One of the most anticipated films at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival was *Nightbitch*. Excitement around the film arose from multiple aspects. To begin with, it signifies the return of Marielle Heller, the esteemed director known for *The Diary of a Teenage Girl*, the touching Mr. Rogers biopic *A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood*, and the Oscar-nominated dark comedy *Can You Ever Forgive Me?* Additionally, the film features Amy Adams, a six-time Academy Award nominee celebrated for her ability to excel in both dramatic roles (*The Master*, *Doubt*) and comedic portrayals (*American Hustle*, *Vice*). Lastly, *Nightbitch*, based on Rachel Yoder’s novel, was set to offer Adams a character that would enable her to fully showcase her skills.
As hinted by its title and previewed in its initial trailer, *Nightbitch* chronicles the journey of a middle-aged woman dealing with the suffocating routine of being a stay-at-home mom. The main character, referred to simply as “Mother” (played by Adams), feels confined in the unending cycle of tending to her young son and supporting her husband, the family’s main provider. Approaching her breaking point, she stumbles upon an unexpected sense of freedom when she starts to transform into a dog after tucking her child into bed. The concept recalls elements of Jennifer Kent’s *The Babadook*, heightening hopes for a maternal dramedy that could be both witty and remarkable.
With Heller’s distinctive blend of sharp humor and heartfelt compassion alongside Adams’ knack for fluidly shifting between drama and comedy, *Nightbitch* appeared ready to offer something truly exceptional. Yet, the most astonishing aspect of the film is how restrained it ultimately feels.
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### *Nightbitch* addresses the frustrations of motherhood.
Heller’s screenplay opens strongly, drawing viewers into Mother’s life with a grocery store scene that underscores both the monotonous and unappreciated aspects of her everyday experience. Beneath her courteous smile lurks a burgeoning frustration. When a former coworker, clad in fashionable business attire, inquires how she enjoys staying home with her baby, Mother embarks on a passionate internal dialogue about her unrealized dreams, her anxiety over losing her creativity as an artist, and her fear that there’s no path back to her previous identity. However, the film rewinds to the moment of the inquiry, and this time, she replies with the socially acceptable response: “Yeah. I love it.”
Mother’s love for her son (played by twins Arleigh and Emmett Snowden) is beyond doubt. He’s charming, even when he’s drinking from the toilet or splattering paint on the kitchen walls. Nonetheless, the relentless cycle of breakfast, diapers, bedtime, and library storytime leaves her feeling stifled. Despite genuine invitations from other moms (played by Zoë Chao, Mary Holland, and Archana Rajan), she resists forming bonds, perhaps because accepting their camaraderie would mean fully embracing the limits of her new role.
Her bitterness towards her husband (Scoot McNairy), who personifies weaponized incompetence and emotional ignorance, continues to intensify. Then, her body begins to undergo changes. Heller incorporates elements of body horror with comedic and grotesque flair, reflecting the physical transformations many women face during early motherhood. In one particularly striking scene, Mother discovers a lump on her tailbone that oozes a milky substance, grows hair, and ultimately develops into a tail. The audience at TIFF reacted audibly as Adams extracted fur and pus from her back. Later, when she realizes she has four new nipples appearing down her torso, Mother is not horrified but rather feels empowered by her changing body. These instances pave the way for an exhilarating exploration of self-discovery. Yet, unfortunately, *Nightbitch* never completely embraces its wild aspects.
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### *Nightbitch* lacks the edge it promises.
As Mother starts to embrace her newfound instincts, she finds empowerment in her increasingly animalistic tendencies—running with stray dogs at night, craving raw meat, and lashing out at smug, child-free acquaintances. There’s an enticing build-up as she shifts from dreaming of rebellion to acting on her instincts. However, the film never fully explores the darker, more perilous avenues of its premise.
This is where parallels to Jennifer Kent’s *The Babadook* become inevitable. Both films focus on mothers struggling to meet societal standards, feeling constrained by the sacrifices they must make. Both portray young sons that they love, yet harbor resentment towards. And both delve into the primal forces threatening to overwhelm these women. But while *The Babadook* plunges deep into the terror and darkness of motherhood, *Nightbitch* holds back, refusing to genuinely scare or challenge its audience.
To be fair, *The Babadook* is a horror film, while *Nightbitch* leans more toward a fantastical perspective.