Of all the human experiences, motherhood is a particularly visceral one. There's childbirth, of course, but then there are the the struggles that follow: insomnia, feeding, pee and poo, and emotional highs and lows.
Nightbitch interprets the primal qualities of motherhood in a cheekily literal way, as the unnamed Mother (Amy Adams) finds herself quite literally transforming into a dog while being a stay-at-home mom for her toddler. The similarly nameless Husband (Scoot McNairy) goes on frequent work trips, leaving Mother to bear the full responsibility of caring for their kid (referred to, you guessed it, simply as Son).
Frustration bubbles over into barely suppressed rage during infuriatingly cheerful Baby Book Time at the library, and the Mother's animalistic anger begins manifesting as canine symptoms: she has patches of fur, sprouts a tail during a gross and very pus-y scene involving a sterilized needle, and begins digging holes in the yard in the nighttime. At the playground, she's followed around by a pack of neighbourhood dogs.
The body horror and magical realism are the most exciting things about Nightbitch, and I found myself wishing screenwriter/director Marielle Heller leaned harder into those elements, rather than giving viewers quite so many scenes in which the Son is being annoying and refusing to go to sleep. (The fact that I found the Son irritating is, of course, the whole point.)
Adams commits completely to the role: she's as raw as possible, shoving her face into piles of meat and leaving a visible whisker sprouting out of a mole on her chin. It's truly remarkable to see an A-list celebrity willing to look this unglamorous for an entire film, and Adams goes practically feral for Nightbitch.
Scoot McNairy's role isn't quite as demanding, but he does a great job at bringing depth to a stick character. He's initially the "helpless husband" cliché of a cold medication commercial, but he's eventually given some tender character development, with McNairy empathetically conveying the Husband's own struggles and confusion.
"Motherhood is a bitch," goes the tagline of the poster. Nightbitch certainly conveys the pain of being a mom, but it does it with a biting sense of surreal humour that makes it fun as well.