The Nightingale (2018) - 8/10
Oh man. After taking a little break due to my life getting busy, the randomizer did not hold back on this pick. This is a film that makes me wonder if it even has a place on my rating system, because it feels so silly to review it next to something like Cars 2 or Back to the Future. Of course, it has a place cinematically within that context, but it’s trying to tell a story and a truth that other movies would never attempt. We’ll get into more specifics, but this is a brutal watch that reminds me not all storytelling can be packaged in palatable ways — for some stories, you just have to grin and bear it because there’s value in them despite the revulsion they may elicit.
1. Acting
The acting in this film is often excellent — and honestly, it needed to be. The incredibly dark and serious nature of the plot had to be anchored by all-in performances that don’t veer into the “over-the-top.” Otherwise, the entire production might have been undermined. In particular, Aisling Franciosi’s performance as Clare is high-caliber work, and her various awards and nominations that followed were certainly justified. She imbues Clare with subtle layers throughout the runtime and really shines in the dramatic moments that allow her more room to “let it go” emotionally.
Paired with Franciosi’s excellent performance is a great antagonist turn from Sam Claflin. He plays a truly deplorable character, and Claflin seems more than willing to fully flesh out just how vile he can make him. The sickly ambition, the lack of empathy, and the total absence of remorse all radiate off the character, and it’s a testament to Claflin’s commitment to the role.
Another solid performance comes from first-time actor Baykali Ganambarr. Considering the subject matter, it seems the production team knew how essential it was to cast someone who was actually an Aboriginal Australian. For his part, Ganambarr — though raw at times — displays real acting talent. Also, his chemistry with Franciosi carries the middle sections of the film and allows for a very emotional finale.
Outside of the main trio, there are additional great turns from the supporting cast, including Damon Herriman as the minor antagonist Ruse and a haunting performance from Magnolia Maymuru.
2. Cinematography
Matching the dark and gloomy nature of the plot are its dreary visuals. That’s not to say this film looks bad; rather, the aesthetic is clearly designed to match the tone by keeping everything drab. Scenes are often dimly lit by campfire or candlelight, and the outdoor sequences are almost always coated in fog, with muted colors and depleted contrast.
In addition to making the color grade tonally fitting, the camera work makes another explicit choice: close-ups dominate the runtime, with characters’ faces taking center stage in nearly every shot. Not only is this a compelling visual choice that captures subtlety in the acting, but it’s also a psychological choice for the audience. Each character — protagonist or antagonist — endures deep trauma. By keeping the viewer’s gaze centered on the characters, the camera traps you in those moments with them. This, paired with the 4:3 aspect ratio, isolates the audience in each scene, forcing you to soak everything in. It’s honestly quite brutalist in nature, both in its rawness and in how it makes you feel.
3. Production and Costume Design
Another interesting aspect of the 4:3 ratio is how little gets captured in the frame. In most films that use a more conventional ratio, the background helps sell a scene. That’s true here too, but in The Nightingale it allows for a very “simple” approach to production. The sets are fairly devoid of extraneous detail, and the production team seems to have focused on making everything feel time-appropriate. Even the wilderness scenes are quite barren, with the striking landscapes taking a back seat to the characters.
Similarly, the costume and makeup teams do a great job staying true to the period without becoming a distraction. That may sound simple, but it likely required significant work and discussion to execute that level of subtlety.
4. Writing
Genre can play an important role in analyzing a film’s writing. Each genre has its own typical structures, tropes, and norms that set context. However, I have a tough time placing The Nightingale. Plenty of films bridge two genres, but this one feels almost outside all of them. In some ways, it’s a historical war film; in others, a drama, a psychological thriller, and, in many ways, a horror film. Early on, I even noted that it felt like “a Tarantino history film with absolutely no sense of humor.” In the end, it boils down to a film less interested in genre than in telling a raw story that mirrors the atrocities it’s based on.
