Nightbitch, directed by Marielle Heller, is a new film inspired by the debut novel of Iowa City based author Rachel Yoder. I was able to attend a screening of the film during the Refocus Film Festival. I had walked into Nightbitch full of hope. Perhaps it was the energy in the atmosphere, with so many personal friends of Yoder in attendance. The pre-show gathering, put on by FilmScene, was filled with glimmering excitement, loud and crowded. The preamble to the movie hyped it up as a true hometown film, and then I was sorely disappointed.
I have not read the book, nor do I know Yoder herself, so I was truly watching the film with fresh, unbiased eyes. I remember watching a sneak preview of the film a few months back, with it having a large focus on what the title implies, a mother turning into a dog, the beastliness surrounding motherhood, and a lot of imagery of raw meat. What I was actually met with when watching the film was more of a banal stream of thought, with dog imagery intermittently sprinkled in. There are a few shots of something close to body horror: Amy Adams growing fur, a tail, fangs – but rarely does the film actually delve into the idea or character of Nightbitch.
Instead, the movie is dragged along by monologues about motherhood, more so about how a capitalist society treats mothers as a whole or comparing them to goddesses than truly delving into any ideas of motherhood being animalistic. The film also introduced characters that never fully develop, such as a group of young moms who turn from stereotypes used for satire to Mother’s best friends. Father, Mother’s husband, is disdained by Mother for most of the film for his unequal role in parenting and lack of support he shows Mother, only to have a sudden realization at the end of the film that he needs to be a better parent and partner, where then Mother and Father act like nothing ever happened.
Overall, the film gives us a little bit of everything, and a whole lot of nothing. It lightly taps into the dog and goddess metaphors, marriage dynamics, the idea that raising a child takes a village, and the importance of art, but never sticks to a plot point long enough to be meaningful. It is tonally a mess. You’re never going to replicate an entire book in a 1 hour and 38 minute film, so the filmmakers should have either gravitated to a singular plot idea and produced a film around that, or leaned more into adopting abstraction and made this an art film, rather than trying to be Hollywood friendly.
Embracing the idea that motherhood is a violently transformative experience requires more than a few brief moments of body horror and a handful of dialogue lines, constantly interrupted with platitudes on feminism and quips taken right from a late night sitcom. All of the pieces were there, Yoder is a great storyteller and Amy Adams is a fantastic actress, but when put together, there is no bark and no bite.
