Babylon (2022)
Few movies in recent memory have captured the opulent, debauched splendor of Hollywood’s golden age quite like Babylon. Damien Chazelle’s film is three hours of relentless spectacle, chronicling the rise and fall of its glamorous stars with a confidence that’s rare in modern cinema. The attention to detail is stunning, the acting superb, and the scenes are packed with a ferocious, mesmerizing energy. There’s just one minor side effect: I haven’t had an erection since seeing it in theaters in December 2022.
From the minute the film opens, you’re immersed in a sensory overload that lingers well after the credits roll. I went into Babylon expecting a night of delightful escapism, maybe some light contemplation about fame and its toll on the soul. I left the theater with erectile disfunction. Hopefully, other people with penises have reported similar issues post-viewing, but I haven’t heard of that. So, as far as I know, I am the only person afflicted with what I call, “Babylimp.”
To be clear, this is not a bad movie. In fact, it’s expertly crafted. Chazelle brings his trademark flair, capturing the chaotic glitz of the 1920s Hollywood scene with dazzling camerawork and rapid-fire pacing. Margot Robbie and Brad Pitt deliver riveting performances that feel almost divine in their hedonistic brilliance. It’s a visceral, thrilling experience. Unfortunately, it’s also an experience that, has left me shaking with frustration for nearly two god damn years.
And while the root cause of Babylimp remains unclear, some theories, unlike my penis, have emerged. Is it the intense, borderline traumatic depiction of early Hollywood decadence? Or perhaps the near-constant montage of over-the-top excess which has somehow tricked my psyche into thinking, “Well, buddy, you’ve seen it all.” I’ve tried everything—doctors, meditation, rewatching Forgetting Sarah Marshall—but nothing seems to stir even the faintest semblance of movement.
Critics have praised Babylon for its fearless approach, and rightly so. But what no one is addressing is the hidden danger lurking in its three-hour runtime. Maybe, like me, you were once a functioning adult who could watch La La Land without any adverse effects. But with Babylon, Chazelle has simply made somethings that is too much for me. Is it possible to enjoy the film as a piece of art and still feel betrayed by the physical devastation it has wrought upon my life? Absolutely.
Despite everything, I find myself recommending Babylon to others. It’s a fantastic film, a remarkable achievement, and the kind of cinema that only comes along once in a while. Just—please—proceed with caution. Sure, you’ll experience an unforgettable spectacle, but you may also be left, as I was, with an irreversible case of Babylimp. So by all means, go see it. Just know that when you walk out of that theater, you may never ever get an erection again and your wife may leave you.