At Williamsburg Cinema’s 10:10pm screening of Nightcrawler, a day after the film’s New York theatrical release, everyone huddled like grazing cattle in anticipation. I found myself amidst the excited crowds, surrounded by many familiar faces and neighborhood locals who gathered as they awaited Jake Gyllenhaal’s latest cinematic transformation. A majority of people were discussing the reviews they had just read on Rotten Tomatoes—94% fresh! Not bad! But let me tell you, Nightcrawler is a cerebral roller coaster and, unlike its trailer, its not the suspense that keeps us thinking but rather the mirrored reality of its world with ours.

Nightcrawler is a film that director Dan Gilroy (both writer and director) has clearly stated should resonate with the current generation.

“To be honest, I’m more interested in the younger generation’s reaction to this film,” he said. “I hope it has some relevance in the sense of, Wow, this is what I’m going through. I believe it’s a touchstone experience for a lot of people.”

The questioning of how much the dollar is really worth becomes somewhat of a metaphorical and visceral experience, in which things are literally pawned, the risks are heightened, and everything isn’t necessarily for the thrill but for the business. Gyllenhaal’s lonely Lou Bloom simply wants to make as much money as he can, and he’s willing to pay the extra price.

As a complicated, and yet he’s resourceful young individual, Bloom happens to arrive at a crime scene with the guidance of his GPA system, accompanied by his disrespected assistant (a wonderful Riz Ahmed). Bloom is a character that audiences have the chance to observe one-on-one in such refreshing ways—so much so, that at the most intimate moments we feel almost invasive, even when we’re watching him water his plant alone in his cold, dreary apartment outlooking Los Angeles’s smoggy skyline. He’s someone who doesn’t necessarily know what he’s good at but is willing to try whatever it takes, just as long as it pays. He’s sick of selling metal scraps from wasteland outskirts and no one could blame him.

But when he finds a hustling cameramen along the highway, an idea sparks and he becomes completely infatuated with the crime scene media market. The independence of such a task, maneuvering the way you want to and controlling every shot, every image, is what Lou senses could be right for him. Much like De Niro in Taxi Driver, Lou is a character audiences don’t have much background information about. We see him attempt to connect with others, particularly his boss (Rene Russo) in a wonderful and extremely uncomfortable scene that takes place in a cheesy Mexican restaurant. We, as an anxious audience, ultimately feel something for him, whether its remorse, sympathy, or compassion, because we know he wants to succeed and he’s looking for a voice. Sounds familiar, huh?

To further explore Riz Ahmed’s Rick, the terrified and homeless assistant, who, may I add, bargains for thirty dollars a day for his recent “internship” hiring under Lou Bloom’s “expertise,” is crucial for the film’s relatability to working hierarchy. An “internship” is hardly what this is and yet Rick’s somehow in the same mind space as Lou, wanting to make money and work. The requirement for such an “internship”? A cell phone with GPS. Lou directs Rick as if he’s been the longest running player in the game and everything he knows is right. Why? He desperately craves the professionalism and respect others have built for themselves, only he’s really obsessive and he treats Rick the same way he’s been treated by others, which basically translates to a “nobody.”

There’s a snarky narcissism and wicked entitlement that Gilroy explores between Lou and his boss, Nina, who notices Lou’s fearless crime scene footage. Their never-ending drive and work addicted personalities imply such a brutality that’s often faced in work fields today, where whatever it takes you just do it. No moral boundaries. No ethics. Nothing. Just the drama. “If it bleeds it leads,” we hear earlier in the film. A duality between Nina and Lou and Lou and Rick is a brilliant milestone of the film on Gilroy’s writing behalf.

We have no backstory on Nina either. How did Nina make it this far in the game? All we know is that Lou wants more than anyone else and he learns to accept the dog-eat-dog world, or rather embody it, so that he too can have a slice of the cake. Bill Paxton, playing the kind of Cali guy who says “brah,” returns as another news cameraman named Joe Loder. After Lou actually adapts to his new work regiment, Joe Loder recognizes Lou’s adrenaline-fueled drive and suggests for him to work alongside Loder’s own camera service, whereas before Lou was seen as a wannabe through Loder’s eyes.

What I admire about Lou’s character is his resilience and persistence. These qualities are both his blessing and his curse. Lou feels that the only way he can survive in the world is by working for himself. It’s a fear that many young people today have as internships don’t pay. Nothing really seems reciprocated in the work field, and entrepreneurship seems easier—needless to say, just as long as you know the right people. Lou wants to be one step of the game, ahead of everyone else around him, and to call his own shots when negotiating money deals involving his own work.

A film like Nightcrawler, much like The Social Network or The Bling Ring, was released at an appropriate time and raises prominent questions regarding youth, hierarchy, job opportunities, the media, and surveillance. I often found myself nodding my head during Nightcrawler, very pleased that a thought-provoking film could touch upon such indecencies and hardships that youth today face in the work place.

Finally, you see at what risk and length Lou is willing to go. It’s scary, and yet I can see it happening today where personal relationships seem distant or almost unnecessary for some and work is foremost important. When the work struggle gets real, we often find ourselves crazed and madness ensues. I’d like to think of Lou as a character whose finitely shaped by his self-centered environment, where no one seems to be helping each other out, while other audiences may argue that he may have always been that way.

His increasing entitlement, calculated mannerisms, and worsening haughtiness is something he values and deems as professional because of the fleeting economy and limited resources that have shaped him that way. He begins to train himself to become a one-man show in such disciplined ways and his loneliness attributes to the work addiction. It’s a truly terrifying performance Gyllenhaal has achieved, and it reminds us why Gyllenhaal is really one of the greatest actors today. The first question I think most young people who see this film should ask themselves is: “How far are am I willing to go?”

I think it’s too easy to criticize Bloom, labeling him “crazy” or a “psychotic.” He’s all too similar to us in this day of age, more than we even think. The second question the demographic I’m talking about should ask themselves is, “Was it worth it?’

Oh, also, for the record: the interns for Nightcrawler were paid. “No, we didn’t have one unpaid intern. We paid everybody. Absolutely. I would never have somebody working for me for free,” Gilroy previously stated to Vice.