Nightbitch (2024) review

An installation artist (Amy Adams), whose husband (Scoot McNairy) is always out of town, had to give up her artistic dreams in order to become a full-time mother to their only son, but soon finds her body undergoing changes (a lump forms on her backside, nipples emerge on her abdomen, her sense of smell becomes sharper) and she transforms into a canine that prowls around at night hunting prey (when not thinking back to her own childhood in a peculiar Mennonite family).  Although I respect the underlying message about how difficult it must be acting as a parent with an aloof husband, this unfortunately is a bit of Misguided Feminism: Adams' character is arguably mentally ill ("I could crush a walnut with my vagina!") and she's asked to do laughable things like bark and growl and dig in the dirt (I feel bad for the poor cat).  The "argument" that women have been restrained by the Patriarchy from accomplishing "greatness" might have applied to the past, but as I've written before, there are many successful ladies who have accomplished plenty and had kids too ... and not all of McNairy's character's statements to her are totally out-of-line (even though he gets booted out anyway).  Plus, there's nothing inherently wrong with not reproducing: you can have a fulfilling existence doing whatever you wish.