'Nightbitch' Review

Nightbitch had its World Premiere at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. Searchlight Pictures will release it in theaters on December 06.

“Motherhood is a bitch” reads the tagline for Nightbitch, the feature film adaptation of author Rachel Yoder’s much-raved 2021 novel. It comes as a warning to us all, but not in the form the overzealous marketing (including an incredibly divisive trailer) would have led us to believe. Motherhood can be a trapdoor for some people, with the promises of the beauty of fertility and providing for others being switched out for restless nights, little appreciation, and the slipping sense that you are your own person. It turns women into a primordial version of themselves, a state where self-preservation triumphs over self-actualization.

And in the case of Nightbitch (both the novel and the film), motherhood being a bitch is also a warning that there may be a slight chance you start turning into a dog after having children. Only slight! It first starts with patches of fur and a heightened sense of smell for our unnamed Mother (Amy Adams). Her newborn boy is now a two-year-old, and those very long two years have worn her down. When she sees a friend in the supermarket, they ask her if she loves being a mother. In one of several instances of writer/director Marielle Heller’s comically-intuned editing, Mother goes into a long tirade about its pitfalls akin to America Ferrera’s speech in Barbie. But once she’s gotten that off her chest, we cut back to reality and at the start of the initial question, only for Mother to answer with a simple “I love it!”

This exchange represents the heart that Heller is digging for in the next 90-ish minutes. There is so much about motherhood that cannot be discovered until it is experienced, with society not allowing women to talk about what they have to go through every day. Or, if someone does lend an ear, it’s usually in the form of her husband (Scoot McNairy), who, while always having a loving interest, never gives the full attention and consideration required. Both of them just float through their existence, one shouting into the void and the other turning the other way.

Once the breaking point is reached for Mother, that’s when her animal instincts come out. In a page out of the Animorphs book series, Mother transforms into a red husky at night, running with a pack of dogs doing all sorts of canine things. She comes back to the human world covered in leaves and smelling of blood, and also with a sense of freedom that could only be achieved by fully cutting loose.

Is this transformation literal, or just a metaphorical representation of postpartum depression and body changes? The clues lead to it being literal, but Heller never dives enough into the deep end for it to be conclusive. There are more than a few moments of kookiness (the ones promised in the trailer) where this movie could distance itself from the many other stories about womanhood and maternity, but there’s a refusal from Heller to really through us for a loop. Her intentions and emotions are authentic, something that shouldn’t be a surprise considering her filmography which includes Can You Ever Forgive Me? and A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.

Someone who does cut loose is Adams, devouring the meat of this performance with gusto. Her character fears becoming invisible, but it’s impossible not to see what Adams is bringing to the table, which ranges from soulfully teary monologues to devouring rabbits on the front lawn. Backing her up is an enigmatic performance from Jessica Harper as the local librarian and a trio of neighborly moms (Zoe Chao, Mary Holland, and Archana Ryan) that provide some excellent moments of comic relief.

They often say less is more, but in the case of Nightbitch, more would have been more. A little more zaniness here and a little more directness there would have lifted this well-meaning story out of the crowded category labeled “just fine.” A woman turning into a dog isn’t exactly doing just fine, and neither should a film with such promise as this.