Nightbitch Is More of an Idea Than a Movie

As a movie enthusiast with two kids and a career that took a backseat to motherhood, I found Marielle Heller’s “Nightbitch” strikingly relatable. The film’s introspective narrative mirrors my own struggles with balancing ambition, identity, and the overwhelming responsibilities of parenthood. Amy Adams delivers an exceptional performance, capturing the essence of a woman trapped between her dreams and the reality of motherhood – a battle I’ve fought myself countless times.


Marielle Heller’s latest film, titled “Nightbitch,” at times resembles a documentary-style narrative. Starring Amy Adams as a mother grappling with mounting parental responsibilities and disillusionment towards the world she left behind, she gradually morphs into a canine form. The novel, highly praised, is described as ranging from satire to fairy tale, magical realist fable, horror story, and more. In the movie, Adams delivers her metamorphosis with a mix of certainty and uncertainty, at times offering philosophical insights on the cosmic ironies of being a woman who gave up her dreams for motherhood, while also questioning whether she’s a bad mother for having such concerns.

That queasy positional balancing act occurs throughout Nightbitch, and Adams, whose button-cute sweetness always seems to hide a deep intelligence, is ideally suited for both sides of the see-saw. “You light a fire early in your girlhood,” Mother, who was once an up-and-coming artist, intones in lines taken straight from the novel. “You stoke it and tend it. You protect it at all costs…You keep it secret. You let it burn.” And then, she adds, you give it all up for “a person who will one day pee in your face without blinking.”

This portrayal in the film isn’t meant to criticize motherhood, but rather it skillfully balances the harsh truths of monotonous tasks like cooking hashbrowns and dealing with messy playtimes against the deep affection shared by a parent and child. The toddler character, played by twins Arleigh Patrick Snowden and Emmett James Snowden, is endearing, and the movie acknowledges this charm. We can empathize with the mother’s sacrifice in giving up everything to care for this fragile little human, even as we sense her inner turmoil. Once again, Adams masterfully captures a blend of affectionate tenderness and irritation, encompassing awe-struck wonderment and soul-draining boredom.

Regarding the canine element: It serves as a symbolic accent rather than a primary storyline, yet Heller incorporates occasional glimpses of grotesque physicality and numerous scenes depicting her character’s dog-form sprinting through suburban and urban landscapes. Perhaps ‘symbolic’ isn’t the ideal term. Instead, the dog symbolizes the inherent primal nature of motherhood, which originates from the brutal, animalistic aspect of childbirth. We tend to conceal this side with images of gentleness and compassion in our society, but at its core, it remains a fearsome, bestial entity. (Interestingly enough, those initial months and years of parenthood often transform even us men into beasts, and usually we’re spared the process of childbirth.)

In the film “Nightbitch,” the pervasive meditative tone serves as both its captivating feature and its major flaw. The slow metamorphosis of Mother should provide a sense of progression, but due to its detached presentation, boredom ensues. Essentially, there’s no real narrative unfolding, which wouldn’t be an issue if the movie didn’t persistently try to create one. Beyond Mother’s symbolic nighttime wandering, she is also surrounded by a group of other young mothers whom she views as inferior, yet they will eventually reveal similarities with her. This concept is intriguing, but we don’t get much insight into these characters. They transition from jokes to sisters without development, primarily to reinforce themes rather than captivate the audience. Mother’s husband, Father (Scoot McNairy), is a weak character who frequently travels and insincerely claims he would gladly sacrifice everything for more family time—it’s only a matter of time before he realizes the challenges of parenting and alters his ways. Once again, he appears to serve as a plot device rather than a fully-fledged character.

If the film had fully committed to its abstract nature, none of these issues would arise. Instead, it follows a conventional Hollywood structure, focusing on lessons learned and conflicts resolved. However, beyond the insular world of Mother’s ambition, longing, and stasis, the story lacks depth and development. The movie straddles the line between fantasy and reality, using familiar tropes where characters imagine violent acts only to reveal they didn’t happen in the end. As a result, it’s unclear what is fact and what is fiction, leading the film to repeat itself without much progress. It offers insightful moments, but lacks forward momentum. Perhaps this circular nature was intentional.

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2024-09-08 21:53