Nightcrawler review

In the wake of the media blitz surrounding the recent Ebola scares and the minute-by-minute news coverage devoted to the few cases brought over to America by health officials working in the highly affected regions of Africa, Dan Gilroy’s sleazy suspense film “Nightcrawler,” which skewers media outlets who profit on paranoia, would seem hilariously timely and ironic if it weren’t so real and unsettling.  The now-viral video segment in which Fox News’ Shepard Smith broke the journalistic fourth wall and stepped away from his network’s regular programming to reassure fear-gripped Americans that they’re okay and that the reality of the situation isn’t necessarily as bad as the news might have us believe, suggested, at least for a brief moment, a tipping point in which basic human morals outweighed the media’s weekly bottom-line.  

Though set in the microcosm of local LA reporting, “Nightcrawler,” without apology, thoroughly skewers the world of cutthroat exploitation journalism by framing its argument around tangential concerns of economic desperation and the rise of internet self-help woo-woo, wrapped in a stingy self-reflexive jab at Hollywood’s tendency to alter reality in favor of the glamour and grime of ‘reality-ness .’ In short, this is probably the smartest and most immersive thriller likely to be seen this year, despite having been released on a minimally-attended Halloween weekend.

As the uncomfortably desperate people-pleaser Louis Bloom, Jake Gyllenhaal drops a third of his usual body-mass to play the type of character we’re usually used to seeing him hunt down as a cop in films like “Zodiac” or last year’s “Prisoners.”  We follow closely as he steals, lies and manipulates his way through Los Angeles looking for low-level work, until he finally finds the job of a lifetime when he pulls over on the side of the road to investigate a car-crash and discovers a freelance video operation headed by a mustachioed Bill Paxton who’s there to capture and sell grisly footage of crime and destruction for the local nightly news. With a small amount of dishonestly earned startup capital, Bloom buys himself a digital camera and hires a criminally underpaid ‘intern’ named Rick (Riz Ahmed) and together they comb the city’s suburbs looking for valuable blood and mayhem.

Rene Russo, who, along with Gyllenhaal is nomination worthy here, plays the producer of a fledgling LA news station who strikes an exclusive deal with Bloom, so long as he keeps bringing in the gory goods, which of course only enables his troubled psychosis. Given the parable-like meta-metaphor going on here, it’s not a stretch to assume that she stands in for the sensational media as a whole; the local news, the global news, the 24 hour cable news, Hollywood, the tabloids, reality TV, and the rest of the morally neutral enterprises that bank on perpetuating negativity.  

Somewhere between the fast-talking, self-centered ice of “American Psycho’s” Patrick Bateman and Robert De Niro’s portrayal of the comically pathetic Rupert Pupkin in Scorsese’s cult masterpiece “The King of Comedy,” what makes Bloom such a fascinating and terrifying character to watch is that he’s too good at his job. While we can’t believe the depraved lengths he’s willing to go to get to the scene of the crime before his competition or the lines he’s willing cross to get the perfect shots of carnage he needs, in today’s economic circumstances, we somewhat admire his tenacity and his keen ability to rig the system, given his ability to completely disconnect from humanity.  

With Gilroy’s patient and subtly stylish direction, at times recalling the William Friedkin’s street-movies “Cruising” and “The French Connection,” we’re lulled by the darkly romantic atmosphere of the film into rooting for the character’s success, which later slaps us with our own moral convictions and creates an uneasy tension in our bellies. It’s this kind of blackly humorous, subversive cynicism that will both turn off the portion of the audience who like their movies to leave them feeling good and tickle those who appreciate razor-sharp and perversely misanthropic satire.

Grade: A

Originally published by the Idaho State Journal/Nov-2014