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Motherhood – it’s one of those notions that, in the minds of many, is sacrosanct, inviolable and beyond reproach. Or is it? Indeed, isn’t it possible that some women who find themselves in this role aren’t cut out for it and innately regret having taken that step? “How dare they!” intolerant critics might exclaim. However, as this latest offering from writer-director Marielle Heller illustrates, there are those who feel motherhood is a calling they’re not cut out for and may, at best, feel highly ambivalent about. Such is the case of a former artist-turned-stay-at-home-mom (Amy Adams) who clearly loves her young son (Arleigh Patrick Snowden/Emmett James Snowden) but who also finds this role inherently limiting and creatively stifling, leaving her frustrated and unsure what to do. She also feels she doesn’t get the support and understanding that she needs from her husband (Scoot McNairy), prompting her to believe she’s trapped by her circumstances – like an animal. In fact, it’s a sensibility that gradually begins to manifest itself as more than just something out of her imagination, a surreal experience that reveals her “dog-ged” determination to find answers and solutions. Consequently, inexplicable changes in behavior arise that she desperately needs to understand, particularly if she wants to hold on to her sanity and remain a responsible and grounded parent. The protagonist thus launches into an odyssey of exploring the nature of motherhood, a multifaceted, occasionally contradictory exercise whose diverse realizations are often difficult to sort out – and one that’s simultaneously rife with an array of both frightening and inventively comedic possibilities. What’s most impressive about this film, though, is its uncompromising honesty in addressing its subject, an approach that yields a realistically revelatory view of the concept of motherhood, one that (as the protagonist so astutely observes) shows it as being about “more than just sunshine and baby powder.” While it’s true that the narrative sometimes tries to cover a little too much ground and doesn’t always link its assorted observations as effectively or cogently as it might have, it nevertheless uncovers the heartfelt beliefs that some women sincerely hold about being mothers, outlooks that the blinder-clad Pollyannas among us might consider inconceivable or even heretical despite their intrinsic truthfulness and viability. Credit the authenticity behind this the filmmaker and to Adams, who turns in yet another stellar portrayal, one that has already earned her an Independent Spirit Award nomination for best lead performance and could well lead to yet another Oscar nod. Kudos also go out to McNairy, as well as the two young brothers cast in the role of the son, all of whom provide superb support. To be sure, “Nightbitch” may not appeal to everyone, and some could even find it shocking in some regards. But at least the picture doesn’t try to pull any punches, and there’s much to be said for that given the prevailing naïve and unassailable qualities often associated with the idea of what it’s actually like to be a mom.

Amy Adams really does throw herself into this as mother to a young lad whom she looks after whilst her husband (Scoot McNairy) goes to work - frequently for many nights at a time. There's no suggestion of infidelity, but gradually she begins to feel the strains of this relentless young lad's activities. He rarely wants to sleep, is always full of beans and has a penchant for repeating the odd expletive at exactly the wrong time! It's when she starts to notice some unwanted bodily hair, then some seemingly enlarged incisors that she begins to worry if she isn't undergoing some sort of transformation. All of a sudden, dogs start to show a special interest in her and she and their youngster start to play doggy a great deal more... She also finds herself experiencing flash-backs of her own mother and of her erratic behaviour. Might it be something in the genes? It's Adams's performance that stands out here, otherwise it's a really disappointing attempt at an horror story that falls between a multitude of stools. The character - few actually have names - vacillates between adoring mother (and, occasionally, wife) and maniac entertainingly enough for a while but then it becomes repetitive to no end. Sure, she's exhausted with her childcare responsibilities but why is that different to any other parent (not necessarily a mother) when faced with a child keen to explore and prone to tantrums. The marital relationship is presented in an wholly skewed fashion as if poor old Scoot - who was missing large chunks of their son's development - was somehow in clover whist she sacrificed her life and career as the "home-maker". In the end, once the humour had subsided, I found this a rather dull rant of a movie that contrived to suggest that this was a woman unique amongst parents, and that motherhood was somehow more visceral than fatherhood. What horror elements there are are entirely undeveloped and by the end I was just a bit bored. I did like the exhibits in her gallery, though - ideal for the Christmas tree, and the young lad (I think there were twins) was the real star of the proceedings.