Amy Adams’ ‘Nightbitch’ gets it—womanhood is a beast
4/5 nipples.
Do you remember when Katy Perry was asked about collaborating with known abuser Dr. Luke on the Call Her Daddy podcast, but instead of answering the question, she dodged it and went on a bizarre rant about motherhood and spirituality? Nightbitch is sort of like that—if it actually made any damn sense.
2024 has been a jam-packed year for one of my personal favorite horror sub-genres: messy women getting messier. So I knew I had to check out director Marielle Heller’s latest endeavor, Nightbitch, when it screened at AFI Fest over the weekend. While I’d be remiss to call Nightbitch anything more than a comedy-thriller, I’m pleased to report that it certainly does check that box. For the most part, the film flip-flops between drama and comedy surprisingly well, making for a fun watch that will probably have the moms in your theater howling with a sort of melancholic laughter.
Firstly, it’s important to note that Nightbitch is an adaptation of Rachel Yoder’s 2021 novel of the same name. The magical realism elements explored in the book carry over into the movie, but the latter tends to approach things from a more comedic lens—i.e. feeding a toddler raw meat probably isn’t all that funny on paper, but in the film, it’s a goofy visual gag that also works to show our protagonist’s improving relationship with her son as she (reluctantly) comes to terms with her canine side.
Nightbitch the movie stars Amy Adams—who does double duty here as co-producer—as “Mother,” an artist and exhausted stay-at-home mom who becomes convinced that she’s turning into a dog. She starts developing fur, a sharp sense of smell, a craving for meat, and yes, even extra nipples as tensions amplify between her and her beta male husband (Scoot McNairy), whose frequent business trips leave Mother feeling isolated and trapped in a monotonous routine of caring for their son (played by twins Arleigh Patrick Snowden and Emmett James Snowden).
Things get progressively more feral until Mother’s transformation is complete and she frees herself from the shackles of humanity, untamed—it’s like Kafka’s Metamorphosis for people who repost radio station Facebook memes. Nightbitch is also surprisingly violent, so I’m going to go ahead and mark this one as “Not Safe for Cats.” I can appreciate its commitment to the bit, highlighting the uglier parts of being a woman, from menstrual cycles to having to deal with the sheer hubris of men on a daily basis.
Still, at its core, Nightbitch isn’t just playing for laughs, despite Adams’ impeccable comedic timing. It’s a story about motherhood, generational trauma, and a personal need for freedom, which is sadly very relatable for first-time parents—especially women, who are often asked or simply expected to sacrifice their sense of self to raise a family. Even our protagonist’s name is erased in favor of just being “Mother,” as that’s all she is to her husband since she put her career on pause to have a baby.
My only real complaint is that Nightbitch leans a little too much into cliché, and ultimately, resonates as a by-the-book metaphor for reclaiming lost individuality rather than being a thought-provoking critique of gender roles and their relationship to parenthood. I’m fully aware that “Husband” isn’t meant to be the villain here, but similar to my issues with last year’s Barbie, it makes some bold, on-the-nose claims about the burden society places on the shoulders of mothers without really saying anything.
Nightbitch is fun enough to where I still enjoyed watching it, but again, it reeks of the same elder millennial, Katy Perry brand of first-wave feminism that makes its protagonists out to be snarky and mean (“If you wake him up I will rip your throat out”) in a “yay, girlboss!” sort of way, while still demanding we root for them or, at the very least, see their point of view. Again, women don’t have to be cruel to be powerful.
While Mother’s anger is perfectly understandable, we don’t see much of her actual character growth. One moment, she’s mocking the moms at mommy-baby storytime; the next, they’re practically sisters. In the process, Mother has all but severed her connection to her “cool,” mostly child-free group of friends from art school. She just doesn’t relate to her colleagues anymore, but it feels like the point is to bash women who choose not to go down the route of motherhood. Really, I could just be reading into it too much—is it not enough to watch Amy Adams snarl and run around on all fours?!
I think there was a real opportunity here to celebrate women in Nightbitch, and in its own flawed way, it does. We could always use more messy female characters in media—just perhaps, with a little more nuance. I’m glad Mother got her happy ending, and I’m glad that even I, a person who doesn’t want kids, was able to feel Something from its pointed commentary on gender inequality and the patriarchy. The palpable frustration in Nightbitch is something all modern women can relate to, but oh boy, does it make me excited to see how Gen Z tackles similar subject matter next.
Nightbitch will premiere in cinemas on December 6, 2024.
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