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The most talked about new movies have been so heavily focused on The Fantastic Four: First Steps, you probably didn’t even realize that Vanessa Kirby also starred in a new film coming out on Netflix only a few weeks after.
Night Always Comes sees Kirby do a complete 180 from the new Marvel movie, but just like Sue Storm’s brush with Galactus it’s similarly far from perfect. This time, Kirby plays Lynette, a former sex worker turned bread factory staffer, desperately trying to keep her dilapidated home as a roof over her family’s heads. When her mom blows their $25,000 downpayment on a car, Lynette embarks on an unhinged mission to raise all the money in one night, before local enforcement repossesses the house.
I know what you’re thinking. Night Always Comes has the potential to be heartpounding, gut-wrenching, slick and commanding in such a dynamic storyline. But this is only half true thanks to a complicated plot that doesn’t know whether it’s coming or going.
This is particularly frustrating because the subjects being explored are such a vulnerable, authentic window into the realities of life in America when you’re living paycheck to paycheck, and the new Netflix movie effortlessly enthuses real-life inspiration points to hammer that point home.
But on the fictional end, the drama often goes too far. As we delve further into the new film, we see Kirby dust off her Mission: Impossible movie training and dropkick more nefarious men than I’ve ever seen be taken down in one small-town setting. This leads us to an ending scene that’s so bonkers, I couldn’t suspend enough belief to buy that it was something that would actually happen. It’s these jarring changes in tone and narrative speed that make a plot already hard to understand that little bit more challenging.
I still haven’t made my mind up on Night Always Comes, but I’ve fallen back in love with Julia Fox
Okay, let’s get straight to it. While Night Always Comes is no doubt Vanessa Kirby’s best performance of the year so far (more on that later), I couldn’t help but be the most charmed by Julia Fox’s Gloria. She’s an old friend of Lynette’s who owes her $3,000, willingly letting her into her apartment in the middle of the night before refusing to stay in one place because her “car is here”.
It’s the sort of flamboyant chaos we’ve naturally come to associate with Fox (remember Uncut Gems?), but she plays it with such conviction that you forget how much talent she has buried away under those killer looks. Fox herself bears so much weight in terms of her cultural capital, so I hope fans and the industry re-recognize a woman who genuinely knows what to do with the craft she’s chosen.
Then there’s Kirby. Teetering across a delicate balance of misplaced confidence and a complete mental breakdown, Lynette has us in the palm of her hand as she desperately clings to a life she doesn’t even want in the first place. Her backstory is well fleshed out, and it makes sense for her logical patterns to be as archaic as they end up being. Kirby’s emotional range is what really sells it, though, digging as deep as a woman has to when she’s acting out in pure panicked desperation.
Performances aside, the Netflix movie has built its foundations on sand
While I really appreciate the honesty of living in modern-day America and easily falling into an unsavory way of living, I have a lot of issues with Night Always Comes’ plot. I can buy one chaotic caper happening, such as Lynette beating a bunch of men to a pulp when she takes a stolen safe to be broken into, but four or five in a row? That’s just getting absurd. This also contradicts the safety of Lynette’s older brother Kenny (Zack Gottsagen) who has Down’s Syndrome, and is the bulk of the reason why Lynette is fighting so hard to keep the house. She eventually puts him in grave danger, but as much as the move shows Lynette’s slippery slope of inner morality, I cannot buy that an entire nightclub’s worth of people would equally throw Kenny under the metaphorical bus, too.
The more people Lynette meets to try and steal, barter and plead for her cash, the more you forget how she knows them, what their significance is and how she hasn’t magically run out of avenues to try. It’s a headscratcher and a bleak one at that, which is just as much of a blessing as it is a curse. There’s no foot off the pedal, meaning Lynette’s wild antics and desperation chug along at a constant pace without any letup. That’s exhausting for anyone, and I think it eventually does a disservice to the overall impact of her story.
As much as I enjoyed pretending to punch anyone who crossed Lynette’s path with a bad attitude, Night Always Comes ultimately has us sitting on the fence. With an almost equal amount of good and bad, it’s perhaps an ironic microcosm of life itself, only I wish I had Julia Fox strutting around sassing me in mine.
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