‘Nightbitch’ Review: Amy Adams Ferociously Resists the Changes Imposed by Parenthood in Didactic but Welcome Ode to Moms

As a movie reviewer with two rambunctious toddlers of my own, I can confidently say that “Nightbitch” is not just another run-of-the-mill family drama. It’s a poignant and powerful exploration of motherhood, one that had me nodding in understanding at every turn. Amy Adams delivers a tour de force performance as a woman grappling with the transformative effects of motherhood, and her character’s struggle to maintain her identity resonated deeply with my own experiences.


As a movie critic, I’ve found myself reflecting on Helen Reddy’s powerful anthem, “I am Woman,” which still resonates strongly today, over 50 years after its release. Amy Adams delivers an unforgettable, fierce portrayal in Marielle Heller’s captivating film, “Nightbitch.” In the movie, she is simply credited as “Mother,” and her character embodies a woman who traded her career for motherhood four years ago, only to discover now the profound impact it has had on her. A more fitting term might be ‘transformed,’ as Adams’ portrayal of this woman’s primal awakening evokes strong werewolf movie undertones. The narrative unfolds with a mother grappling with the belief that she is morphing into a canine creature.

In “Nightbitch,” author Rachel Yoder begins her story with the words “for my mom & for all the moms.” To some, this might seem like a warning sign, suggesting that the book isn’t meant for male readers or childless women. However, this dedication serves a dual purpose – it’s more of an invitation. The novel should be read by all mothers, according to the paraphrase. Just like Yoder’s book and Heller’s adaptation, the story assumes that motherhood is a fundamental, instinctive part of being human, something shared with other creatures in the animal kingdom. Yet, it’s also an experience that women often navigate alone due to societal norms keeping its challenges hidden.

In “Nightbitch,” the author addresses mothers who might have felt left out of the parenting advice loop. The protagonist, Adams’ Mother, appears to be one such mother, struggling under the weight of her responsibilities. While her spouse (played by Scoot McNairy) is absent for extended periods, she juggles single-handedly raising their child, with towheaded twins Arleigh Patrick Snowdon and Emmett James Snowdon taking turns in the role.

Mother hasn’t had a decent sleep in a while. She takes care of the child by feeding him, cleaning up after him, and taking him to the park and library. However, she finds it hard to connect with the other mothers there – even though Zoë Chao, Ella Thomas, and Mary Holland are friendly and exchange knowing glances as if they’ve all been initiated into some secret club of motherhood. But Adams’ character doesn’t find their company enjoyable, which just amplifies her feelings of isolation.

When she does interact with other moms, Mother immediately jumps to subjects “nobody talks about” (e.g. “Nobody talks about the change that happens on a cellular level”). Is that really a secret, or is she just cut off from conversation? On nights when Father’s gone, she doesn’t even speak to him on the phone. And she never goes near a computer. When it comes time for research, she asks the librarian (a cryptically wise Jessica Harper) not for an instruction manual on motherhood, but “A Field Guide to Magical Women,” featuring chapters on the “bird women of Peru” and so forth.

In a thought-provoking manner, “Nightbitch” exaggerates the notion that mothers are often misunderstood. Not every culture disregards their selfless acts – though this story’s protagonist, who feels the sting of patriarchal oppression, finds it particularly aggravating. Adams skillfully portrays Mother’s frustration with a witty touch, turning her struggles into comedic relief. Through Adams’ narrative, Mother transforms her identity crisis – the feeling that she lost herself during childbirth, replaced by someone she hardly recognizes – into a remarkable journey of self-discovery and transformation.

As I navigate the suburban landscape, transformed from a city-dwelling artist and curator into a finger-painting companion for my 4-year-old, a voice within me echoes America Ferrera’s Barbie monologue, albeit slower and more contemplative. This voice speaks of the unjust realities of motherhood: “How many men have postponed their greatness while women were unsure of what to do with their own?

The truth is, society celebrates motherhood, but it doesn’t do nearly enough to support it (whether that means giving too little maternity leave or Mother’s constant struggle to convince Father to carry some of her burden). That’s not exactly breaking news, and yet, the enormous responsibility that “Nightbitch” dramatizes rarely appears in movies, unless it’s a single dad having to figure out (à la “Mr. Mom” or “Mrs. Doubtfire”). Here, Adams allows herself to appear almost haggard. What makeup Heller gives her star simply makes her look more harried … or simply hairier, as when she notices soft white fur sprouting from her lower back and “whiskers” near the corners of her lips.

The first hint could be that some lycanthropic transformations might be imminent. The second clue arises on the playground, as she mysteriously draws in a group of stray dogs. Soon after, it becomes apparent that the local strays are delivering gifts to her home, which her son discovers contain a deceased rodent and fresh excrement. Despite being inspired by a supernatural tale, “Nightbitch” occasionally reads like a blend between a personal account and a guidebook, such as when the protagonist reflects on incidents from her past childhood.

She now shares an emotional bond with her mother, along with all mothers, recalling (or perhaps envisioning) an incident where she ventured into the woods on all fours, behaving like a “night creature.” Mother playfully coined this term as a jest to her husband one day, but it subsequently grew in her imagination. However, Heller’s purpose is less about creating fear and more about offering comfort. This narrative isn’t so much a horror story as it is a symbolic representation for anyone who experiences a change in perspective after becoming a parent.

In an unexpected twist, Mother’s transformation on camera is a clever display of shape-shifting, emphasizing her back, feet, and tail. This metamorphosis symbolizes both her link to the animal world and her desire for temporary relief from parental responsibilities. A heated discussion between Mother and Father results in them taking some time apart, during which he has custody. In these hours, she finds renewed creativity. After overcoming the initial strangeness, “Nightbitch” unfolds as a straightforward narrative with a familiar and somewhat predictable message – a guide for domestic animals dressed up in werewolf movie costumes.

Read More

2024-09-08 09:46