“Why you pursue something is as important as what you pursue.”
Jake Gyllenhaal gives the performance of his career in a role that combines the nonchalant anti-hero of De Niro’s Travis Bickle with the charismatic self-righteousness of Christian Bale’s Patrick Bateman.
In a society so obsessed with materialism and the media, it’s quite surprising that it’s taken this long for a film like Nightcrawler to take flight. Dan Gilroy’s directorial début slots perfectly into a gap in the consumer market, solidifying itself in film history as one of the most revolutionary masterpieces of the modern cinematic age on the way.
The first five minutes of a film can either make or break it. Those initial few shots must pave the way for the rest of the narrative whilst managing to gracefully balance immediate gratification with an enticing promise of what’s to come. Nightcrawler not only perfects this balance, but pirouettes all over it. A bare billboard suspended in the midnight sky on the outskirts of downtown LA. Convenience stores barely bringing in enough money to keep the run-down signs illuminated throughout the night. These simple shots give audiences all they need to know about Gyllenhaal’s Lou Bloom. A parasitic character that is completely disengaged from the world around him, he finds himself out of work and struggling to feed his demanding consumerist lifestyle. His moral corruptness knows no bounds, something we learn from the get-go after he forcibly attacks a private officer and robs him of his abhorrently expensive watch. Bloom wants to be middle-class chic, but he’s really just a barely together sleazeball.
Not merely a nail-biting thriller, Nightcrawler is somewhat of a social commentary that forces audiences to take a step back and re-evaluate their role in the media circus. After being rejected from a possible employer on the grounds that he “doesn’t want to hire a thief”, Bloom stumbles upon a crime scene that sparks something deep within him. Murder means money, and money breeds murder. Inspired by what he witnesses that night, he heads to a second-hand dealership in the hopes of beginning his career in the news industry. His aim? Record the graphic scenes as they unfold and sell them on to news broadcasters for a hefty profit. Enter Nina (Rene Russo), a veteran of local TV news who is in dire need of something shocking to boost ratings and save her channel from the brink of extinction. Nina sees potential in Bloom and his charismatic flare, immediately igniting a relationship that becomes increasingly sinister as the film develops. If Bloom stands for everything that’s wrong with the media, then Nina stands for the seedy viewers who thrive on it.
As his skills develop and his knack for crime journalism grows, the line between reporting and offending becomes increasingly blurred for Bloom. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to give a damn. After a bloody massacre of a rich white family in an affluent area, a winning formula as far as Nina is concerned, stakes rise for everyone involved, and it’s not just Bloom’s neck on the line. An explosive cop chase will have you grinning like a fool for the duration of the final thirty minutes, and a gripping confrontation leaves no stone unturned for our perverted leading man.
Riz Ahmed (most famous for his portrayal of Omar in Four Lions) is perfect in the role of Rick, Bloom’s initially inept understudy that is on the edge of survival. At first Rick provides light relief in what it ostensibly an incredibly dark film; he seems to oppose everything that Bloom stands for, and frequently calls him out on his extremely questionable motives. But as his character grows and learns from his mentor, it becomes clear that there is a far more symbolic meaning behind Rick as a character. His determination to unveil what lies beneath the greasy top-knot and (probably stolen) Ray Bans reflects our desire, as an audience, to scratch beneath the surface of Bloom. But he soon finds himself being swayed by the prospect of money, and his moral compass flies off the radar when he is presented with the promise of wealth. Rick is a reflection of modern society and our constant thirst for more. This is where the film realises its full potential. In one of Bloom’s many monologues that showcase his obvious capability for intelligence, we must ask ourselves this: how can a business that is so fundamentally corrupt, in every sense of the word, form such a huge part of daily media circles? The answer- because society feeds on it. Like ravenous dogs. We are constantly being fed violence and terror, and in turn we come to crave it.
Gyllenhaal’s performance as Bloom is utterly enigmatic. We are constantly torn between loving his sadistic approach to the industry and fearing what he may become. Nightcrawler is more of a journey through the progression of Bloom’s psyche than it is anything else. There are many moments when we are teased by Gilroy, given hints as to what lies beneath the surface of such an intriguing character. Often these moments are cerebral and truly haunting. Is he on the autistic spectrum, or does he simply despise humanity? As Bloom himself puts it, “what if my problem wasn’t that I don’t understand people but that I don’t like them?” We never find out what arises from his terrifying run-in with Detective Fronteiri at the police station in the final minutes, but that’s because we don’t need to. What’s important here is not whether what he does is right, but that what he does works. Maybe we should ask ourselves why.
Nightcrawler is a cinematic experience like no other, and to miss it would be a true crime.
Words by Sophie.