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We’ve Gotta Cool It With the Amy Adams Oscar Stuff
Nightbitch is perfectly acceptable commercial cinema and shouldn’t suffer because it won’t win Amy Adams her long-awaited Oscar.
She puts to great use her well-honed ability to play characters whose fresh-faced optimism masks deep wells of betrayal (see also: her naive young nun at the end of Doubt; the duped artist of Big Eyes) or loss (her haunted linguist in Arrival). As a character credited only as “Mother,” she plays a woman experiencing motherhood as its own kind of betrayal, one robbing her of her ambitions as a visual artist, her once-beguiling personality, and as she deals with the pee and poop and everyday terrors of parenthood, her dignity. If the rough edges and unsatisfying structure of Nightbitch end up keeping awards voters from embracing Adams’ performance, there will be those who chalk up the film as yet another failure on the actress’ part to get that coveted golden statue.
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