A dreamlike exploration of toxic masculinity, new motherhood, and sexual awakening, Quebecois actor-director Monia Chokri debuted her second feature, “Babysitter,” at this year’s Sundance Film Festival. While it’s unclear what “Babysitter” is actually trying to say — or even what its characters learn over the course of its plot — the film is so thoroughly sardonic that it gleefully resists any deeper meaning.
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“Babysitter” centers on Cédric (Patrick Hivon), an engineer whose world is upended when he goes viral for drunkenly kissing a female news anchor. Now on indefinite leave from his job, Cédric decides to write a book about his life as a sexist instead of parenting his new infant so that his wife, Nadine (Chokri), can enjoy some downtime. He enlists the help of a bubbly, laissez-faire babysitter named Amy (Nadia Tereszkiewicz) so that he and his brother, Jean-Michel (Steve Laplante), can write the next bestseller. But Amy has more to offer than just good looks and child care, and she quickly teaches Nadine how to make the most of her middle-class life.
Amy is a cipher. She blatantly misunderstands sexism and is content to turn her servitude into a fetish, donning a maid costume for her duties, but she also haunts Jean-Michel for objectifying her and plays a crucial role in Nadine’s sexual awakening. She does not exist to further any cause but rather to upend all of the character’s preconceived notions. The results of this are completely open to the viewer: Where one might see Amy’s self-sexualization as empowering, another might see it as a satire of choice feminism.
The film’s intentional vagueness is not limited to its script. Cinematographer Josée Deshaies bathes each scene in soft light, making Geneviève Boivin’s vintage set decoration look all the more retro. Like Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe’s “Greener Grass,” “Babysitter” feels like a probably-feminist fever dream — apropos, considering Catherine Léger wrote its story in the throes of postpartum sleep deprivation. Think David Lynch, if he had a more accessible sense of humor and capitalized less on female trauma.
Though this film is gesturing at social commentary, it feels more like art for art’s sake than anything else. You’re more likely to see Chokri swishing around in a cape than you are dryly condemning her husband. Like its titular character, “Babysitter” remains blissfully unbothered even as its themes weigh heavy. In this world, even the things that should matter — sexuality, power, gender — mostly don’t. But in our era of #MeToo Oscar bids, this is a take on the female experience that feels more refreshing than dismissive. If you want to embrace “Babysitter” despite its opaqueness, you’re likely to have a good time. [B]
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