“Sex Isn’t a Hollywood Fantasy”: Halina Reijn on Desire, Shame, and the Power of Unfiltered Cinema

With Babygirl, Dutch director Halina Reijn pushes the boundaries of the erotic thriller, crafting a film that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll. Months after its Venice premiere, its sharp, unfiltered approach to sex and power continues to provoke conversation. Starring Nicole Kidman and Harris Dickinson, Babygirl dives into the complexities of desire, control, and female liberation.

We sat down with Reijn to talk about discomfort, authenticity, and why she’s not interested in Hollywood’s glossy take on sex.

Your last film, Bodies Bodies Bodies, was a satirical slasher. Babygirl is an erotic psychological drama. What draws you to such wildly different genres?

I started out in theater, playing women who were always seeking freedom, Ophelia in Hamlet, Hedda Gabler. And I noticed a pattern: these women rarely survived. They were either killed or destroyed. It frustrated me. It made me wonder why a woman’s pursuit of freedom so often ends in tragedy.

That’s what pushed me into filmmaking. I wanted to take control of these stories, to show female characters on their own terms. My first film, Instinct, was about a therapist who falls for a rapist she’s supposed to be rehabilitating. It was pitch black. Uncompromising. That film was my way of processing the power dynamics we internalise.

Then A24 sent me Bodies Bodies Bodies. At first, I said no, I wasn’t interested in making a horror film. But when I stripped out the traditional “killer” and made the horror come from toxic relationships, it clicked. That film was about social survival, about how fear and insecurity can turn people against each other.

With Babygirl, I wanted to go even deeper. I asked myself, what does it mean to be truly honest? Why do we censor our desires?

You say you wanted to make a film about female liberation. How does Babygirl explore that?

Liberation isn’t about perfection. It’s not about “becoming” an ideal. It’s about being fully yourself, including the parts that feel messy, ugly, or contradictory.

Take something as small as body hair. Why do I look in the mirror, see a stray hair on my chest, and feel disgusted? Why can’t I see it as beautiful? That’s a minor example, but it speaks to something much bigger, we’re trained to edit ourselves, to filter out what isn’t “acceptable.” And that extends to sex.

Hollywood has taught us that sex is sleek, choreographed, effortless. But in reality? It’s awkward. It’s uncertain. It’s a constant negotiation. I wanted to put that on screen. When I direct sex scenes, I ask my actors to go through every beat of human interaction, hesitation, miscommunication, pleasure, regret. Because sex isn’t just physical, it’s psychological.

Speaking of sex scenes, you’ve said that Hollywood’s version of intimacy feels staged. How did you approach realism in Babygirl?

First, I write every moment in detail. But I don’t lock my actors into choreography. I give them a structured plan, then I step back and let them react in real time.

For Babygirl, we worked with an intimacy coordinator to ensure safety, but I also wanted the actors to feel free. Nicole Kidman and Harris Dickinson are incredibly intuitive performers. When they’re in the moment, you can feel the electricity between them. It’s not about creating a “hot” scene, it’s about creating a real one.

You’ve admired Nicole Kidman for years. How was it working with her?

Terrifying at first. She reached out to me after Instinct, saying she loved my work. But when we started filming Babygirl, I was so nervous I could barely look at her.

The first scenes we shot were deliberately low key, no intense emotions, just quiet interactions. That helped. Nicole is so dedicated, so fearless. After a few hours, I stopped seeing Nicole Kidman, the Movie Star and just saw an actor who was completely immersed in her character.

What did you and Nicole discuss before filming?

Our first conversation happened after Instinct came out. We talked about creativity, about what art means to us, about pushing into uncomfortable spaces. We both love telling stories that challenge us. We talked about aging, about death, about shame. It was a deep conversation that set the tone for Babygirl.

The film also features a striking scene where Nicole Kidman’s character gets Botox. What inspired that?

That scene came from my own struggles with beauty standards. When I was young, boys would tell me to shave my legs because I looked like a grizzly bear. It traumatised me. Later, directors told me I wasn’t pretty enough, that I should reshape my face. We live in a world where beauty is about perfection. I wanted to challenge that.

In the film, Romy thinks therapy and self-improvement will erase her flaws. She takes ice baths, she sits in oxygen tanks, she does everything she can to be a “perfect person.” But true self-acceptance doesn’t come from that. It comes from embracing what we fear in ourselves.

Another key scene shows a female orgasm followed by uncontrollable sobbing. Did you have any references for that?

Not really, because I don’t think it’s something we see often. Hollywood loves showing female orgasms as these perfect, ecstatic moments. But sex can be overwhelming in so many different ways. Sometimes, it makes you cry.

We wanted to show that intimacy isn’t just about pleasure. It’s about breaking down walls. About confronting yourself. That scene is one of the most honest moments in the film.

Would you say that desire is feminism’s last frontier?

It’s definitely one of them.

Even in my own life, I feel it. I had a big business meeting recently, surrounded by men, negotiating money. And I caught myself speaking in a more aggressive, “masculine” way, because I knew that’s what would get results.

That’s why I love Gen Z. They’re rejecting that binary. They’re saying, you can be powerful and soft. You can be strong and vulnerable. You don’t have to choose.

That’s what Babygirl is about. It’s not about answers. It’s about questions, messy, complicated, necessary questions.

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