Director Eliza Hittman
Eliza Hittman on the set
NEVER RARELY SOMETIMES ALWAYS B+
USA Great Britain (101 mi)
2020 d: Eliza Hittman Official
site
He makes me do things
I don’t want to do
He makes me say things I don’t want to say
& even though I want to break away
I can’t (stop saying I adore him
I can’t stop doing things for him)
He’s got the power, the power of love over me
He makes me say things I don’t want to say
& even though I want to break away
I can’t (stop saying I adore him
I can’t stop doing things for him)
He’s got the power, the power of love over me
—“He’s Got the Power,” by the Exciters, 1963, The Exciters - He's Got The
Power (Stereo) - YouTube (2:21)
An intensely personal film, much more mature than her
earlier works, revealing a greater depth of character, winner of a Special Jury
Award at Sundance for Neo-Realism, interestingly listing filmmaker Barry
Jenkins as one of the executive producers, beautifully shot by Hélène Louvart
on 16mm, providing a moody and impressionistic landscape of both interior and
exterior worlds, including an equally intriguing electronic musical score by
Julia Holter that adds a poetic lyricism, with piano music of Robert Schumann
thrown in, all centered around the experiences of a young 17-year old girl,
Autumn (Sidney Flanigan), accentuating naturalism through a continual
choreography of close-ups on her face, living in a tough, rural community of
Northumberland, Pennsylvania where options are few and far between, calling
into question the choices young girls face in today’s world, revealing an
incessant war of degradation against women and girls in communities like
this. While ostensibly about the erosion
of reproductive rights, where young women from rural areas have to travel great
distances to obtain an abortion, modeled after Savita Halappanavar, an Indian
woman living in Ireland who died in 2012 of blood poisoning in a hospital in
Galway after being refused a life-saving abortion, which ended up changing the
abortion laws in Ireland. Society’s
aversion to legal abortion is portrayed in a starkly realistic light, kind of
America’s version of Cristian
Mungiu’s Palme d’Or winning film 4
Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (4 luni, 3 saptamâni si 2 zile) (2007), which
is about obtaining an “illegal” abortion, yet the film also unravels layers of
ominous warning signs that young girls must learn to navigate at an early age, revealed
at the outset in 50’s and 60’s style dance and musical performances from a high
school talent show when Autumn is openly slut-shamed, with some guy yelling out
“Slut!” in the middle of her daringly different contemporary solo performance of
The Exciters “He’s Got the Power,” turning otherwise innocent lyrics into a
cautionary tale, clearly indicating an abuse syndrome where men continually wield
a stranglehold over women, impinging on their right to choose. At dinner with her family afterwards,
receiving congratulations from her mother (singer Sharon Van Etten) and younger
sisters, her stepfather (Ryan Eggold) is openly derisive, literally mocking the
idea of offering praise, where it’s clear right from the outset that there are
red flag warning signs being exhibited, with fear emanating from his brazen
hostility, yet this is an aspect the film doesn’t explore. Instead it deals with the consequences. Understated to the core, from the maker of It
Felt Like Love (2013) and Beach Rats
(2017), this director has a history of exploring young girls in uncomfortable
situations, accentuating youthful sexual desires gone awry and the internalized
wasteland it can lead to, creating portraits of identity confusion filled with psychological
ambiguities, with characters alienated from themselves and others, yet
clamoring for love and attention, which they don’t know how to get at their
tender young ages, instead pretending to be aloof and disaffected. This film feels like a logical extension of
her earlier work, unvarnished, balancing fear and hope, infused with tension, offering
inordinate intimacy, filled with moments of horror, dread, and personal
resolve, ultimately becoming a story of resistance.
