Tag Archives: Halina Reijn

Good Girl

Babygirl

by Hope Madden

It seems impossible not to compare writer/director Halina Reijn’s Babygirl with Steven Shainberg’s 2002 indie treasure Secretary (based on Mary Gaitskill’s brilliant short story). Reijn’s tale is almost a perfect inversion.

Secretary saw a relative newcomer (Maggie Gyllenhaal) deliver a revelatory turn as an absolute nobody actively seeking domination, finding it in a chilly CEO (James Spader), and slowly, wickedly, hilariously discovering ways to take control of the situation so she could pressure him to control her.

Fast forward more than two decades and Babygirl completely reframes the same tale of one woman who really wants somebody else to be in charge for a change.

Nicole Kidman—a veteran whose craft is beyond reproach—plays Romy, a tech company’s CEO. Romy has a perfect life that includes a saucy relationship with her hot husband (Antonio Banderas), little notes left in the lunches she packs her two kids each morning, and an incredibly successful company.

And all seems almost well until an absolute nobody—an intern (Harris Dickinson)—senses something in Romy and acts on it. Soon this woman who is in control of everything she surveys risks all for a little humiliation and discipline.

Though Reijn’s film benefits from sly humor, it’s far from the dark comedy of Secretary. Babygirl hones closer to thriller, building tension, keeping the pace charged, and breathlessly suggesting our protagonist’s ruin behind every unlocked door.

Kidman is characteristically amazing. She is a risk taker as an actor, and what she does with this character is fascinating. The outer shell is different, person to person, interaction to interaction, but the humanity lurking beneath is never far from the surface.

Her chemistry with Dickinson is electric but not exactly sexual. Babygirl complicates gender politics and sexuality and shame, specifically as each is loosely defined across generations. It’s an observant script and a film a bit less interested in titillation than in human drama.

Reijn’s entire ensemble is unafraid to be unlikeable, which is necessary when ambition, jealousy, insecurity, sex and shame commingle. This is a tight script, perhaps too tidy and structurally familiar because its most satisfying moments are its messiest. But it is a fascinating and fresh look at something we’ve been conditioned to turn away from.

Let Them Hit the Floor

Bodies Bodies Bodies

by Hope Madden & George Wolf

In a way, we’ve seen Bodies Bodies Bodies before. A group of good-looking, rich young people gathers in a remote home to imbibe and play stupid games that turn deadly. Think April Fool’s Day, Truth or Dare, Ouija.

A24’s latest horror film isn’t a straight reimagining or a satire of the sub-subgenre. It’s barely a part of the subgenre. Instead, B3 delivers an insider’s skewering of the sociology of a generation.

The result never condescends or patronizes. Not that it’s kind.

Director Halina Reijn’s clever (if slight) film roots its comedy and horror in Gen Z culture. Sophie (Amandla Stenberg, who also produces) brings her new girlfriend Bee (Maria Bakalova, Oscar nominee from Borat 2) to a rich buddy’s mansion for a hurricane party.

That buddy (Pete Davidson) and the rest of Sophie’s inner circle didn’t really expect her to show up, let alone bring a plus-one. And Bee’s more than a little out of her element with this group of spoiled rich kids.

When the weather finally hits, they decide to play a game with the lights off where one “killer” taps a player on the back, they play dead, and the one who finds them shouts “bodies bodies bodies.” Then you try to figure out the killer.

This is also the plot of the rest of the movie. Reijn and writers Sarah DeLappe and Kristen Roupenian are essentially predicting what happens when this generation finds themselves trapped without internet: Lord of the Flies.

A wicked script buoyed by smart visuals—particularly the use of lighting—emphasizes the social anxiety strangling these characters. Agatha Christie turns Agatha Bitchy as paranoia, self-absorption and toxic douchebaggery spoil the party games.

Reijn works the dark corners and vast emptiness of the estate setting for an effective undercurrent of tension as the beats and bodies keep dropping. And though the bloodletting is often offscreen, every new discovery becomes a chance to sharpen suspicions, reopen old wounds and hurl new accusations, with each partygoer struggling to navigate both offense and defense.

The compact cast sparkles with young talent, led by Stenberg and Bakalova. We essentially come to party with them, and it is the breakdown in their characters’ trust that keeps us off balance and fuels our anxieties. Davidson has fun riffing on his own bad boy image, and Shiva Baby‘s Rachel Sennot delivers the biggest smiles as the dim-witted Alice (“guys, doing a podcast is haaaaard!”).

The social commentary here is a bit tardy to be profound, and the 95-minute running time gets filled out via some repetition, but Bodies Bodies Bodies finds an entertaining sweet spot between gore and guffaws.

There’s just enough humor and horror to make the whodunnit less vital, so even solving the mystery early won’t spoil the party. The fun comes from just riding out the storm, and the film’s deliciously deadpan final line reveals that was the plan all along.