What they don’t tell you about this movie is that, when it is eventually shown on television during Halloween marathons, it can be paired perfectly with the Christian Bale-helmed American Psycho. Honestly, I will be shocked if we don’t see at least one academic paper comparing the two parables of lunacy, featuring two of our greatest actors giving exceptionally creepy performances. That being said, this is not that academic paper so I will not bring up American Psycho until the end.
Louis Bloom (Gyllenhaal) is quickly established as a man who will do anything necessary to make a living. The film follows his rise (or descent?) into the world of Los Angeles crime journalism via taping footage of crime scenes. He rises to the top of his league by increasingly malicious deeds and the stakes climb as we discover how much of a monster he truly is.
Being a film major myself, I know the struggles of filming night scenes. Anyone who has owned a camera or camcorder knows the pain of seeing grainy night footage cloud clear memories. That is one reason why the plethora of darkness throughout Nightcrawler is so gorgeous–the blackness is milky smooth and you find yourself truly immersed in the lunacy of our protagonist, Louis Bloom (Gyllenhaal). The majority of the film is shot in the dark, with only a handful of day shots as punctuation (that also have deeper meanings I am sure). However, the story is of a budding LA crime videographer and his questionable ethical decisions. This is not a film for the daylight.
At first I did not enjoy the cinematography. Throughout the film it is rough and unfinished, competent but not extraordinary. Then I realized: this is a film about a blossoming videographer. The genius of the cinematography is that it mirrors his own high-strung education in camera work and framing. Nightcrawler is quite a reflexive film, with not only images of cameras strewn everywhere and footage on videoscreens, but direct on-screen references to framing and camera jargon such as wide-screen lenses and megapixels.
In this way, lovers of filmography and photography are given a chilling reminder of boundaries in capturing life through a lens. The cinematography hammers this point into our faces by trading shots between Lou’s camera and the “official” camera of the film.
I enjoy James Newton Howard’s work, but the music felt inconsistent.
In this case, it seemed to be a reflection of the film’s own inconsistent message. Describing anything would give too much away, but the ending scene leaves the audience questioning its message more than anything. At some points the music is hopeful and cheery, reflecting Lou’s rise as a result of diligence and hard work. Other shots are adrenaline fueled and guitar driven. Then there were the pieces that matched the overall dark town of the film. Each would have worked in their own right, but spliced together they felt uncertain of which story they wanted to tell.
This brings me back to the comparison between American Psycho and Nightcrawler. At the end of American Psycho, we find that Bale’s character was only imagining his maniacal fantasies. He tries his hardest to confess his crimes, but no one seems to believe him or even bother paying attention to him for that matter. This is a dark commentary on the apathy of the corporate world and high-class society. What is the real lesson of Nightcrawler? The best I could think of is our failure as a society to address disturbed individuals when we have the chance.
Throughout the course of the film Lou interacts with many people. Several question his judgment, but none of them makes an effort to actively confront him or even help him. And this is not the kind of individual that suddenly develops a psychotic personality, this is a man who has been molded by the people around him.
Somewhere in this film there is a powerful moral lesson, but the film itself does not make that leap. Instead we are left with a morally questionable ending. We are left waiting for someone else to step in and fix the problem for us. Perhaps that is the film’s message, a commentary on our complacency and unwillingness to question what we see before our eyes.
