‘Nightbitch’: Toronto Review

Dir: Marielle Heller. US. 2024. 98mins 

Marielle Heller’s fourth feature is a gently observant comedy-drama about the perils of motherhood that could use a little more bite. Adapted from the 2021 novel by Rachel Yoder, Nightbitch stars Amy Adams as a stay-at-home mother who discovers that her body is starting to develop the characteristics of a canine — a revelation that she initially finds terrifying but, later, liberating. 

Playing with elements of body-horror while commenting on how women are marginalised once they give birth

Playing with elements of body-horror while commenting on how women are marginalised once they give birth, the writer-director exudes the same patient, compassionate style that she brought to earlier pictures like The Diary Of A Teenage Girl and A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood. Perfectly exhausted as a stretched-too-thin mother, Adams powers a film which sometimes glides on the surface of a story that feels inherently more anguished and raw.

Searchlight Pictures (which also handled Heller’s Oscar-nominated Can You Ever Forgive Me?) unveils Nightbitch as a Toronto Special Presentation, with a US release planned for December. No doubt the studio will mount an awards campaign for Adams, who becomes legitimately animalistic at certain points. Fans of the novel will be on board, and warm reviews should help bolster arthouse grosses.

Adams’ character is identified only as Mother, and she lives in the anonymous suburbs raising her two-year-old Son (played by both Arleigh Patrick Snowdon and Emmett James Snowdon). Mother used to be an artist but gave up those dreams to start a family, and audiences may be forgiven for assuming she is a single parent — much time passes before we meet Husband (Scoot McNairy), whose career requires him to be constantly on the road. Feeling unappreciated and beleaguered, Mother begins to notice strange fur growing on her back — and perhaps the early formings of a tail. Soon, she exhibits increasingly dog-like behaviour, which seems to tap into her deeply-buried primal nature.

Wearing baggy clothes and sporting permanently unkempt hair, Mother spends all day with Son and, while she loves her boy, Nightbitch makes it clear how tiring parenthood can be. Occasionally, Heller puts us into Mother’s mental state, showing the audience what she would like to say in certain public interactions — for instance, admitting to a former colleague that motherhood has sapped her soul — before cutting back to reality, where Adams’ frozen grin highlights all the indignities her character suffers. With her sad eyes, the actress communicates Mother’s growing loss of identity as her world rapidly shrinks. 

The performance shifts gears once Mother becomes attuned to her canine qualities. When Mother punctures a pus-filled boil or finds hair in the oddest of places, Nightbitch flirts with the Cronenberg-ian – although Heller keeps the ugly to a minimum because she is more concerned with the emotional impact of Mother’s transformation. In no time, Mother is running around the neighbourhood at night, free to be her true self. Over the course of Nightbitch, Adams sheds Mother’s passive demeanour for something a little more spirited. Not only is Mother reassessing motherhood, she will also take stock of her marriage.

Adams’ occasionally ferocious, often bone-weary turn is quite touching, the character telling herself she should be happy when, deep down, she isn’t. One especially affecting scene involves Mother going out to a restaurant to reunite with her art-world friends, learning just how irrelevant she now is to them. Adams delivers a soliloquy that no one at the table hears — Mother might as well be invisible — which says much about the aspects of ourselves we give away in the name of commitment and family. 

As initially intriguing as Mother’s transformation is — both as metaphor and plot twist — Nightbitch does not fully capitalise on that provocative premise, focusing instead on the growing domestic tension between Mother and Husband. These scenes are nicely executed, although they feel a little pedestrian. Likewise, some of the points made about the inequity of motherhood have been stated in other works, to more penetrating effect. 

That said, McNairy is very good as a man who fails to notice that his wife is drowning, slipping easily into accepted gender roles and letting Mother handle the emotional labour in the household. If Mother will come to learn that she needs to shake things up, so too does Husband, finally understanding the damage he has done to their marriage. The film ends on a nuanced final image that hints at how motherhood can both feel like a trap and be fulfilling. Walking that razor’s edge, Adams never lets you forget Mother’s warring love-hate relationship with her role.