Nightbitch | London Film Festival Review

It isn’t the be-all and end-all, but it’s certainly fair to say a title can so often make or break a film. Too bland and audiences could so easily sleep on you. Too convoluted and there’s a high chance your film could meet a similar fate. Too outrageous or ostentatious and you’re potentially setting yourself up for a rather large fall.

So, when the brash and admirably ballsy title – Nightbitch – dropped as if from nowhere, expectations were instantly dialled up to the max. Throw Amy Adams and a genuinely batshit premise into the mix and you have a potential classic on your hands. You just don’t call your film something that brazen unless you’re ready to deliver the goods, right?

Having paused her career to be a suburban stay-at-home mum, a former artist (Amy Adams) seeks a new chapter in her life and encounters just that. When her nightly routine takes a surreal turn, her maternal instincts begin to manifest in canine form. Slowly embracing the feral power deeply rooted in motherhood, she becomes increasingly aware of the bizarre and undeniable signs that she may actually be turning into a dog.

There are so many ways a concept as overtly bizarre as Nightbitch’s could’ve gone. At its core, the film is a pointed critique of maternity and a fantastical feminist fable, on another it’s a broad comedy about the utter lunacy of motherhood, and on the other (let’s say paw), it’s a potentially freaky body horror about the inherent terror of it all.

Considering this, Nightbitch’s potential is pretty huge, with a concept that leaves tonnes of room for genre manoeuvring; however, while the potential is certainly there for something great, there’s just as much that could go wrong. Under different filmmakers and different circumstances, Nightbitch literally could’ve landed anywhere, but, as something of a relief, under the stewardship of Marielle Heller, the film avoids disaster to nestle somewhere safely in the middle of it all.

Middle-of-the-road may sound like a harsh assessment of what Marielle Heller has done with Nightbitch but the truth is, while there’s plenty to appreciate about the film, it unfortunately suffers from being caught between ideas. Whether it stems from the studio, Heller herself, or just the pressures that come from adapting a beloved novel, there seems to be a general air of confusion around what to do with Nightbitch, what direction to send it in, and how exactly to sell it; highlighted by a trailer that weirdly pitches it as a wacky slapstick comedy, something that feels far from the truth.

The comedy is certainly there in Nightbitch, and with such an odd, naturally humorous setup you’d kind of hope so, however, what we end up with is, mercifully, nowhere near what the trailers sold us on. When the comedy does come, some of it leans into the inherent physical nature of the concept, yet it largely, and successfully, stems from the incongruous, absurd, and frequently infuriating moments Amy Adam’s mum must put up with daily as she constantly battles herself and her exasperating childcare situation.

These witty observations and incisive commentaries on the utter insanity of motherhood and the struggles of womanhood in a world still struggling to shift from its ridged patriarchal structures, are what make Nightbitch tick. As Amy Adam’s (oddly unnamed) mum grits her teeth through migraine-inducing toddler play sessions, sleepless nights in the same bed as her son, and exasperation at having to communicate with Scoot McNairy’s (also unnamed) blissfully ignorant dad, the film manages to successfully blend the inherent comedy of the setup with a healthy dose of heartfelt, earnest drama.

Sure, there’s some slapstick comedy along the way, but certainly nowhere near the levels the trailer suggests, and, in all honesty, these moments of physical humour are perhaps the film’s weakest elements. Of course, a film about a mum turning into a dog is always going to possess its fair share of broad, physical humour, yet Nightbitch refuses to go as hard as it probably could with it.

So, while the film is a warm and astutely written observational comedy about motherhood, it’s the physical side of Nightbitch’s approach that really fails to land. For a film to sport such a bold title and even bolder concept, you really do have to deliver on your promises, however, while Nightbitch does well to carry things so far, it really struggles to take it any further than that.

The film, as a whole, feels far too safe. The very concept of a woman gradually transforming into a dog as a metaphor for motherhood brings with it so much potential for physical comedy and/or horror, yet Nightbitch picks neither lane, resulting in something that feels distinctly ordinary.

Perhaps there’s something to be said for not leaning too heavily into the comedic silliness of the film’s concept, as there’s always the risk that it could fall flat (in much the same way the film’s trailer did), but with a setup ripe for body horror potential, we get almost nothing. Where there is ample space to go full-Cronenberg with something akin to The Fly or even something along the lines of American Werewolf in London, Nightbitch shies away from the transformation horror at every turn.

As good as Nightbitch is at addressing and engaging with its issues, the fact that it refuses to hammer them home with an approach that’s a little more adventurous feels like a real missed opportunity. The build-up to the dog transformations is good, however, when these scenes do arrive, barring one specific moment of satisfying gross-out squishiness, they underwhelm, as cutaways, nondescript editing, and a distinct absence of freakiness leave it wanting.

This lack of freakiness is a real shame, as Marielle Heller certainly has it in her to push the boat out, yet, for whatever reason, it hasn’t quite materialised. Despite this, Heller continues to prove that she is quite the filmmaking talent, with Nightbitch displaying flashes of style and visual aptitude without ever really taking things to the next level.

For her part, Amy Adams does an incredible job elevating the material, and while Nightbitch doesn’t go nearly as hard as it could (or perhaps should), the same cannot be said of Adams, who positively launches herself into the role. Balancing her customarily deft handle of the film’s drama with the physicality (when it comes) and lightness of touch required from the comedy, Adams is an absolute force.

Supported ably by the always reliable Scoot McNairy, who does rather well with what could’ve easily turned into a gormless husband caricature, Amy Adams delivers her finest performance in quite some time, as she offers full commitment to the zany concept without losing sight of the heart and soul of her character. In a lesser actor’s hands, there’s every chance Nightbitch fails, however, Adams manages to elevate everything with a performance that will undoubtedly garner attention come awards season.

An effective, witty, on-the-nose allegory for the fear, trauma, and messy changes inherent in motherhood, Nightbitch may not live up to its bonkers title, but it succeeds where it needs to. While it’s undoubtedly too safe with its barking mad concept, with Amy Adams in rare form and some smart, well-balanced direction from Marielle Heller, Nightbitch is a quietly successful adaptation that will give you pause (or should that be paws?) for thought.

Score: ★ ★ ★ ½