Nightcrawler Review
Dan Gilroy’s 2014 movie Nightcrawler follows Lou Bloom through
the night-clad streets of Los Angeles as he makes his way into the ethical
edges of the stringer business. Lou stumbles into this career verging between
freelance journalism and bystander by coincidence. As he watches ambulances and
police taking care of a car accident, a guy with a camera runs past him to film
not only the crash site but the victims as well. This quick explanation is
enough to hook Lou: He provides film material for the highest bidding news
station. Lou jumps right into the business with a cheap camera and an intern
hired with little white lies. His talent for stretching the truth does not only
lead him straight to success, together with his sort of detached ruthlessness
it gets him into more than questionable moral territory.
Soon,
Lou not only gets real up close into bleeding victims’ faces. He rearranges
evidence on crime scenes and even a body on a crash sites to get better filming
material, which again will sell better. There is no arguing that your typical
hero would never do this. The lack of moral in the media and especially the
stringer business does not concern Lou, neither does he feel the need to change
anything.
Compared to the usual
anti-hero, there isn’t even anything questionably likeable about Lou, except
maybe his weird loyalty to the plant he owns and determinedly keeps healthy. He
makes use of the terms presented to him, all to gain altitude on his final road
to success. In a twisted version of the American Dream, he moves from the
lowest of income to successful businessman. Embodied in his character, the
viewer is treated to a complete submission to capitalism. Money is the ultimate
goal for all characters, not a single one of them portrayed as the idealist
journalist on his courageous path to reveal the truth.
That Lou succeeds on
this path paints the sensationalist consumer-media relationship in dark light,
something Nightcrawler stresses with
predominately night scenes with noir-like streetlights and car lamps as its
only companion. It’s all about money and ratings. Blood sells, drastically
shocking pictures of crime and family tragedies draw the audience in, and of
course the news station here caters to every stereotype of racism. In the best
case, the victims are white, middle or upper class, and the criminals poor
minorities.
These archetypes are
played for laughs in darkly comedic ways. It’s funny, because it’s ridiculous
how laughably clear Lou’s objectives are presented to him by local morning news
director Nina. We want violence and race issues. And that is the critique a
viewer must take home with him. How ridiculous is it that an audience grows
with the violence, blood and fear? Then, Nightcrawler
seems to be as much a critique of sensationalist journalism, as it is a
critique of the audience.
This support of
unethical practises in this kind of journalism is spun further by the
relationship between Lou and Nina. Nina, whose job and career is tied largely
to the ratings of the morning news, caters exactly to this cliché of journalist
that does everything for a good story. When she enters a sexual relationship
with Lou that wagers between blackmail and mutual profit gaining, there isn’t
much hesitation there. Neither is this explored or exploited beyond showing
them on an uncomfortable date in a restaurant. The focus stays on their working
relationship.
The same goes for the
police that enters the focus later on in the story. Lou tinkers with one too
many incidents, and despite or maybe because of carefully woven stories to
cloak his involvement, the police knows he is hiding something. But that’s it.
They know that their suspect sits right in front of them, yet they are unable
to do anything about it. Interestingly, the police does stick to their usually
expected ethics and morals. They could surely forge evidence to get Lou behind
bars, but they don’t go that far. Compared to usual portrayals of corrupt
police forces in movies and even in news, in Nightcrawler this shows us the other side of the coin. Yet, when
flipped, the coin lands with the police side down and Lou’s face up.
The anti-hero gets a
happy ending. His business is flourishing, he got the woman he was after,
revenge on the villain of his own story, and he kept his plant alive and green
throughout. The ending is everything we would want for the hero of the story.
Yet, in Nightcrawler this story of
success leaves the viewer with a bitter taste in their mouths. It’s that guy,
that immoral, manipulative, plotting puppet master that becomes so successful.
On his way, he leaves a bloody trail of criminals and naïve interns without
even so much as a flickering consciousness.
The character of Lou
could easily drift into territory of psychopath with his sunken eyes and
penetrating gaze, yet Jake Gyllenhaal keeps the character in the lines of eerie
and creepily charismatic. His huge, owl-like eyes even emphasise the almost
childlike curiosity with which he looks onto his newly chosen work and into the
immoral depths of this business. Not often gets a character like that a success
story, even less often does it work well. We might not enjoy it, but in the end
we watch intrigued how Lou Bloom crawls into the night like vermin.
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