Canina

Amy Adams really does throw herself into this as mother to a young lad whom she looks after whilst her husband (Scoot McNairy) goes to work - frequently for many nights at a time. There's no suggestion of infidelity, but gradually she begins to feel the strains of this relentless young lad's activities. He rarely wants to sleep, is always full of beans and has a penchant for repeating the odd expletive at exactly the wrong time! It's when she starts to notice some unwanted bodily hair, then some seemingly enlarged incisors that she begins to worry if she isn't undergoing some sort of transformation. All of a sudden, dogs start to show a special interest in her and she and their youngster start to play doggy a great deal more... She also finds herself experiencing flash-backs of her own mother and of her erratic behaviour. Might it be something in the genes? It's Adams's performance that stands out here, otherwise it's a really disappointing attempt at an horror story that falls between a multitude of stools. The character - few actually have names - vacillates between adoring mother (and, occasionally, wife) and maniac entertainingly enough for a while but then it becomes repetitive to no end. Sure, she's exhausted with her childcare responsibilities but why is that different to any other parent (not necessarily a mother) when faced with a child keen to explore and prone to tantrums. The marital relationship is presented in an wholly skewed fashion as if poor old Scoot - who was missing large chunks of their son's development - was somehow in clover whist she sacrificed her life and career as the "home-maker". In the end, once the humour had subsided, I found this a rather dull rant of a movie that contrived to suggest that this was a woman unique amongst parents, and that motherhood was somehow more visceral than fatherhood. What horror elements there are are entirely undeveloped and by the end I was just a bit bored. I did like the exhibits in her gallery, though - ideal for the Christmas tree, and the young lad (I think there were twins) was the real star of the proceedings.

As a lifelong single male I'm out of my comfort zone to discuss this one! It's a rather fascinating, insightful (I think) and somewhat ruthless and startling look at early motherhood. However, while I'm sure some do, I don't get the canine gimmick, for lack of a better word. Not only do I not get it, I think it undermines the really fine parts of this which includes the writing for this loving, harsh and humorous look at a woman on the brink not really understanding all that would change in her world and her being after giving birth to her first child. However, gotta blame the the same writing team of Marielle Heller & Rachel Yoder for the canine analogy. While I don't think it her finest hour, Amy Adams is her usual excellent self in a tricky role that she conquers and it was nice to see Jessica Harper for the first time in a while, though the talented Scoot McNairy is wasted in an underwritten role. For me, much of this was a learning experience.

This film made me feel a lot of feels and I'm not even a mother, so I can't imagine how much it's going to mean to people who are.

Obviously Amy Adams is a force, and in addition the directing and cinematography is really beautiful. And pleasantly surprised by a few metaphysical and witchy vibes.

Interesting trend recently with this movie, and Your Monster, where a strange thing is happening as an allegory for female rage and repressed feelings. It's both empowering, but also kind of depressing. I hope ultimately it instills in more women to NEVER DIM YOURSELF, TELL PEOPLE WHO DESERVE IT TO F OFF, and "Insist on your joy" ♥

Marielle Heller's Nightbitch is a film that wears its metaphor on its sleeve, adapting Rachel Yoder's novel into an intimate, surreal meditation on the anxieties of motherhood. Amy Adams delivers a deeply committed performance, portraying a woman slowly morphing-psychologically and perhaps physically-into something wild. The film is honest, heartfelt, and full of intriguing ideas, but it never quite harnesses its own potential into something truly lasting.

At its best, Nightbitch captures the quiet desperation of a woman whose identity is dissolving into the routines of child-rearing. The film doesn't shy away from the frustration, isolation, and even the bodily transformation that can come with motherhood. The central premise-Adams' character believing she is turning into a dog-feels like a perfect vehicle for exploring these themes. The problem is that the film introduces a range of interesting ideas but rarely commits to them. It flirts with horror, dark comedy, and psychological drama, yet never fully sinks its teeth into any of them.

Visually, the film plays with an unsettling, dreamlike atmosphere, and the sound design heightens the tension in subtle ways. The moments where Nightbitch leans into its body horror elements are effective, but they feel restrained-almost as if the film is afraid to follow through on its own premise. Instead, it settles into a more symbolic and introspective tone, which works emotionally but leaves some of its most compelling aspects underexplored.

