Nightcrawler

Jake Gyllenhaal is absolutely unhinged (in the best way) as Lou Bloom, a bottom-feeder who discovers LA crime journalism is a lucrative, if morally bankrupt, calling. The entire movie is a fever dream, drenched in neon and shot in a way that makes even a convenience store at 2 a.m. look unsettlingly cinematic. The plot itself is pretty simple—Lou goes from hustling for scraps to becoming a major player, and it’s hard not to get sucked into his slimy ambition, even as you want to slap him.

What stood out right away is how dirty and desperate everything feels, from the stilted small talk between Lou and the other stringers, right down to the greasy breakfast diners. Director Dan Gilroy never lets you forget that everyone here is slightly off and the city is a character in its own right—corrupt, hungry, and indifferent. The pacing doesn’t let up, either. The more awful Lou becomes, the faster the movie moves, pulling you along whether you like it or not.

Gyllenhaal, though, is why you’ll remember this one. His physicality—those buggy eyes, alarming gauntness, and that near robotic politeness—makes him both grotesque and mesmerizing. It’s the sort of performance where you realize halfway through you’re rooting for the villain, and then you immediately question your own morals. Riz Ahmed gives an underrated turn as Lou’s wide-eyed assistant, bringing a tragic, anxious energy that makes their dynamic genuinely tense (watch their car scenes; it’s excruciating in the right way).

The story is tight, but not everything lands. Some stretches (especially early on) spend a little too much time spelling out the rules of the nightcrawler world, as if Gilroy’s worried you won’t get it. And while the ending works in context, it’s a little on the nose with its cynicism—it doesn’t trust you to feel gross, it practically demands it.

Cinematography is a major win, though. Robert Elswit deserves some kind of lifetime supply of black coffee for the way he shoots LA at night—everything looks radioactive, dangerous, and just a bit tragic. James Newton Howard’s score is subtly grimy, too, the kind of music that sticks to your ribs after the credits roll.

Overall, Nightcrawler doesn’t flinch. It’s slick, horrifying, and way funnier than I expected in a very dark way. Definitely not one to throw on for background noise, but if you want to feel uneasy in your own skin for a couple of hours, it’s hard to beat.