A Distorted Reflection: What Nightcrawler Says About Journalism

If Nightcrawler were the public’s only insight into journalism, they would likely conclude that the profession is driven not by truth, but by profit, spectacle, and ruthless ambition. The film paints a chilling picture of a media landscape where ethics are ignored and human suffering is content to be captured, packaged, and sold. Louis Bloom, the film’s main character, is not a journalist with any moral ethics; he’s a psychopath with a camera, operating with nothing but the drive for sensationalism, with no ethics or integrity for the work he does.

Throughout the film, Bloom's rise as a freelance videographer reveals a disturbing interpretation of journalism from what's meant to be public service to something entirely for personal gain. One of the most revealing examples of his intentions comes early on when Bloom arrives at a car crash before the police and, with no remorse or empathy, moves the victim's body for a better shot. His only concern is the visual drama of the footage, not the dignity of the person involved. This act reflects a total disregard for the journalistic principle of minimizing harm and an absence of any human empathy.

Another telling moment is when Bloom withholds police information to stay ahead of other videographers. He discovers the identity of two suspects in a violent home invasion but chooses not to inform the police. Instead, he remains silent so he can later follow them to film their eventual capture and death. His footage of the shootout is broadcast by a hungry newsroom, showing how easily even established media institutions will abandon ethics for ratings. Rather than questioning Bloom’s methods, the news director, Nina Romina, encourages him, showing how even she has no regard for ethics and is simply looking for sensationalism and higher ratings. This suggests that not only individuals like Bloom, but entire newsrooms are complicit in valuing fear-mongering, profit, and ratings over empathy and integrity.

Finally, Bloom’s manipulation of his assistant, whom he underpays, threatens, and ultimately lets die for his gain, it reveals how expendable people become in his pursuit of success. The camera does not just capture violence; it enables and incentivizes it. Bloom’s success is not in spite of his lack of ethics; it's because of it. This paints journalists in a very malicious light, in which profit comes over people and integrity. It also paints journalists as people who are completely desensitized to the tragedies and people they report on.

This portrayal of journalism contrasts sharply with Absence of Malice, which, despite its ethical failures, still acknowledges the existence of professional standards, and the main reporter did not fail in journalistic ethics with intentional malice, unlike Bloom for Nightcrawler. In Absence of Malice, Megan Carter’s mistakes stem from negligence, pressure, and poor judgment. She is flawed, but not entirely devoid of conscience. The film ends with a reckoning, showing the damage her reporting caused and hinting at the need for reform. Nightcrawler, on the other hand, offers no such reflection. Bloom has no moral conscience; he doesn't have any emotions such as empathy, so he feels no remorse for the horrible things he did. Bloom is celebrated and rewarded for his actions, even expanding his operation at the end, leaving no room for reform. There is no institutional accountability, no recognition of harm, only the cold, transactional logic of ratings and revenue.

While Absence of Malice critiques the ethical gray areas of journalism, Nightcrawler plunges us into a world where morality is not just compromised, it is erased. It leaves the viewer questioning not just the individuals behind the camera, but the system that empowers them, painting all journalism in a bad light.