Described by critics as a study of “radical passivity,” the film presents Lucy’s dormancy as both the ultimate form of objectification and, paradoxically, a strange form of agency—she chooses to take the job, after all. But as many reviewers noted, Lucy exists on screen as a “sleeping girl” who remains “unconscious, silent, unfeeling, and unthinking” while men use her as a lifelike doll. The film was presented in competition at the Cannes Film Festival, where it provoked sharp debate over whether it critiques or merely perpetuates the fantasy it depicts. One interviewer noted that “the sleeping girl is a widespread fantasy, a classic lure on internet prostitution networks, on YouTube”. Julia Leigh’s film held a dark mirror to the culture that consumes such images, forcing audiences to sit with the discomfort of watching a woman who cannot watch back.
In the vast ecosystem of digital storytelling, certain archetypes transcend cultural boundaries and linguistic barriers. One of the most persistent, yet critically underexamined, tropes in modern popular media is what Spanish-language critics and audiences have come to identify as "de chicas dormidas" (of sleeping girls). This phrase, while seemingly literal, has evolved into a complex shorthand for a specific genre of entertainment content that depicts female characters in states of vulnerability, unconsciousness, or suspended animation.
The de chicas dormidas trope is anything but new. Its roots stretch back centuries, long before the internet or even cinema.
On platforms like TikTok, "chicas dormidas" is a broad category used for various types of user-generated content: Described by critics as a study of “radical
For many, viewing this type of content is a form of digital escapism from the "hustle culture" of the modern world. Conclusion
In modern filmmaking, the concept of a "sleeping woman" or "sleeping girl" is frequently utilized to construct tension, vulnerability, or uncanny supernatural experiences.
Luna looked into the camera, into the hungry eye of popular media, and smiled tiredly. One interviewer noted that “the sleeping girl is
This report has some limitations, including:
Some arthouse films use long shots of characters sleeping to challenge the viewer's patience and perception of time, turning a mundane act into a piece of performance art. 3. Digital Trends and Social Media
Not necessarily. Many creators stage their own sleep content, offering full consent. However, a significant portion of viral media involves non-consenting subjects—dormmates, sisters, passengers on public transport. The ethical line blurs when the content is “just a joke” or “aesthetic.” One of the most persistent, yet critically underexamined,
This content thrives on intimacy, safety, and parasocial connection. Rather than being passive or objectified, the sleeping figures in this media actively provide comfort, acting as a digital remedy for anxiety and insomnia. The Aesthetic and Visual Culture
As consumers, we have a choice: to engage unthinkingly, perpetuate outdated tropes, and risk crossing ethical lines—or to understand why we look, how we look, and most importantly, whether the sleeping girl would feel safe if she ever woke up to see us there.
In classical media, sleep was often used as a narrative device for vulnerability or magic. Fairy tales established the foundation, where a sleeping protagonist became the focal point of the story’s climax. These stories focused on the aesthetic of stillness—portraying sleep as a moment of pure, uninterrupted beauty that awaited a transformative awakening.
Japanese anime has arguably the most sophisticated engagement with de chicas dormidas entertainment content.
From the medieval “Reclining Venus” to the TikTok “sleepy girl,” from the fairy‑tale prince’s kiss to the dark‑web “eyecheck” video, the sleeping girl has been a remarkably persistent figure in popular media. She is beautiful, she is silent, and she does not move. She is everything the active, desiring, speaking female subject is not.