Nightbitch

Marielle Heller’s adaptation of Rachel Yoder’s Nightbitch tackles the existential terrors of motherhood with a sharp blend of satire and absurdity, yet struggles to fully deliver the visceral body horror of its source material. 

Anchored by Amy Adams’ stellar performance, the film explores the raw and often unspoken frustrations of motherhood, where societal pressures and personal identity collide in chaotic, sometimes surreal ways. At its core, Nightbitch is about transformation - both metaphorical and literal. 

Adams plays a young mother whose life is upended after the birth of her child. She begins to feel an inexplicable, primal connection to the world of dogs, believing she’s transforming into one. 

This bizarre premise - rooted in the chimera myth of Indra, where identities blur and coexist - sets the stage for a darkly comedic exploration of the psyche of a woman who feels alienated from her old self. The film touches on the doubts about motherhood, the loss of individuality, and the simmering resentments between moms who silently judge one another.

Heller deftly highlights the absurdity of these tensions, injecting the narrative with sharp satire. The “moms hating moms” trope becomes both a critique of societal expectations and a hilarious, biting commentary on the unspoken competition many mothers feel. 

Yet, amidst the humour, the film doesn’t shy away from its darker themes. Marriage frays under the weight of parental responsibilities, and miscommunication between wife and husband builds a quiet chasm. The movie provides a rare perspective on the male experience, subtly examining how men can feel excluded from parenthood, though this subplot remains secondary to the protagonist’s journey.

While the book’s body horror elements - described in visceral, unsettling detail - are somewhat muted in the film, Heller uses them as a symbolic exploration of anger and frustration. 

While visually striking, scenes of physical transformation, lack the haunting impact of the novel’s descriptions. Instead, the movie leans on mockery, making the surreal more palatable but less terrifying. This tonal shift works for the film’s comedic edge but may disappoint fans of the book’s more grotesque intensity.

Amy Adams delivers one of her most nuanced performances, embodying a woman teetering on the edge of collapse and liberation. Her rage, exhaustion, and eventual acceptance of her dual identity as mother and individual are portrayed with unflinching authenticity. 

She perfectly captures the transition from resentment - where the demands of children seem to siphon away her essence - to an understanding that being a mother doesn’t mean erasing who you are.

The film’s most poignant metaphor is the role of dogs. Representing both freedom and comfort, they serve as a symbol of the untamed life the protagonist yearns for while offering her solace in moments of despair.  They remind her of the wildness she’s buried under layers of societal expectations and maternal guilt.

As a body horror movie, it fails to achieve the deep-down impact fans of the novel might expect. But as an irony of modern motherhood, it excels, offering a bold and unflinching statement: being a mother doesn’t mean abandoning yourself - it means learning to find balance amidst the chaos. 

For all its flaws, Nightbitch is a howl worth hearing.