For Stella, Chris and their daughter lead an 'always on' life, live streaming to social media platforms each and every aspect of their existence via their 'Our Bright Life' channel. From Luca's filmed birth and podcasted discussions with her mother (including one excruciating clip where Stella explains periods to her daughter in front of a huge online audience), the brand sponsored family monetise at every opportunity, unashamedly pimping Luca's youth for likes; Chris is on a life mission to look good for the cameras, and their home, an immaculate sterile environment, is custom built for all camera access. "We're being paid for just being ourselves", explains Luca. But who exactly are their real selves?
As we meet the family they are introduced to a group of very young fans who have been bussed out to their country retreat, just a small handful of their 4 plus million subscribers. The childrens' questions alarmingly focus on Luca's body, age and partner status, and it's clear from the start to team handler Julie (Joy Ewulu) that the object of their attention is not entirely happy.
Nevertheless, as Stella and Chris remind her, without their online influencing lives the family would have nothing; they are, clearly, comfortably rich. But even while Luca is seemingly locked into this lifestyle - "your Mercedes Benz doesn't pay for itself" says dad about his daughter's luxury car - it doesn't stop her wanting to achieve her own agency via branded videos. At other times she seems hopelessly infantilised, occasionally still sleeping in her parents' bed after having nightmares.
But Stella and Chris want another child, information which disturbs Luca; whether this is natural sibling anxiety or concern over lost business opportunities is initially difficult to tell, but for whatever reason the news (broken to her in a streamed restaurant scene where Luca is given a cake with the words 'only child' struck through) forces her to leave her family and set up shop in a hotel, a disastrous form of independent living which just makes her even unhappier, as she watches - online, natch - her parents prepare for the birth of their second child.
Billed as a satirical comedy, Bongard's beautifully mounted, glacially observed film is just too prescient to promote laughter; this reviewer watched in quiet dread as Luca's parents, clearly aware of their daughter's antipathy to the new arrival, constantly sought to film her reactions. As the centre of this film Maja Bons is excellent, her character oscillating between child and woman, needy but confident, pulled in different ways by her frankly awful parents and Julie, initially a friend but later just one more manipulator.
I have a feeling - or make that a fear - that the 'futureshock' aspect of Babystar's setup may soon become a reality, in the same way that Spike Jonze's 2013 movie Her anticipated the arrival of Alexa by less than a year. While I'm pleased that the director gave us a slightly redemptive ending, it's the cold hard reality of commerce and technology that you'll remember here.
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