‘The Good Nurse’: Toronto Review

Dir: Tobias Lindholm. US. 2022. 121 mins.

As a director, Tobias Lindholm tends to be drawn to ambiguities, to the grey areas. The murky morality of combat in A War, the cynical manoeuvring behind the scenes of A Hijacking. In contrast, the subject of The Good Nurse – a hospital health worker who uses his position of trust to kill, in cold blood, a number of his patients – would seem to be less complex. Evil is evil, after all. But this superbly acted thriller – Jessica Chastain and Eddie Redmayne both shine – is every bit as textured and knotty as his previous work. The empathetic colleague, the unflappable nurse coexists with something unfathomably cruel. But, the film argues, there are two villains in this piece. One is a murderer. The other, the corporate healthcare system which would rather turn a blind eye to the crimes rather than risk taking a hit to the balance sheets.

Every bit as textured and knotty as Lindholm’s previous work

The film, which is Danish director Lindholm’s first English-language picture, is based on a real-life case, of a Pennsylvania nurse who worked in multiple hospitals and killed an unknown number of patients, possibly as many as four hundred. The screenplay was adapted from the book by Charles Graeber, by British screenwriter Krysty Wilson-Cairns (Oscar-nominated for her work on 1917) whose lean, low-key approach to the story gels well with Lindholm’s sober, serious directing style. Netflix is set to release The Good Nurse on its platform in October, with any theatrical showcase yet to be confirmed.

In what turns out to be a highly effective piece of casting, the film takes Chastain and Redmayne – both actors whose performances tend to be on the larger, showier side – and buttons them up into roles which are all about restraint and constraint. Both are excellent. Chastain plays Amy, an emergency nurse on the night shift and a single mother to two young daughters. She suffers from a serious heart complaint, cardiomyopathy, but needs to keep working in order to secure health insurance to pay for treatment which will save her life. Exertion, stress, fatigue – it can all trigger an attack of breathlessness and racing pulse. As the film unfolds, the colour seems to drain out of her, until she’s almost translucent.

Her friendship with the new nurse on her shift, Charlie (Redmayne), is more than emotional support – he becomes her crutch, her confidante. In his low, serene bedside voice he reassures her that she will get through the next few months in order to secure her healthcare, because he, Charlie, will make sure that she does. Always a physically expressive actor, Redmayne works wonders with the tiniest of gestures: a finger that claws itself into his arm as he impassively watches a resuscitation attempt; a muscle that twitches in his cheek.

The score, a rising tide of anxiety, gives an indication that something is amiss, but the camerawork – brisk, clinical, efficient – eschews any tension-building tricks in favour of allowing the subtleties of the performances shine through. Two extraordinary scenes stand out. One unfolds at Amy’s home, with Charlie, voice oily with empathy, reminding her to eat the food he prepared, and Amy, blanched with fear, navigating her knowledge of his crimes while attempting small talk. The other takes place in a police holding cell in which Charlie is being questioned. Redmayne repeats a single phrase, over and over. And before our eyes, this seemingly humane man, with his gentle voice, suddenly becomes inhuman.