Nightbitch is a surrealist exploration on life as a parent, particularly a mother, in capitalist society which raises important questions but falls short of providing any answers, writes Lucy Nichols

Nightbitch, starring Amy Adams, follows an alienated full-time mother who is liberated from her life by being freed from her human form. It is an entertaining and thought-provoking adaption of the novel by Rachel Yoder.

The film is an exploration of what it is to be a full-time mother, with plenty of surrealism thrown in too. A comedy-horror, Nightbitch does well at the former but not so much at the latter, unless you are scared of the life of an exhausted ‘trad-wife’ (a movement wherein women are ostensibly very happy and willing to be 1950s-style housewives, made popular by stylish TikTok posts and cooking videos).

There are body-horror elements present, and the popular trope of ‘person turns into animal’ is used in an interesting way: yes, the mother turns into a dog as a reflection of her alienation, but here this is a tool to liberate rather than trap her (see Kafka’s The Metamorphosis).

There are instances of surrealism aside from the main character’s transformation into a dog by night. These reveal the extent of her imprisonment. She often speaks but is not heard, or monologues are delivered but then revealed to have taken place inside her head. At one point, she is so desperate as to slap her husband, but this is also given little thought by him.

An early scene depicting the mother making the same breakfast every day for her toddler reveals the monotony of her life and the smallness of her world.

Her very being revolves around her child and her husband (Scoot McNairy). The husband/father is away for work for days at a time and is emotionally as well as physically absent, though is not a bad person. He tries his best to understand his wife’s frustration but is ultimately unhelpful and incompetent when it comes to childcare, which of course adds to her anger and helplessness.

None of these three main characters are given a name: they are the mother, the father and the baby, and could therefore be any mother, any father and any baby. They are all white, from a comfortably middle-class background in the suburbs of an unnamed American city. There is very little that is different or defining about the father, whose job is also not noted.

The mother is slightly more interesting: she was an artist prior to having a child, and we are given some insight into her ultra-religious (perhaps Amish or Mormon) childhood, but this is poorly done and it is not particularly clear why she needs to be from this background for the story to work.

Then, there is her transformation into a dog, which is the key plot point in the film. She gradually becomes hairy, grows sharp canines and develops a liking for raw meat. One night, she transforms totally and proceeds to run with a pack of other dogs by night. Here, she is exonerated from her monotonous life and this becomes a springboard for her to make other drastic changes.

The film ends on a cheerful note, with a fairytale ending that makes one wonder what the point of the film’s social commentary was in the first place.

Nightbitch has been somewhat lazily adapted from its original form as a novel, with subtle details from the book either lost, convoluted, or ruined in the film.

It is glaringly liberal in its final analysis, but raises important questions on what it means to be a parent – particularly a mother – in a world where it is increasingly difficult to have children, given soaring childcare costs, low wages, climate catastrophe and endless capitalist crisis.

Nightbitch is now available on Disney+

From this month’s Counterfire freesheet