Nightbitch too simple for its own good
Getting off to a fast, rousing start, Marielle Heller’s Nightbitch
falls into a numbing, repetitive pattern that beats the viewer over the
head with its obvious message. Adapted from the novel by Rachel Yoder, the best
part of this primal scream for recognition is an inspired performance by the
always-reliable Amy Adams. Yet, the actress isn’t enough to make what
should have been a short film worthwhile.
Moms are overwhelmed.
That’s the message stated again and again throughout the movie and displayed emphatically during the opening scene. We’re privy to a mother’s
(Adams) internal dialogue in which she is recounting the “Before Times,” when
she had a career as a burgeoning artist, reveled in her independence and was
brimming with fresh ideas. She then concludes, “Now, I’m just dumb.”
Though she passionately loves her young son, raising him has
sucked the life out of her. Her husband (Scoot McNairy) is often away on
business, leaving her to hold down the fort and wrangle their toddler. Always
tired and lacking inspiration, she keeps her ever-growing feelings of
resentment inside. After all, what kind of mother would she be if she were to
complain? Yet, these repressed emotions can’t stay tamped down forever and soon
our heroine is having strange dreams in which she sees herself running the
streets at night as a dog.
Of course, they’re not dreams, which introduces the main
conceit of the film. Only when reduced to a more primal state can she express
herself, a premise that’s initially intriguing but soon wears out its welcome.
Mother goes from bonding with neighborhood canines and getting sharper teeth to eating her meals on all fours.
Obviously, Mother is not alone in her plight; all the other
moms we see are also putting on a brave face as their identities are leached
away. Being either overly enthusiastic or assuming a childlike identity seems
to be the most common coping techniques, all capitulations to being part of the
Mommy Culture, seen here as a cult of denial and obeisance.
Heller and Yoder’s thesis is not without merit, as the role
of the nuclear family mother is a stifling construct. This is never more
obvious than when Mother meets up with former colleagues, only able to
contribute stories about her child’s first words as they go on about their
professional accomplishments. This and other moments of displacement are
salient points, but they’re mentioned so often and in a such a heavy-handed
manner they eventually lose their potency.
In the end, the fact that the movie looks at this complex
problem in such simplistic terms is its Achille’s heel. The resolution seems far too pat and one that
could have been reached in far less time than is taken. And despite Adams’ game
performance, Nightbitch fails to develop its protagonist ‘s unique, transformative powers to their logical, and potentially horrific, conclusion.
In the end, Heller does a disservice to modern mothers by not telling their
story in a more complex, intelligent manner. Streaming on Hulu.
Poignant Unstoppable a cut above other sports movies
On the surface, William Goldenberg’s Unstoppable appears to be just another inspirational sports movie. It focuses on a young
man from a modest background who has the odds stacked against him, both in life
and the arena he has chosen to compete in. And while some successes occur, the
setbacks he faces are more numerous. Only his fervent belief in himself keeps
him going, ultimately leading to success.
Familiar to a fault, what elevates the film is its subject,
Anthony Robles, a young man born with only one leg, who succeeded in becoming a
world-class wrestler.
Based on Robles’ (Jharrel Jerome) autobiography, the film
begins during his senior year in high school, the young man having established
himself as a wrestler to be reckoned with. However, when he doesn’t get a
scholarship from Arizona State University – the leading wrestling school in the
nation – he sets out to get the attention of the head of that program, Coach
Sean Charles (Don Cheadle). Rejecting a full-ride scholarship to Drexel
University, he enrolls at ASU and tries out for the team as a walk-on.
Robles’ home life is not without its challenges as well. His
father out of the picture, his mother, Judy (Jennifer Lopez) ,has married Rick
(Bobby Cannavale), a childish, petty man who never passes up an opportunity to
put Robles down. A failure as a stepfather and husband, he’s also lost his job,
putting the family in jeopardy, their home about to be foreclosed on.
Goldenberg deftly balances the two storylines over the four
years Robles spends at ASU. Inspirational moments are plentiful in each but
never overplayed. A sequence showing Robles’ trying out for the team, doing all
his two-legged rivals do while on crutches, including carrying weights while
running around a track or climbing a rocky outcrop, will move the most
hard-hearted viewer. All the while, Cheadle underplays his growing respect for
the determined young man to great effect, gradually warming to him as he
becomes a dominant force in the program.
With solid support from Michael Pena as Robles’ coach and
Mykelti Williamson as the wrestler’s supportive co-worker, the film never lags
over its two-hour running time. The wrestling sequences are believably
rendered, Goldenberg putting the viewer on the mat with the combatants, not
holding back showing the violent nature of the sport. In doing so we come to
further understand the strength and agility needed to succeed. As a result, we come to appreciate even more
how remarkable Robles’ achievements are.
Ironically, Unstoppable’s most effective moment occurs
away from the mats. A scene in which Judy shares letters written by schoolchildren with Robles proves genuinely moving. Containing innocent, genuine
declarations of praise, more than a few refer to him as a “hero.” Though he
modestly brushes aside these words of praise, we’re reminded that sometimes our
actions and the example we set reach beyond ourselves, their power greater than
we realize. In this moment, Unstoppable justifies its existence. While genuine inspiration and true courage
may be in short supply, films such as this remind us of their necessity and
power. Streaming on Amazon Prime.
This article appears in A critical loss for District 186.
