The Nightingale is 100% a revenge drama, probably best compared to The Revenant (but less boring, with more point, more cultural sensitivity to indigenous people and better shot scenery) where the anger of one woman drives both the action and the lead herself through threatening environments, injuries, grief and, most importantly, her own bigotry, to bring the man who destroyed her world to justice.
In many ways, The Nightingale feels like a combination of the rape-and-revenge exploitation horror film I Spit on Your Grave crossed with Jim Jarmusch’s anti-Western Dead Man, with a little of The Revenant thrown in for good measure.
While The Nightingale functions quite fantastically as a pitiless revenge thriller – one that unavoidably recalls the hell-and-back intensity of Alejandro González Iñárritu’s The Revenant (2015), absent that film’s fable-like qualities – Kent is ultimately up to something more akin to the meditations on violence and vengeance in The Great Silence (1968), Unforgiven (1992) and True Grit (2010).
“The Nightingale” bears echoes of other films of struggle in untamed lands: the fervent anti-Australian colonialism of “The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith,” in which a young 19th-century Aboriginal man goes on a revenge-fueled killing spree; the tracking narrative of “The Searchers,” the stormy male-female bonding of “True Grit,” and the rage-filled survivor’s story of “The Revenant” (though we can be thankful there are no bears in Tasmania).
They also place this picture in conversation with a long-standing Hollywood tradition of revenge-themed survival cinema: The rapport between Clare and Billy inevitably recalls “True Grit,” while the blood-and-mud realism of their struggle, punctuated by occasional flashes of nightmarish surrealism, suggests a less pretentiously inflated version of “The Revenant.”
A star has been born, giving a performance that will be compared to Leonardo DiCaprio's Oscar-winning turn in "The Revenant" but for me, was an even deeper, richer overall performance.