‘Night Always Comes,’ & With It, the Darkness

Netflix’s new thriller, Night Always Comes, starring Vanessa Kirby as a woman in dire straits with only a dark evening of the soul with which to address her deep financial concerns, posits itself as a statement on class and the struggle of the have-nots. The film presents these views early on, featuring numerous news reports that highlight the scythes of inflation, the income gap, stagnant wages, and the rising cost of housing. Kirby’s Lynette suffers from each of those maladies, but it’s the last one that is at the center of this perilous evening. 

Lynette’s family has lived in the same rundown rental home for many years, and the owner has decided to sell, leaving Lynette, her mother, and her older brother (who has Down Syndrome) on the precipice of homelessness. Lynette has a chequered past that has weakened her credit, but the owner of their home is willing to make a deal if she can come up with $25,000 and have her mother co-sign the loan. Therein lies the rub. 

Lynette’s mother has the money for the down payment, but she is a decidedly unreliable parent. Doreen, as played in a vanity-free performance by the great Jennifer Jason Leigh, is a mother in name only. Her early morning rancor with Lynette from the couch she woke up on sets the stage for the predictable: Doreen is going to screw up the deal. The owner of the house has lowered his asking price and given Lynette an extension to come up with the money and sign on to the loan. Lynette needs Doreen to show up at the loan office with the 25K and a pen. It is no surprise that it is too much for Lynette to expect. 

Lynette has been attempting to straighten out her life and keep her family of three housed. She works three jobs. In the morning, she’s at the bakery. In the evening, she serves at a bar. On the side, she sells herself to a wealthy businessman, all in an effort to stay afloat. The Portland backdrop is useful in illuminating her challenges. A once funky and artsy big city where people of modest income could make a life, Portland had rapidly become San Francisco to the east. The gap between the rich and the poor is ever-widening, and the management of the homeless population has become increasingly unsustainable. As Lynette tells a pretty terrible friend, “I’m going to end up turning tricks in my car.”

As much as Night Always Comes focuses on income equality in Portland and the United States writ large, the film is even better at showcasing the heavy burden of bad parenting. While Lynette certainly owns her mistakes that have left her in such a fraught state, it’s clear that her miseries are fruit borne from a miserable tree whose branches are made up of nothing but terrible decisions. Decisions made by Doreen. 

For those who have had the unfortunate experience of being birthed by a terrible mother, Doreen’s behavior will likely resonate. She is unforgiving, selfish, and mean. Of course, she sees herself in a much different light. Doreen pictures herself as a giver who has made numerous sacrifices. But givers don’t keep score, and they certainly don’t remind you that they are a giver. As strong as Night Always Comes is at putting forth the economic ills of the United States, it’s even better at showing the heavy burden of familial guilt and the sense of responsibility that comes with it. 

Night Always Comes reveals itself to be a riveting, race-against-the-clock thriller as Lynette tries to come up with the $25,000 on a Friday night to secure the home at 9 AM on the following Saturday. The events of the evening start with a denied request from her ‘John,’ and a rebuke from the shittiest friend since Aubrey Plaza’s frenemy in Emily the Criminal. Lynette then hatches a plot with a co-worker at the bar who seems amenable. Her night ends with trying to secure a fence for cocaine that forces her to reconnect with her former boyfriend/pimp (a skeevy Michael Kelly) and finally lands her in a grotesque basement party with a scummy dealer played by an even skeevier Eli Roth.

Director Benjamin Caron (best known for directing eleven episodes of The Crown) stages Lynette’s evening with grim aplomb and nerve-rattling intensity. Kirby effortlessly and convincingly holds the movie steady even as the events of the evening seem more and more unlikely—at least in retrospect. Fine supporting work is supplied by Stephan James as Lynette’s co-worker Cody, whose outward nature belies his inner one. Randall Park is also terrific as Lynette’s would-be benefactor who laughs in her face when she asks for his help, but still wants to go upstairs to the hotel room. 

Still, it’s the work of Jason Leigh that bookends the film and drives its middle. Night always comes, it’s true. And with it comes the dark. Doreen is the dark. Caron and Kirby’s film is no easy sit. It is relentlessly grim, and even the small measure of hope that ends the film as Lynette attempts to break the cycle is tempered by the knowledge that, however far Lynette may go, the shadow of her mother is going to be difficult to escape. Lynette’s mother has failed her for so long that the consequences of being a woman approaching middle age with few skills, bad credit, and a criminal record are painfully obvious. 

There is no outrunning the night.