20 minutes into last night’s viewing of Babygirl, I texted a friend who’d seen it a while back.

HE to friendo: “Babygirl is pretty good!”
Friendo to HE: “Kidman amazing.”
HE to friendo: “Halina Reijn is a really good director!”
Friend to HE: “And Reijn wrote it too. Kidman heard about the script and sought it out. The trouble is that Americans have problems with sexual situations in movies.”
HE to friendo: “It’s wild!!! I felt lit up inside….crazy, slurpy, over-the-waterfall sexual films are still being made. George Michael‘s ‘Father Figure’, INXS‘s ‘Never Tear Us Apart’…man! When sex is really good, it constitutes a form of madness. Babygirl doesn’t feel histrionic…it feels real and conversationally casual and verite…but at the same time it’s so highly charged during the sex scenes that I forgot about Nicole’s juvoderm injections…totally forgot about that.”
Friendo to HE: “Nicole had a nicer, larger, more luscious ass in Eyes Wide Shut.”
HE to friendo: “And your package is just as wang-schlongy as it was when you were 28? She’s doing just fine for 58.”
Friendo to HE: “And poor Antonio Banderas.”
HE to friendo: “When you get older and you’ve been with someone for 20 or 25 years, the hormonal magic just isn’t there anymore, and if your wife or partner is one of those ‘okay, I’m here so service me and no moody, half-staff erections’ types, sex can feel Sisyphusian…like digging ditches.”
Friendo to HE: “When the husband confronts the extra-marital lover, it’s time to rassle!”