As a woman who has navigated the challenging and transformative journey of motherhood, I found “Nightbitch” to be an intriguing exploration of the darker, more primal aspects of this experience. The film’s portrayal of Mother’s physical and emotional metamorphosis resonated with me on a deeply personal level, capturing the raw, visceral feelings that often accompany the transition into motherhood.
In the case of a film titled Nightbitch, where the narrative involves a woman transforming into a dog as a result of the pressures and challenges of motherhood, one wouldn’t expect subtlety. Marielle Heller’s movie adaptation of Rachel Yoder’s 2021 novel starts off well, with witty humor and hints of the bizarre to come. However, it fails to fully explore its unique concepts, falling short of delivering a genuinely thought-provoking experience. This is unfortunate for Amy Adams, who gives a commendable performance, but is let down by the script.
It’s not surprising anymore that every housewife and mother isn’t like June Cleaver, despite J.D. Vance’s conservative perspective. However, it’s disheartening to see a book hailed as a feminist fable, which openly addressed the often unspoken struggles of motherhood, being tamed down. Yes, the protagonist does give in to primal urges to reclaim a piece of herself that was misplaced. Yet, the harshness is softened by frequent reminders that no matter how fierce her female fury, her love for her child remains unwavering.
Nightbitch has a distinct look – it’s bright and clear during the day, but takes on a mysterious, darker tone at night. However, the film requires the bold Heller from Can You Ever Forgive Me?, who delved into the sharp wit and raw edges of her character with relish. Instead, it seems that the writer-director has reined in the wildness a bit too quickly, almost as if they haven’t fully shed the gentle comfort found in the life and teachings of Mr. Rogers, whom they portrayed in A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.
One way to rephrase this could be:
In a concise runtime of approximately 90 minutes, Nightbitch can appear slow-paced at times. The narrative, compressed so tightly, loses some of its intended impact regarding the theme of losing one’s identity and the desire to reclaim it, making these points seem vague or even commonplace. It’s surprising that the liberating transformation of a character into a Husky, who then starts attacking bunnies, takes a backseat to saving a marriage. The film flirts with body horror but pulls away before fully committing. Ultimately, it seems unclear about its purpose or what specific message it aims to convey.
Watching Adams perform is a compelling reason alone to attend this show, as it offers a unique, intimate glimpse into her character’s apprehensions and worries. She masterfully employs comedic timing throughout the play, subtly guiding us into understanding her perspective. Although she doesn’t make the unusual bodily transformations and abnormal urges seem ordinary, she gradually learns to find humor rather than alarm in them.
Mother was a skilled artist, famed for her sculptures and installations, prior to her decision to leave her profession behind to care for her young charge, affectionately referred to as Baby (portrayed by charming twins Arleigh Patrick and Emmett James Snowden), while her Spouse (Scoot McNairy) departs for work, a job that frequently keeps him away for extended periods. In line with the character, neither the father nor child is identified by name.
In a humorous initial setting at the temple of daily life, the supermarket, a harried-looking Mother, with weary eyes and swollen from lack of sleep, navigates the store with Baby in tow when she encounters her polished counterpart, a former gallery job colleague. When this colleague asks about her wellbeing, instead of her usual polite response, she delivers an impassioned outburst about being swallowed by the monotonous duties of motherhood, expressing her discontent with an unexpectedly cheerful tone, despite her obvious distress and growing frustration.
Indications suggest that much of what the main character says is merely thoughts in their mind, as evidenced by another character’s passive reaction. Similar instances are observed in certain actions, such as a swift slap given to Husband upon hearing his dismissive response to her escalating worries, followed by an unconvincing statement: “Happiness is a choice.” At a later point, he expresses a desire to spend the day at home with the child instead of going to work. However, even when he attempts a single parenting task, like bath time, he frequently disrupts his wife’s rest with requests for various items.
