Right now on the website for A24 – the reigning enfant terrible of indie American film distribution – you can buy a ‘Babygirl Milk Tee’ for $40, a T-shirt prominently featuring an image of a tall glass of milk. This is an allusion to one of the more memorable moments in Halina Reijn’s Babygirl, when upstart intern Samuel (Harris Dickinson) surreptitiously purchases a glass of milk for his much-older boss, Romy (Nicole Kidman), at a work function, then watches her drink it in a single gulp; a semi-public display of psychosexual domination. The T-shirt, much like the rest of A24’s Babygirl marketing, teases untold lasciviousness; this glass of milk, they wish to tell us, is but the tip of the iceberg in the erotic spectacle of the season. Babygirl the film, much like the T-shirt, is full of promise, with little payoff; that glass of milk is an all-too-early high point in an otherwise disappointingly restrained character drama. This is not to judge a film wholly by its advertising campaign, nor is this some leering plea for more needless flesh on film; but when a movie loudly proclaims that it has something to say about sexual taboos, one wishes the finished product had half as much curiosity or conviction as its own characters.