Dull, convoluted ‘Nightbitch’ is a toothless dog
There are precious few manuals or symposiums on how to be a parent, even less on how to be a parent without sacrificing the person you were before giving birth. That’s the realization that’s suddenly dawning on Amy Adam’s character, Mother, as her primal and maternal instincts cross paths causing her to become the equivalent of a werewolf in the surreal “Nightbitch.” And, boy, does it bite. And not in a good way.
Adams is sensational in the part, a compelling mix of rage, confusion and self-loathing. But she’s consistently undermined by the normally reliable Marielle Heller, the writer-director who earned wide acclaim for her three-peat of “The Diary of a Teenage Girl,” “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” and “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.” That impressive streak regrettably comes to a crashing halt with the insufferable “Nightbitch,” a wannabe satire that stumbles and falls as it struggles to be funny and knowing.
Still, the message comes through that tending to an infant is a responsibility largely shouldered by women, as the fathers – like Scoot McNairy’s Husband – continue in their careers like nothing ever happened. It’s not fair. But it’s what society has dictated ever since families resided in caves. It’s the woman’s job to nurture and the man’s to be the earner and provider.
Why can’t it be equal? Why must the woman sacrifice who she is as a person, and in Mother’s case, an artist, to continue a lineage that offers no pay, few benefits and disorienting sleep deprivation? If you have the answer, Mother would like to know because she’s about had it, watching Husband skate while she loses everything, including her sanity.
It’s a terrific, thought-provoking premise that Heller manages to fumble in adapting a same-titled novel by Rachel Yoder that became a must-read during the pandemic. But unlike the book, which unfolds entirely inside Mother’s head, Heller presents it as more of a real-life parable that borrows heavily from body-horror tropes.
Is Mother developing extra nipples and sprouting hairs in unwanted places for real, as the film suggests, or is it all in her imagination? The heap of dead animals piled outside her front door each morning hints that it’s not. Yet, on the few occasions when Husband isn’t away at work, he never seems to notice any difference in Mother’s appearance or behavior. But is that the point, that men are clueless and unempathetic in such instances? If so, it’s never rendered apparent. And that lack of clarity is problematic.
So is the tidy manner in which Heller brings her film to a merciful end with everyone declaring bygones. And what is the catalyst for this miraculous détente? I won’t say but trust that it’s as underwhelming as the rest of the picture. But kudos to Adams for her willingness to put herself out there, dialing down the glam and accentuating the seeming horrors of how motherhood changes your body as much as it does your perspective on life, self and love.
She’s a marvel, particularly when Mother finally summons the courage to sound off to her fellow moms during the weekly gathering of Book Babies, reminding them that mothers are “Gods” because of their ability to create life. The tone in which Adams delivers it is both funny and profound, as she’s buoyed by the transfixed expressions on the faces of her more passive peers. Alas, it’s the only time this trudge ever comes alive. The rest is a waste of time, energy and talent while proving to be a real howler.
Movie review
Nightbitch
Rated: R for language and some sexuality
Cast: Amy Adams, Scoot McNairy and Jessica Harper
Director: Marielle Heller
Writer: Marielle Heller
Runtime: 98 minutes
Where: In theaters Dec. 6
Grade: C-
