Jake Gyllenhaal sheds weight and common human decency for his latest role.
Nightcrawler – Movies dealing with ambition seems to be a trend this fall, yet Dan Gilroy’s feature debut Nightcrawler doesn’t depict the usual heroics associated with it. In fact, this is a devilishly enjoyable portrait of a true anti-hero, and one that intimately aligns audiences with its lead in unsettling and alarming fashion. Jake Gyllenhaal (looking gaunt with weight loss and eerie with unblinking eyes) plays Lou Bloom, an opportunistic young man who sees the potential in reporting nightly news and tries his hardest to enter into the industry. There’s a caveat, though; Lou isn’t interested in anchoring. He recognizes how desperate news producers are for eye-grabbingly graphic footage because he’s no stranger to that desperation – he’s the living incarnation of it. Lou stumbles upon the underground business of nocturnal journalism , a practice of capturing footage of violent collisions, brutal attacks, and bloody suffering and stamping it with a price tag. Acclimating and educating himself, Lou enters into a business relationship with low-rated program producer Nina (Rene Russo, a welcome return), negotiating prices for footage he’s captured in order for her to inject it into the morning news. Shocking and graphic videos become dollar-signs to Lou’s entrepreneurial mind, and the more he pursues footage the more he blurs the line between capturing and interfering. Along the way, he enlists the employment of semi-homeless, equally desperate, but morally grounded Rick (Riz Ahmed) and competes with a veteran nightcrawler (Bill Pazton, relishing a small role) in order to grow his business amidst the surrounding chaos. It’s a somewhat dated premise, but thankfully Gilroy knows it – and appropriates it into the economic state and mindset of 2014. He slyly equates the violent and colliding atmosphere of which Bloom films with the cutthroat and carnivorous nature of not only network morning news, but our professional lifestyle. It’s easy to be repulsed by Bloom’s slimy, encyclopedic theories and blinded ambition but Gilroy’s film resonates because these are traits we haven’t completely abandoned in today’s world – we just maybe apply them differently. Thus, Gyllenhaal’s Bloom is the grey area between protagonist and antagonist, an anti-hero whose motives are communicated more soundly than anyone else’s in the film. Rick’s interjections offer some rationality and voice of reason, but Bloom is in the driver’s seat and places his goals within his self-assured prophecies – this is what he believes to be realistic achievement. Nightcrawler is a slick dark comedy because it challenges our perception of own work ethic and drive with a vicious blend of satiric bite and horrifying possibility. In a haunting performance, Gyllenhaal achieves perhaps the biggest goal of any actor – to physically and emotionally lose oneself in their character for the sake of the story and audience. Of course, there are the minutes into the film where I was impressed with how Gyllenhaal was approaching his character and how Gyllenhaal was perfecting his mannerisms – but those limited themselves to minutes. I forgot anyone was playing the part, as a terrifyingly precise and opportunistic monster was committing moral atrocities left and right in order to leapfrog himself to the front. Russo is equally electrifying as Nina, helping create an eerie tension with Gyllenhaal while conveying a similar dose of desperation and loss. It’s a rather ugly and shallow character, yet Russo infuses her with a memory of past grace decayed by relentless, barbaric pursuit that is heartbreaking. Whereas her Nina has moments of sheer vulnerability, Gyllenhaal’s Bloom uses self-reflection to selfishly propel himself. It’s a fascinating relationship that unfolds throughout the film, and both actors ignite it with humor and horror each time they’re onscreen. Ahmed is also very impressive in his supporting performance, echoing the audiences’ inclinations without pandering to our expectations. Gilroy’s film isn’t perfect – the ending is rushed and calculated, and the film stumbles occasionally in its pacing. But it ultimately works as a ruthless satire as well as a haunting self-reflection of our own economic mentality, centered around a breathtakingly biting performance from Gyllenhaal who inhabits a character of limitless ambition and a pitch-black heart.
Here’s the trailer:
Cinemaniac 