Nightbitch 2024 Movie Review

Coming into Nightbitch after watching the trailer, I didn’t know what to expect. Teen Wolf meets 20th Century Women with a sprinkle of The Shaggy Dog? Would it go full-on horror? What I didn’t anticipate was the film being so much more than I ever expected. It’s a film about a mother’s need for freedom, and it’s a message that resonates.

Nightbitch, which premiered at TIFF, is a ferocious and unafraid exploration of motherhood—the chaos, the loss of self, the sleepless nights. As someone who became a new mom last year, I ate up the unfiltered look at the pieces of motherhood that are often silenced, stigmatized, and considered as taboo as female sexuality. It’s as if writer-director Marielle Heller (A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood and Can You Ever Forgive Me?) reached into my brain and plucked out all the messy, confusing, unspeakable, and even dark emotions I often feel too ashamed to admit. Let’s be real: this film will be divisive. But regardless of its shortcomings, it’s skirting a narrative we so rarely see, and need more of.

Amy Adams plays the role of the unnamed stay-at-home Mother. We watch as the days spent caring for her son (Arleigh and Emmett Snowden) bleed together, the monotony of her routine becoming inescapable. Of course, Heller’s montage peppers in plenty of joy-filled moments, balancing the mundane and messy with the unconditional love that binds parent and child.

While her love for her son is undeniable, a creeping sense of dread and frustration gnaws at her. Her husband (Scoot McNairy)—notably called “Husband” and not “Father”—is frequently away on business trips. Even when he’s home, he expects her to handle everything, which is isolating and claustrophobic. A simple act of self-care a la an uninterrupted shower is simply not her reality. It’s clear that Mother, once a thriving artist, yearns for a life beyond the confines of motherhood.

Nightbitch is feral and filled with humor. Through Mother’s internal narration, the film gives a voice to the dichotomy of motherhood: It’s the hardest and most wonderful thing. It’s giving everything while craving a piece of yourself back. It’s the unconditional love that fills your heart but also drains it. It’s losing your old identity but finding a stronger one. It’s the joy of watching your child grow, paired with the guilt of feeling inadequate. As Mother’s discontent intensifies, she becomes convinced she’s turning into a dog. Yes, a dog. Her tailbone sprouts odd hairs, her sense of smell sharpens, local dogs follow her like a pack, and dead animals lay at her doorstep like sacrificial offerings. What’s a girl to do but embrace the fur and extra nipples? It starts as a playful game—sharing meals with her son from a dog bowl—but soon mutates into something more animalistic and untamed. Surrendering to her primal urges, Mother sheds her human constraints, embracing the wild abandon and freedom she so desperately craves.

Mother’s transformation should drive the story, but it feels like the film gets lost in its own grand ambitions. I wish Heller had fully embraced the weirdness and whole dog narrative, which feels like a footnote. Childbirth is so primal, so raw. It’s bloody…violent, even. But it’s also powerful and transformative. Nightbitch could have really leaned into the body horror and unpacked the deeper societal issues at play. It’s riddled with potential—but its execution falls just a bit short. The magical realism feels underdeveloped, and the supporting characters feel more like caricatures. Heller manages to tackle some complex issues with a surprising level of sincerity and humor, offering insight into motherhood while ensuring the more outlandish moments feel authentic and real, and I wanted more of that.

Amy Adams brings so much grace and strength to this role. Her comedic timing is spot-on, and the way she shifts between warring sides of herself, from warmth to resentment, from tender to ferocious and unapologetic, is truly a delight to watch.

Nightbitch is bold, funny, and slightly outrageous. It’s a love letter to moms everywhere—a celebration of their strength, resilience, and the sacrifices they make. It’s a reminder that motherhood doesn’t have to stifle our individuality. It can be a source of freedom, creativity, and personal growth. It wasn’t perfect, but it’s a step in the right direction. My heart felt full walking out of the theater, and I hope it’s one of many stories to come that give a voice to the real experiences of mothers.