With its opening, painterly shots of a neon-lit Los Angeles, Nightcrawler immediately announces itself as a portrait of the kind of melancholic America captured so masterfully in the past by directors like David Lynch or even the artwork of Edward Hopper. In fact, to my mind, Nightcrawler is best summarised as a thrilling examination of the kind of person who is to be found in those lonely, after-hours haunts of a bleak American metropolis and the brooding psychology of these solitary souls, as depicted by something like Hopper’s Nighthawks.

Louis Bloom (Jake Gyllenhaal) is a petty criminal, living on the small income he generates from stealing scrap metal. His life is one lived in solitude, although his charming, if overbearing, level of charisma allows him to easily manipulate those around him: a skill which will ultimately reap serious consequences. After failing to talk his way into a job at a construction site after unloading his ill-gotten goods to the site’s supervisor, Bloom begins to make his way home through the darkness of the LA night, only to come across an incident that will propel him towards stardom within the shadowy profession of ‘nightcrawling.’

The incident Bloom comes across is a semi-serious car accident on the freeway. Stopping his car, he gets out, not really to help but to indulge his own morbid curiosity as many passersby are likely to do. Suddenly, bursting onto the scene comes Joe Loder (Bill Paxton), who, with a camera in hand, documents the carnage and bodily injury before him for the benefit of the local morning news outlets who are willing to pay good money for this type of apparently ‘journalistic’ material. As is made clear by Loder: ‘If it bleeds, it leads.’

Struck by the fact that money can be made by this type of venture, Bloom sets out to follow Loder’s example as a freelance crime/accident cinematographer. Los Angeles, a city of violence and crime, thus becomes Bloom’s playground as he takes off into the night armed with a police radio scanner and a cheap DV camera. Also by his side is Rick, a young guy desperate for a job, whom Bloom hires as his assistant. Despite some initial setbacks and the grind of learning the ‘trade’, Bloom establishes himself as force to be reckoned with, eventually setting up his own company Video News Production. The character continually builds upon his ambition and drive to deliver results for the increasingly impressed local news team which he begins to deal exclusively with. What impresses them the most is Bloom’s apparent ability to ‘get the shot’, be it through legal or less than legal means.

But when his drive for better and better material is let down by the absence of such footage, his relentless zeal to get the best product he can elevates his activity from neutral observer to active participator, and the film’s narrative from character study to neo-noir crime thriller. Despite Bloom’s best attempts to bury his morally corrupt undertakings in the shallow corporate rhetoric of ‘going the extra mile’ or ‘reaching a little higher’, his actions become progressively more deviant and his sense of guilt all the more absent, resulting in a devastating climax which follows the twisted logic of Bloom’s psychology to its inevitable conclusion.

First and foremost, Nightcrawler‘s focus is Bloom, and Gyllenhaal’s performance as the character is simply mesmerising. His gaunt, emotionless expression combined with the artificiality of his gestures when interacting with those he seeks to manipulate, presents an actor at the height of his ability. Bloom’s character becomes the site of the film’s terror and psychological tension, through our  inability to map any sort of concrete persona onto him. We are never sure of his motives, be they for money, prestige or the apparent pride he takes in the artistry of composing the shots of the crime scenes he documents. He’s constantly alternating between different personas and the audience is never certain of where the reality of his character lies. A rich back-story surely exists for Bloom, one which is undoubtedly dark and unpleasant, but it is never defined and, rightly so, left to the audience’s imagination.

Combined with Gyllenhaal’s performance, the film’s parallel strength is its commentary on the media’s fascination with grisly crimes and violence, reported on to both keep audiences fearful and to keep them watching. As a behind the scenes look into an industry which prioritises any story in which middle class whites are killed or injured in their wealthy and supposedly safe neighborhoods (‘preferably by minorities’), one can only hope that such ratings-seeking fear tactics are to some extent exaggerated, although it is evident that more truth lies in these moments than we would like to think.

Of course, the idea that the press can capitalise on particular kinds of stories is nothing new, with Nightcrawler clearly echoing films like Billy Wilder’s Ace in the Hole or the more recent Gone Girl, with which Nightcrawler would make a good companion piece. But Nightcrawler more effectively emphasises this type of critique in those moments when Gyllenhaal’s character markets or attempts to negotiate a price on the horrendous footage he captures without any acknowledgement of the pain and suffering he is making money from.

Above all else, Nightcrawler is a compelling modern noir, benefiting from its striking interplay of performance, execution and narrative.