Harris Dickinson and Nicole Kidman in Babygirl (A24)

What qualifies as a Christmas movie has been the subject of recent listicles and news articles. If a storyline occurs during the holiday season, is that enough? Or are themes more important? In one sense, Babygirl is definitely not a holiday film—and certainly not one for the entire family. However, it’s a Christmas movie in the same way Billy Wilder’s The Apartment is, with its naughty office goings-on during the season’s festivities. The time of good cheer and wholesome family togetherness is contradicted by the furtive behavior of high-powered, middle-aged executive Romy, who meets her match—at least in sexual foreplay—in the brash Gen Z intern Samuel (Harry Dickinson, oozing with arrogance). The seasonal setting makes her off-hours assignations all the more transgressive. And, well, the movie does open theatrically on Christmas Day. (Perhaps there’s another holiday where Babygirl would be more appropriate—Valentine’s Day, at least as a warm-up act.)

It’s no coincidence that Romy’s handsome husband, Jacob (Antonio Banderas), is directing a new theater production of Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler, a play about another woman who wants to disrupt her life. Luckily, director Halina Reijn’s layered screenplay fleetingly references Hedda, leaving her as more of a suggestion than a heavy-handed parallel to Romy. The film takes its time—much like the pacing of Fatal Attraction (one of many movies it resembles)—to the point where it becomes entirely credible that a married mother of two accepts the provocative challenges the intern throws her way, all in pursuit of a partner who can finally give her an orgasm.

Romy feels like a compilation of Nicole Kidman’s greatest hits. She has already explored May-December romances as the elder partner (To Die For, A Family Affair). Here, she channels her brittle bitch-goddess mode (Margot at the Wedding), while also evoking the sexual fantasist she played in Eyes Wide Shut. One key difference is that this time, Romy actively pursues and accepts what she desires—albeit cautiously at first—leaving nothing to her imagination. It’s as if Romy has taken Alice’s final suggestion from Eyes Wide Shut—“Fuck”—as her modus operandi, embracing it with gusto. She also joins a singular sorority of characters like Kathleen Turner’s fashion designer-turned-sex worker in Crimes of Passion and Isabelle Huppert’s steely performance in The Piano Teacher. Oh, and the secret to Romy’s stamina? Seven cups of coffee a day.

The second English-language movie by Dutch director Reijn (Bodies Bodies Bodies) borrows the slick veneer and vibes of 1980s and 1990s erotic thrillers, immersing viewers in the world of Manhattan’s one percent. (Though the production looks well-moneyed, the offices of Romy’s Amazon-like shipping conglomerate were filmed in the workspace of A24, the movie’s distributor.) Among familiar tropes: the extramarital lover intruding upon the family hearth, the possibly psychotic sex partner (whom Reijn tantalizingly keeps as a man of mystery), and the looming threats of exposure and blackmail. (No dead rabbits here, but a poor skunk is discovered floating in a pool.)

However, instead of relying on jump scares and cheap thrills, Reijn focuses on how Romy deliberately detonates her safe, functional life for quickies in her executive bathroom and rendezvous at a luxury hotel. Speaking of the ‘80s, a moment where a catlike Romy laps milk from a bowl at Samuel’s command may call to mind Madonna’s “Express Yourself” video.

At a post-screening Q&A at the Toronto International Film Festival, Reijn admitted there would be no movie if Romy had been honest and unashamed with the sensitive Jacob about her unmet needs. Jacob, a bit underwritten, stands in as the archetypal perfect husband—he’s played by Banderas, after all. Yet it’s a one-sided relationship. Even after learning about Romy’s complaints, he never voices his own desires. Maybe he actually is the perfect partner, easy to please.

Still, it’s doubtful Kidman has ever been as emotionally and physically vulnerable as she is here. Nor has she ever been this primal. More than once, viewers may find themselves questioning whether they should even be watching.