Vanessa Kirby Breaks Bad in Muddled Netflix Thriller Night Always Comes

Doreen, on the other hand, is an immediate narrative problem for Night Always Comes. It’s very unclear what exactly Leigh’s character is trying to accomplish when she scuttles Lynette’s plans to offer a down payment on the house to stave off their creditors, instead buying a brand new car in a rather shockingly caddish display of indifference. Why is Doreen so personally disinterested in Lynette, when the latter is devoting 110% of her energy toward a desperate attempt to provide the family with some stability? Why does she outright refuse to communicate with her daughter in any way? Jennifer Jason Leigh is an actress of inestimable power, particularly in portraying these kinds of abrasive, intimidating or hard-to-know characters, but despite her selfishness being the impetus for the entire plot of Night Always Comes, she’s barely a character in the film proper. She immediately falls out of the story, primarily serving as just an impediment, a reason for Lynette to have to embark on the film’s logline: Raising $25,000 in a single night by calling in all her favors and ultimately breaking bad on the fringes of law-abiding society in Portland’s criminal underground. Leigh returns very late in the game for one final scene meant to give some context to her seeming negligence, but it not only arrives too late to properly make an impression, but also undermines the motive that has been driving Lynette (and the viewer) through the last 108 minutes of runtime. These revelations are perhaps meant to have the viewer challenge Lynette’s protagonist status to some degree, but they mostly serve to invalidate her struggle in a way that is inherently unsatisfying to the audience, trivializing what had been portrayed throughout as a looming, impossible bind the family was facing. The narrative can’t help but feel pointless when you reach over to the ticking clock and simply remove its batteries. Problem solved!

That the film ultimately walks back the seriousness of the threat of poverty that the family is facing speaks to the clumsy way it tackles topics like poverty and criminality in general, as evidenced by the clunky opening radio narration, hammering away on “things sure are terrible these days” sentiment. The screenplay gives Lynette ample opportunity to make mistakes, but then justifies and rationalizes them–she, for instance, automatically assumes with casual racist simplicity that the one black coworker she has at her bartending job will have various useful underworld connections because she heard he “did time,” despite her having no idea of the context of his imprisonment. Rather than call her out on this racist assumption, Night Always Comes instead validates it, because yep, turns out that Cody (Stephen James) actually does know a guy in the same neighborhood who can crack a safe, or fence a stolen Mercedes. James tries to rise above the stereotypes his character is given, right up to the moment that Cody undergoes a heel turn so abrupt that it at first seems like a gag, going from semi-flirtatious with Lynette to threatening and demanding at the drop of a hat, for no other reason than that the screenplay demands it.

Director Benjamin Caron grounds the film in a largely realistic depiction of desperation as it exists on the cusp of the poverty line, and I will concede that it’s nice to watch a drama of this nature in which the menace throughout isn’t constantly being undercut by forced quipping and levity. Likewise, there are familial beats here that will ring true to those who have grown up in fractured homes, or been forced to rely upon friends or family you know will ultimately let you down. There’s a gnawing, anxious pain to the experience of asking someone to do something for you, having them swear they will carry out the request, and knowing at the same time, deep down that you’re being lied to … but simultaneously being unwilling to call out the lie as it happens, because you’re hoping beyond hope that this time, your intuition will be wrong.

Night Always Comes is at its best when it’s pitting Lynette against various creeps from other socioeconomic strata, such as Randall Park playing against type as a sleaze rather than a dweeb for once, or Eli Roth playing … well, a much more inherently believable, exaggerated sleaze that seems perfectly on point for Eli Roth. The narrative drags her down to their level, searching for a red line that she won’t cross in her pursuit to do what she believes needs to be done. At the same time, Kenny’s concerns are unfortunately infantilized to some degree, and he becomes little more than baggage complicating Lynette’s descent into a world of wickedness and sin. Gottsagen likely deserved an opportunity to become a more active participant in this story, rather than being banished to the backseat to say things like “guys, calm down!”

Vanessa Kirby does what she can to retain our interest in Lynette, but as watchable as she is in her scheming, bargaining and lying, the structure surrounding her is too thin to support all but the most clichéd, expected narrative. If only Jennifer Jason Leigh had been available for a few more days of shooting, perhaps Night Always Comes could have put some flesh on the bones of its family drama, enlivening what is otherwise an overly familiar crime caper, but like an absent parent, the supporting elements of the film just can’t be counted on when you need them.

Director: Benjamin Caron
Writer: Sarah Conradt
Stars: Vanessa Kirby, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Zack Gottsagen, Stephan James, Randall Park, Julia Fox, Michael Kelly, Eli Roth
Release date: Aug. 15, 2025 (Netflix)

Jim Vorel is Paste’s Movies editor and resident genre geek. You can follow him on Twitter or on Bluesky for more film writing.