from across the lavish suite. He commands her to strip, tells her where to put her hands and how to pose. Even when both are naked, the camera doesn’t linger on the nudity of their bodies, but their faces. When sharing subspace, they see each other anew, and their newfound intimacy translates into the visuals. To channel the ebb and flow, Wolf used a mix of camera lenses, shifting between spherical and anamorphic. As for the visible effect, “it’s not in your face and it shouldn’t be,” he says, “but a slight change of perspective [makes you] suddenly see them with different eyes.” The game of letting your guard down plays out on their faces.
Unlike films like Steven Shainberg’s Secretary, which relates submissive kink to trauma, Babygirl succeeds in telegraphing to a wider audience the message that these are real people, and their desires — even when dangerous to their status quo — don’t have to be as destructive or severely punished. “The BDSM community,” says Dune in relation to Secretary, “wants to see more empowered people portrayed as submissive and break that stereotype.”
But she is optimistic: “I think we’re getting closer to better representation of BDSM on screen. Obviously, I would be a lot more excited about films that hire sex workers as consultants, but for example, a film like Sanctuary had less research done into the BDSM community, but what I saw on screen rang true to me.” Dune admits that she doesn’t expect education from cinema, or at least not the kind that sex and kink educators like herself offer, adding that “film should be about fantasy.”
By setting Babygirl’s subspace explorations against a corporate, hetero-mono-normative backdrop, Reijn also makes a political point. However ephemeral, subspace is a consent-bound altered state that resists categorization. Perhaps a way for some of us to survive the capitalist hell is to surrender — to desires or to films like Babygirl — and take Dune’s advice: “Let the film dominate you.”
Babygirl is now showing in cinemas.
