In the opening scene of the fascinatingly soulful and occasionally irritating but persistent social satire “Nightbitch,” the wonderful Amy Adams, mother of a young son, is wandering the aisles of a suburban grocery store when she meets a younger woman named Sally (Adrienne Rose White), who took her job at an art gallery so she could be a full-time stay-at-home mom.

“Do you just like being home with him all the time? “Must be so wonderful,” says Sally, looking fabulous in a stunning green dress and hair/makeup like she’s about to go out on the town, unlike Mom in her rumpled, oversized denim outfit.

“That’s a good question,” comes the answer. “It’s complicated though because I’d like to be happy, but instead I feel like I’m stuck in a prison of my own making, torturing myself until I have to binge eat Fig Newtons at midnight to keep myself going keep.” from crying. And I feel like societal norms and gender expectations and just plain old biology have forced me to become this person that I don’t recognize…”

The rant continues until we pull back and see Sally asking the question again, leading us to conclude that what we just heard was just an internal monologue. We’re barely two minutes into the film, and yet, in a way, that’s pretty much the film: the great Amy Adams plays a mother who is barely holding on to her sanity as she deals with a whirlwind of emotions that become increasingly hallucinogenic express ways that eventually venture into the territory of body horror and magical realism.

Written and directed for the screen by the talented Marielle Heller (“Can You Ever Forgive Me?”, “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood”), “Nightbitch” is based on Rachel Yoder’s 2021 novel of the same name, An In-Depth Meditation about the monumental and conflicting emotions that come with motherhood, makes some poignant points here and there – but if we leave out the often cruel and in some cases disgusting images that come with it in the message I feel like the same points are being made over and over again.

And over.

Adams delves metaphorically and – oh yes – sometimes literally into her role as a mother who was a respected installation artist before giving up her career and identity to care for her son (played by twins Arleigh and Emmett Snowden). who is adorable and precocious and NEVER wants to sleep or relax, and yes, mother is at her wits’ end.

Scott McNairy is a complete caricature as the husband (hey, I didn’t name these characters, and neither did the filmmakers, by the way) whose job keeps him away most of the week but who fancies himself a pretty modern husband his parent complaining about wishing he was home with his son all day and reminding the mother that happiness is a choice. (The one time the husband agrees to bathe his son, he continually interrupts Mom’s brief respite by asking her for help and scrolling through his phone on the toilet.)

“What new hell awaits you today?” Mother asks the mirror one morning. How about this: Worrying changes are occurring in the mother, from an increased sense of smell to sharper teeth to fur growth on her lower back and…wait for it…extra nipples. It doesn’t take long before mother develops an appetite for small animals and runs off into the night on all fours. Will mother become a dog? A night bitch, if you will?

Even with a running time of 98 minutes, “Mother” feels like a single, thinly stretched metaphor. We get flashbacks to Mother’s childhood in a Mennonite community, moments of “Desperate Housewives” humor as Mother feels disconnected from her former colleagues and other new mothers (played by the amazing trio of Mary Holland, Archana Rajan and Zoë Chao). underutilized) and an underdeveloped subplot involving a mysterious librarian/maternal figure (Jessica Harper) who seems to know exactly what Mother is going through, perhaps through a similar experience of her own.

“Nightbitch” positions itself as an edgy body horror film with shocking images, and there is no denying that its premise that even in 2024 the sacrifices of motherhood are taken for granted and undervalued is valid. Still, listening to this film is like admitting to a fight with someone who then insists on continuing to score points instead of taking the win.