The plot itself is fairly straightforward. Colonial forces on the eve of the Black War in Australia commit horrendous acts that set Clare on her quest for revenge. As Claflin’s Lt. Hawkins makes his way through the outback to secure a promotion, Clare pursues him with the help of an Aboriginal tracker named Billy. In the end, both Clare and Billy achieve some sense of closure, and Hawkins faces justice.
However, beneath the plot’s bones, a more subtle story plays out — especially with Clare, whose journey reflects immense grief and trauma, particularly in the aftermath of sexual violence. The scene with the wallaby, for instance, highlights her ongoing trauma and her slow path toward recovery.
Her story also connects to the film’s broader indictment of imperialism. Clare has so much violently taken from her, and her conversations with Billy shed light on the fact that being ripped away from Ireland is part of that loss. For Billy, the anti-imperialist themes are even more explicit. The racist treatment of Aboriginals by the white characters is one facet, but the film’s more brutal scenes — the repeated rape of an Aboriginal woman and the slaughter of a captured group — are grotesque, powerful depictions of imperialism’s inhumanity.
Yet, amid the darkness, the film brings some light. The growing relationship between Clare and Billy highlights the connection humans can find through shared pain and culture. Their bond, though born of trauma, also celebrates a shared love of music and the desire to preserve identity. The film even reflects this thematically through its inclusion of palawa kani, a reconstructed Tasmanian language combining several extinct Aboriginal tongues - featured here in film for the first time. The preservation of self, both individual and collective, emerges as a central theme.
In the end, the film brings Clare’s trauma to a close — though whether that ending feels “satisfying” may not be the point. The conclusion drags a bit, but there’s beauty in its bittersweet final moments. Still, the film will haunt you long after the credits roll.
5. Sound Design
The film embraces a “less is more” approach. There’s not really any formal soundtrack, but the film emphasizes music as part of the human experience. Also, on top of an already great acting performance, Aisling Franciosi performs a lot of singing in the film herself. Her angelic voice cuts through the darkness, creating chilling juxtapositions with the nature of the film.
As for the sound effects, the lack of score through most of the runtime feels deliberate and smart. Like other aspects of the film, it forces the audience to stay present in each scene with no flourish or distractions to relieve them.
6. Editing
The editing complements the film’s overall tone. The most distinct choice is how long certain shots linger. Again, this feels psychological, forcing the viewer to remain in painful moments longer than comfortable.
The rest of the edit is solid, though the final part of the third act drags. We know a conclusion is coming, but the film takes its time — even doubling back to give Clare and Billy separate endings that might have been streamlined into one.
7. Visual Effects
There likely wasn’t much budget for CGI, nor was there a need. The film is largely captured in-camera, which is all it needed.
8. Originality / Strength of Adaptation
In interviews, writer/director Jennifer Kent explained that The Nightingale wasn’t adapted from a specific source. Instead, she was inspired by the violence and brutality of modern times and their historical connections to Australia’s past. As such, this is a highly original and personal film with very few peers that I can think of.
9. Stunt Coordination
There isn’t much traditional stunt work here, but what’s included is well executed.
10. Direction
Jennifer Kent had a highly successful feature debut with The Babadook in 2014. Afterward, she was reportedly inundated with offers from studios eager for her follow-up. Instead of capitalizing on that success, Kent chose to focus on writing this film — a deeply personal endeavor. The results speak for themselves. I particularly admire her willingness to reject the easy, commercial path in favor of something more meaningful.
Legacy / Final Thoughts
The Nightingale feels like a singular work of art — as brutal and unforgiving as it is emotional and poignant. I can praise it endlessly for what it does well while still feeling hesitant to recommend it widely. It’s certainly not for everyone, and it lingers long after viewing (even for those who consider themselves resilient to this kind of film).
Unfortunately, the film’s lack of broad appeal limited its reach; its box office take didn’t even recoup half its reported budget. For most movies, that would spell “box office bomb,” but here, it hardly matters. The Nightingale will endure as a hidden gem — an auteur-driven recommendation among indie film enthusiasts. If you decide to watch it one day, just make sure you’re emotionally ready.
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