In instances like that, Adams skillfully captures a mother’s mounting frustration as if echoing the exasperation of countless women who have felt overworked and underappreciated, much like uncompensated 24-hour caretakers with husbands blissfully unaware of the job’s challenges. Yet, Adams manages to inject humor into the situation, making it particularly amusing when Husband timidly suggests intimacy (“Do you wanna…?”) and she responds with a tired “Heavens, no.
Two years following the birth of her child, she feels overlooked and forgotten. During an uncommon night out with acquaintances from the art world, she openly confessed, without a trace of self-pity, that she had transformed into “merely a tired mom, lacking any insightful contributions to our discussions.
What new trouble do you face today?” Mother questions the mirror in her bathroom, as it becomes increasingly difficult to attribute these peculiar occurrences to mere perimenopausal symptoms. Her olfactory senses seem amplified, her teeth appear sharper, dogs are drawn to her at the park, she grows fur in unexpected places, and she’s alarmed by two surprises: one when a lump on her lower back turns out to be something unusual, and another when she sees additional nipples on herself.
At night, there’s a surreal quality to the dogs that gather outside her home, presenting her with carcasses of various animals. It doesn’t take much time before she’s found on all fours, investigating the ground intently, and then dashing off quickly once her complete metamorphosis occurs (a commendable job by the special effects and costume department).
Mother’s identity has been eroded by self-doubt. When she acknowledges that she’s given up being an artist and can now fully experience Baby’s growth, it’s more like convincing herself than truly believing. However, once she joins in with the others, she transforms into a blend of womanhood and primal instinct, swearing to shed her feelings of embarrassment. These moments carry a potent allure, a raw strength that the film could benefit from showcasing more.
It’s puzzling that Heller appears to lose focus on the canine allegory that forms the core of Mother’s transformative journey, as it seems some choices were made during editing to omit the bizarre, nocturnal leaps of the character. This seems to diminish Adams’ intense portrayal of the role’s dramatic extremes, as her strange and captivating nighttime explorations are treated more like a stepping stone towards a more harmonious marriage rather than the central element they appear to be.
McNairy subtly portrays Husband as somewhat neglectful, yet avoids turning him into an outright jerk. He humorously acknowledges that taking care of Baby solo, which enables Mother to focus on her art again, is challenging. However, it seems that a significant portion of the story is dedicated to his redemption, which might undermine the main narrative’s intended impact.
As a gamer diving into the world of “Nightbitch”, I can tell you that this movie is meant to make us uncomfortable, yet surprisingly, it seems more focused on mending marital discord than stirring up controversy. The protagonist candidly admits, “Motherhood is just plain tough”. But then, in a shocking twist, it’s not – at least not in the way you’d expect. This unexpected resolution, served up right before the end credits, leaves us with a WTF? moment that’s hard to forget.
In her memories of growing up in a Mennonite-like community, Mother finds a rich tapestry that she believed she had put aside. She’s unexpectedly empathizing with her mother’s past sorrow, a woman who briefly escaped the bonds of domestic life but returned without explanation. There’s also the cryptic librarian Norma (played by Jessica Harper), who seems to intuitively understand Mother’s struggles and suggests reading a mystical book titled “A Field Guide to Magical Women“. However, these strands leave a lingering sense of incompleteness.
In the library’s Book Babies circle, which is musically led by Nate Heller (the film’s composer and director’s brother), she meets three other mothers: Jen, Miriam, and Liz. Initially, she finds it unbelievable that sharing the role of motherhood would automatically make her appreciate the company of these women. However, as they become better acquainted, they hint at aspects beyond their maternal duties, piquing her curiosity.
If developed further, the playful scenes in the film “Nightbitch” could have explored a deeper, rebellious critique of maternal constraints, transforming the fantastical escapes of a woman under immense stress with an uncomprehending husband into a broader and sharper commentary. The title and premise suggest something wild and untamed, but unfortunately, the movie fails to fully explore this potential ferocity.
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2024-09-08 18:55