“Nightbitch” (2024) is an adaptation of Rachel Yoder’s 2021 novel, and Marielle Heller’s latest film. Avant garde artist turned stay at home Mother (Amy Adams) is facing an identity crisis because of the dissonance of her earlier self-compared to her present state. Initially the changes in her body can be dismissed because she just had a child, but she gradually realizes that she transforms into a dog at night. She finds this development invigorating and begins to integrate it into every aspect of her life which frees her from her inhibitions of being an appropriate mother and wife and tap into an unbridled primal version of herself, but is her metamorphosis the solution to her problems?
Fans of “Arrival” (2016) or “Nocturnal Animals” (2016) will not be surprised that Adams can carry a movie and ground a surreal film with body horror elements that liken her more to a superhero than a nocturnal terror. Her character goes on a convincing emotional journey as a disaffected first time mother stuck in between missing her old life/feeling above her present one and adoring her son and husband. Adams’ performance holds some neat surprises such as a wry smile after stark seriousness or a smoldering dawning assessment of her situation. She is delighted, not horrified, at the turn of the events and revels in the prospect of becoming a monster.
Heller’s films such as “The Diary of a Teenage Girl” (2015) and “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” (2018) are known for depicting unacceptable women, and while “Nightbitch” protagonist is relatively tame, she would also fit right in. She is continuing the surreal work that she started exploring in “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” (2019), but unlike that film, it is harder to get a handle on the fantastical elements in this story. There are some hilarious scenes where Heller shows Mother’s honest response before shifting back to reality, but as Mother becomes a dog, there is objective evidence of her nocturnal adventures in the real world. While the story works without answers to Mother’s predicament, it is kind of important since it diverts the film’s focus from a universal experience of motherhood and could alienate audiences unfamiliar with magical realism who may want less ambiguity to fully relate to a character. It may not reach its intended audience.
“Nightbitch” can be fully appreciated if it is considered as part of a new phenomenon in film about white women protagonists who achieve all their dreams yet find themselves unmoored from their socially acceptable selves within their present community to become monsters. It would pair nicely with “The Substance” (2024) and “Babygirl” (2024). Each of these films involve a woman who once belonged to a part of a high control group. Without a lot of explanation, Heller gives moviegoers a glimpse of Mother’s childhood in a Mennonite community. For people who only speak cinema, they are the religious group at the center of “Women Talking” (2022), which was based on a true story. While it is not depicted, someone like the protagonist may not have a community outside of the one that she adopted as an adult and created, which puts undue pressure and expectations on those around her. Because her existing community is inadequate, the character resorts to extremes to rediscover herself and feel at home in her body. Turning into a dog makes her an instinctual part of the pack which contrasts her awkwardness as she adjusts to getting to know the other mothers in her neighborhood. This film falters by failing to show the drawbacks to being a weredog. Instead the story resorts to cheap emotional manipulation to compel Mother to find another path. It is the one section that feels toothless. Real danger would threaten someone that she loves, but it only affects the most hated member of the family, the cat, who always had her fluffy tail up and did not deserve that kind of treatment—judge this family of budding serial killers.
While “The Substance” has no (or few) Black women characters and differs from the other films because the main character never finds a safe, male figure to retain her cover image, “Babygirl” and “Nightbitch” does both. In the latter two films, Black women accept how the protagonist presents herself to the world, but the protagonist is depicted as quietly resenting that these friends or colleagues do not realize that they are masking and playing an acceptable role. In this film, most of these women are former art world associates or grad school friends. Mother perceives that her friend, Naya (Ella Thomas), who is a working mother, is not performing and living authentically in both worlds, professional and personal, which leads to a seething, unarticulated resentment disproportionate and misdirected instead of focused on the cause of her ills. It is a more cartoonish relationship than the friendship at the center of “Showing Up” (2023). Subsequent to her dinner with Naya, she fantasizes about being or becomes a dog. In her dog form, other dogs offer her tribute in the form of dead animals like she is a queen, and she becomes her most violent self. Her resentment is more about not being a star and being the center of attention than feeling judged for no longer being an artist though they do seem to silently judge her for that life choice. Were they ever friends because she does not seem to like them, but their actions, not their words, show a kind of support albeit not the kind that she wants or needs. While all her friends from grad school are framed as the real villains and entirely unsympathetic, her husband is treated more humanely.
Scoot McNairy is having a great year playing men who feel as if they are falling short in life starting with the unemployed patriarch in “Speak No Evil” (2024) who has a bromance with James McAvoy’s character, now the Husband in “Nightbitch” and soon as a bedridden Woody Guthrie in “A Complete Unknown” (2024). Heller pulls no punches in showing Husband’s weaponized incompetence, but the story pulls a “Barbie” (2023) and gives him a speech to redeem himself in a “patriarchy traps everyone” speech. Mother delivers her fair share of monologues to her fellow moms, Jen (Zoe Chao), Miriam (Mary Holland) and Liz (Archana Rajan). Mother is an unreliable narrator because at the beginning of the film, she disdains these three women and idealizes a woman who resembles her group of friends from grad school, but by the end, their positions are reversed, and the trio become part of her inner sanctum. It is more important for her to be on the top and judging someone than truly becoming a part of a friendship group. Her paintings reflect individuation, but her dialogue does not.
As they approach enlightenment to create a third path, Husband and the other mothers begin to engage with each Mother more genuinely. It felt like a missed opportunity that there was not much time devoted to further individuating the mothers beyond adoring. There is a theme about the fire inside girls which women have to quietly nurture but often set aside. It was a pleasant, unintended allusion to the upcoming sports biopic, “The Fire Inside” (2024), about a young disadvantaged girl who becomes an Olympian before becoming an adult and challenges gender roles. If this film deserves a sidequel, it should revolve around Norma (Jessica Harper), a librarian and mother of adult sons who represents the shining beacon to Mother that she can survive this stage of her life and become a full human again.
“Nightbitch” is a good film, but it feels as if it pulls punches because the story’s themes frightened them too much. Like “Babygirl,” it is about the unusual measures that white women must take to cope with having it all and retaining their position while wanting more because a fully integrated life, inside and out, does not seem to be an option. It may be Heller’s weakest film to date, but considering what a great director she is, it is still a triumph.
