Is there a point to a metaphor if a filmmaker does all the unpacking for you? That was my main takeaway from Nightbitch, Marielle Heller’s adaptation of Rachel Yoder’s novel, where Heller and lead star Amy Adams take on the ugly side of motherhood through a slight twist on the werewolf story. In this case it’s a weredog story, where anxieties around the struggle between a woman’s identity and her societal expectations manifest as a literal transformation into a canine. It’s a rich subject that Heller dives into without hesitation, including some of the thornier aspects, until a disappointing final act where she settles on basic end points for her ideas.
Adams plays an unnamed woman (credited as “Mother”) taking care of her toddler son (played by twins Arleigh Patrick Snowden and Emmett James Snowden) as a stay-at-home mom. A rapidly cut montage establishes the Mother’s grueling, monotonous schedule of tending to her child all day. Not helping matters is her Husband (Scoot McNairy), whose job requires him to travel away from home for most of the week, leaving her with the lion’s share of raising their child and a growing resentment toward her husband. Heller establishes this dynamic through the clever choice of introducing the Husband after we see the Mother’s routine on her own, giving off the impression of a single mother to convey the husband’s privileged and irrelevant role in parenting.
The Mother worked as a successful installation artist before she had her child, quitting her job at a gallery and entering an agreement with her husband where she could focus on being a full-time mom. It’s a decision she regrets, as her artistic side has stagnated and she despises the thought of being nothing more than the stereotypical role of a mother. With her sense of individuality lost, a new self emerges in physical form: sharper teeth, back hair, a heightened sense of smell, and a voracious appetite, among other changes. It’s a reflection of her mindset that she’s been reduced to nothing more than primal instinct. She might as well embrace it and go full animal mode.
Heller understands the absurdity of the premise, since it would be tough to make a drama around Amy Adams barking, snarling, and running around on all fours. Rather than make a horror film, Heller opts for comedy instead. For the most part, the heightened tone helps Nightbitch, since it rarely takes itself too seriously to get too didactic or sober about its themes. Adams unsurprisingly handles her role just fine, and luckily sells some of the broader moments where we get a glimpse into her thoughts through fantasy scenes or just talking to herself.
It’s the last third of Nightbitch where the film goes from mostly harmless to embarrassing. The dog metaphor, which gets sloppier until it can’t go any further, gets laid out in full detail by several characters in case anyone couldn’t figure out its meaning beforehand. Then there’s the Husband, who gets reduced to a buffoon by the end when he realizes that his wife is a human being with her own emotions and feelings. McNairy does a fine job adding nuance to his character so he’s not just a stereotypical absent-minded husband, but he can’t sell a screenplay that makes him appear to discover empathy for the first time.
And despite Heller’s willingness to put forth the idea that it shouldn’t be a woman’s sole responsibility to take care of her kids, that they deserve space and time for themselves rather than be defined by their offspring, it’s all thrown out the window to push the message that being a mom isn’t full of happiness and roses. It’s a strange place for the film to land on, and only made worse with a cheeky punchline of an ending that doesn’t land. Sure, as Adams’ character states outright at the end, motherhood is hard; I would hope that’s a fact everyone can agree with. But Nightbitch is far too easy in its handling of such a complex issue.
Nightbitch premiered at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival and opens on December 6.
The post TIFF Review: Marielle Heller’s Nightbitch Could Use More Bite first appeared on The Film Stage.