Amy Adams is undeniably the film's strongest asset. Her performance is raw and vulnerable, grounding the surreal elements in something deeply human. However, the narrative around her remains somewhat scattered. There's a sense that the film wants to say something profound about identity, femininity, and transformation, but it never fully lands on a clear or resonant thesis.

In the end, Nightbitch is a film that lingers in the mind but doesn't quite leave a lasting mark. It's compelling in moments, frustrating in others-always interesting, but rarely as sharp as it could be. It's worth watching for Adams' performance and its unique take on motherhood, but it ultimately feels like a howl that never reaches a full roar.

In 2021, Rachel Yoder's debut novel 'Nightbitch' was released, to critical acclaim. Partly-autobiographical, the surreal story was described by The Guardian's Lara Feigel as being "an important contribution to the engagement with motherhood that rightly dominates contemporary feminism." Slate's Rebecca Onion, while acknowledging some of the story's faults, noted that "as a meditation on the radical evolution parenthood demands, it's perfect."

With such overwhelming praise, it was only natural that a film adaptation should follow. Written and directed by Marielle Heller, 'Nightbitch' follows a mother (known only as Mother) whose life has changed drastically after the birth of her son (known as Son). She used to be an artist of some renown, but now is a stay-at-home-mum. Her husband (guess what he's known as) travels frequently for work, leaving her to navigate the overwhelming demands of parenthood alone. As the pressures of her new life mount, something strange occurs: Mother believes she is turning into a dog.

On paper, it sounds like a darkly comic, Kafkaesque exploration of identity, motherhood and the primal instincts that lie beneath our civilized facades. However, Heller never allows the story run wild, holding back the leash, as it were. Although there are some comedic, inspired lines of dialogue, and perceptive moments- particularly during Mother's interactions with her group of fellow mothers- there is also quite a bit of pretension, from stilted, preachy monologues to the central character's names- or lack of them.

Additionally, the film doesn't add significantly to the discourse, leaving one out in the cold in the kennel. Heller's examination of female rage and the primal instincts of motherhood, while central to the narrative, don't feel profound or original. The film treads familiar ground without offering new insights or perspectives. Instead of delving deeper into the complexities of its themes, it skims the surface. The story's potential brilliance is diluted by Heller's reluctance to fully embrace the wildness of its premise.

In contrast, Coralie Fargeat's 'The Substance' demonstrated how feminist body horror can be both profound and innovative. While different in style and narrative approach, 'The Substance' similarly explores themes of female identity and bodily transformation, but does so with a raw intensity and originality that 'Nightbitch' sorely lacks. Fargeat's film doesn't shy away from pushing boundaries, providing a visceral, wildly entertaining and thought-provoking experience.

Heller's is simply not in the same league. However, while 'Nightbitch' may fall short of its potential, it is not without merit. It provides a platform for discussing the often-taboo topics of maternal frustration and identity loss, even if it doesn't capitalize on these themes. The film's attempt to balance dark humour with existential dread is ambitious, and although it doesn't really succeed, it does contain moments of genuine insight and resonance.

Moreover, from a technical standpoint, there are elements deserving of praise. Brandon Trost's cinematography is striking, while the score is generally stirring. In addition, Anne McCabe's editing is terrific at generating momentum, while emphasising the banality of Mother's day-to-day life. In addition, the make-up and effects- though not used to the same extent (or to the same effect) as in 'The Substance'- are commendable; if underused.

Furthermore, Amy Adams delivers a powerful lead performance. A consistently accomplished actress, she brings a nuanced blend of vulnerability and ferocity to the role of Mother. Her ability to convey the emotional turmoil of the character is a highlight, making even the film's weaker moments more engaging and impactful. The whole film, in fact, only works because of her; she carries it completely.

Scoot McNairy does typically fine work as Husband, elevating the underwritten part and making him compelling, despite his faults, while twin brothers Emmett and Arleigh Snowden, in their first credited roles as Son, cannot be faulted. Moreover, the great Jessica Harper is criminally underused as a mysterious librarian, stealing the too-few scenes she's in.

In conclusion, Marielle Heller's 'Nightbitch' is a bit of a shaggy-dog story. While it doesn't realize the wild potential of its source material, it contains brief moments of profundity and emotional resonance, and features a terrific central performance from Amy Adams. Boasting fine cinematography, as well as a stirring score, and cannily edited by Anne McCabe, it is worth a watch for fans of Rachel Yoder's novel, even if it will leave one howling for more.