There is a thin line between ambition and madness.
“What if my problem wasn’t that I don’t understand people but that I don’t like them? What if I was the kind of person who was obliged to hurt you for this? I mean physically. I think you’d have to believe afterward, if you could, that agreeing to participate and then backing out at the critical moment was a mistake. Because that’s what I’m telling you, as clearly as I can.” -Lou Bloom, Nightcrawler
In Nightcrawler, directed and written by Dan Gilroy, Jake Gyllenhaal dances so effortlessly on that line that it seems to disappear completely. The film is a fascinating albeit disturbing glimpse into the mind of a man whose goal is to break into the cutthroat world of local tv news. The movie is a stinging indictment of the reality tv/twitter-verse/”If-it-bleeds-it-leads” culture that often characterizes the local news, but more than that, it is a captivating and thought-provoking thriller warning what can happen when a shooter forgets what’s on the other side of the lens.
Note: this review contains spoilers. They’re vague, but consider yourself warned.
Parental caveats: this film is rated R, and there is plenty of blood and gore to justify the rating, in addition to the mature plot themes. Shoot: Gyllenhaal’s creepy eyes alone are enough to give punkins nightmares. Rodalena recommends this film be seen by adults only.
Bill Paxton returns as Simon from True Lies.
The film’s direction, cinematography, and score are nearly perfect. The score is actually a subtle but huge aspect of this film: the music is as controlled and diabolical as the main character. The script has plenty of meat for the actors to chew on (except for Riz Ahmed, whose character Rick the Obligatory Sidekick is written predictably, which is depressing, because Riz does a great job with what little he got).
The major performances are very good in this movie. Bill Paxton is never better than when he’s playing that slimeball Simon from True Lies, and this performance solidifies him as the man to call if you’ve got a sleeze in your screenplay.
“I’m the idiot box. I’m the TV. I’m the all-seeing eye and the world of the cathode ray. I’m the boob tube. I’m the little shrine the family gathers to adore.’
‘You’re the television? Or someone in the television?’
‘The TV’s the altar. I’m what people are sacrificing to.’
‘What do they sacrifice?’ asked Shadow.
‘Their time, mostly,’ said Lucy. ‘Sometimes each other.’ She raised two fingers, blew imaginary gunsmoke from the tips. Then she winked, a big old I Love Lucy wink.
‘You’re a God?’ said Shadow.
Lucy smirked, and took a ladylike puff of her cigarette. ‘You could say that,’ she said.” -Neil Gaiman, American Gods
Rene Russo (who is defying time and gravity-the woman is still just gorgeous) is great as the soulless news director of an L.A. local news show whose ratings aren’t making anyone happy. She’s all-in in this role, and her passion is a good counterpart to Jake Gyllenhaal’s cold calculation.
But, it’s Gyllenhaal who is riveting as Lou Bloom. I can’t decide if Gilroy’s intent when writing the character was to praise his drive and tenacity or vilify his absolute lack of humanity. Somehow, Jake makes you both admire and revile Lou Bloom as he goes from smarmy, uncertain, and unemployed to heartless, confident, and self-made. His character is a modern-day WeeGee, an ambulance chaser with a cheap camera racing to beat the first responders. Through his lens, he shoots his victims without passion or mercy and sells the tapes to Rene Russo’s Nina, who is chomping at the bit for something graphic and sensational. He walks boldly into the blood and shines his invasive camera light on the injured, the hurt, and the dying because “if it bleeds, it leads.”
“If I had a picture of two handcuffed criminals being booked, I would cut the picture in half and get five bucks for each.” – Weegee
I wanted to excuse Lou Bloom: his character is introduced as a lonely misunderstood but ambitious guy, doing whatever he can to make it in L.A. Maybe he’s on the autism spectrum, or maybe finding gainful employment in L.A. is such a daunting task that it turns people into sociopaths. But as I watched him interact with Nina and Rick, his homeless “intern”, my sympathy for his character evaporated: Gyllenhaal mesmerized like Bryan Cranston’s Walter White in Breaking Bad. The character repulsed me, and yet I was amazed by the performance. Lou Bloom is one of the scariest characters I’ve seen on film in a long time.
Photography and marksmanship have an eerie similarity that this movie brilliantly shows: the lens can often become a wall. Somehow, the mind often views what’s seen through a lens as less-than-real, even if the subject is standing only a few yards away and we can hear them breathing. Somehow, violence viewed on a screen or through a lens becomes easy to tolerate, less real and more like a simulation. It can often become easy to change the name of the animal or person on the other side of that wall to Target. (In the case of the military and situations demanding the use of a weapon in self-defense, this disconnect can be a real and necessary help in protecting the innocent.) But Lou’s motivation was not to protect the innocent, it was to exploit them. In fact, it’s so much worse than that: Lou could smell the suffering, he could hear it, In some cases, he could have even prevented the suffering of the innocent, but instead, Lou did his level best to get it all on film so he could sell it. In his drive to get the story, he did not care about the human beings he shot at all. By the end of the film, nothing distinguishes him from the criminals whose carnage he films, save the shape of the weapon attached to the lens they carry.
“The Roots of Violence: Wealth without work, Pleasure without conscience, Knowledge without character, Commerce without morality, Science without humanity, Worship without sacrifice, Politics without principles.” -Mahatma Ghandi
He wielded his camera like the criminals in the film wielded their guns, and he loved it. Gyllenhaal somehow seems to keep Lou from even blinking-his eyes were unnerving in their focus. He worked at perfecting his craft: framing each shot for maximum shock value just like WeeGee, manipulating the frames and situations when necessary to get the result he wanted without a second thought. There is a scene at the end of the film where Lou is shooting a crime scene, and he pans in on a rifle on some bloody stairs. He focuses on that weapon like it’s a piece of fine art, yet the victim suffering face-first on the kitchen floor gets little more than a cursory glance, and that only because there’s a money shot of a black-red pool of warm blood.
With any luck, this film will help people lower the lens and look at people they’re shooting without the barrier the lens so often builds. Whether one is looking through a camera or a gun, it’s important to remember that what you are seeing on the other side of that little clear wall is a person.
In Nightcrawler, Lou Bloom doesn’t shoot people; he shoots targets.