Autumn works as a cashier at a local supermarket along with
her cousin Skylar (Talia Ryder), both the same age, best friends who look after
each other, both sensing early on that it’s just easier being a guy, fewer
hassles to deal with, yet one of the creepiest aspects of their job is handing
in the money envelopes at the end of their shifts to the store manager, handed
through a small window, where he grabs and kisses their hands, oppressive
circumstances they are forced to endure as a routine aspect of working there,
living in an economically bleak and depressing town with no prospects of a
better future. When Autumn misses a day
for medical reasons, Skylar questions what’s the matter, answered by a retching
in the employee rest room, having visited a local women’s health center and
discovering she’s pregnant, shown a hideous anti-abortion video, expressing
little interest. Her initial answer to
that was to bloodily self-inflict a nose-ring piercing, reasserting command
over her own body (though in a movie goof, the ring appears later in a different
nostril). She and her cousin brace for
what’s next, exploring options through the Internet, discovering minors in her
state require parental consent, which for her is not an option, attempting
unsuccessfully to self-abort, leaving bruises on her stomach, eventually deciding
to travel to New York City for the nearest Planned Parenthood facility. Skylar steals some cash from the grocery till
for their journey, packs a suitcase, and the two sneak out together at the
crack of dawn hopping on a bus, immediately encountering a talkative young man
their age who takes an interest, Jasper, played by Théodore Pellerin, last seen
in an electrifying, over-the-edge performance in the Sophie Dupuis
dysfunctional family drama Family
First (Chien de Garde) (2018), offering one of the most riveting performances
of the year. While Jasper is a stranger,
he’s also perfectly friendly, perhaps overly friendly masking unseen intentions,
where it’s important to note their mindset, which is to view him as a potential
threat, remaining guarded throughout, lying if necessary to keep him off track,
never revealing their real intentions. Their
arrival to New York is like entering foreign territory, as they’re completely
unfamiliar with how to get around, having only an address written on a piece of
paper, but end up spending plenty of time on subways, more than they wish, as
things don’t go exactly as planned. The
initial medical assessment reveals she’s farther along in her pregnancy than
she thought, already in the second trimester, so they can’t assist her, requiring
a referral to a different Planned Parenthood location, stunned to realize it’s
a two-day procedure. Having no place to
stay overnight, they’re shooed out of the bus station between 1 am and 5:30 am,
spending most of the night riding the subway, but late night sex perverts send
them running off again in a hurry, offering a subterranean feel of late night
haunts where “You’re forced to interact with people who are just nothing like
you,” including night owls in arcades or bars spilling out onto the street, discovering
an indifferent city that never sleeps, allowing them no safe refuge.
Their early morning arrival to the new facility is laced in
an eerie Surrealistic atmosphere, as the streets are lined by pro-life
supporters chanting slogans and singing songs, carrying crucifixes, feeling
like a tent revival meeting, where the sight is something to behold. Inside is another story, as the center is
staffed by medical professionals who exhibit extreme care when interviewing
each patient, asking personal questions that they’ve likely never been asked
before, revealing heartbreaking silences that inadvertently reveal the answers. This kind of gut-wrenching realism is rare in
today’s cinema, as it places viewers in someone else’s shoes, forcing us to empathize
with their circumstance and feel their fears.
The intense isolation is only magnified, as she’s there alone, having no
one else to turn to, perhaps more vulnerable than at any other moment of her
life, where there is no mention of the father.
The fact that he is nowhere in the picture takes us back to that earlier
family dysfunction, where the likely culprit is the stepfather, causing viewers
to only shudder with horror. She really
has no other options, where this is uniquely a woman’s story, facing depths of
emotion that no men ever have to experience, adding feminist repurcussions that
only magnify the situation, having to confront the inner demons without ever
uttering a word about it, yet showing the various stages of minutiae in
meticulous detail. A social worker (Kelly
Chapman, an actual counselor) gently guides her through the process, filmed in
one continuous shot, the camera holding on Autumn’s face, as only then does the
title reveal its significance, Never Rarely Sometimes
Always - Clinic Scene YouTube (4:39), where the untold power of these
moments is excruciating, acknowledging, much like the opening scene, the
unspeakable power a man can hold over a woman, violating her in the worst way, yet
she holds her ground, refusing to be demoralized or defeated. The support system at the clinic is all she’s
got, as otherwise she goes through this ordeal alone, spending every last dime
on the procedure, having to maintain her resolve through yet another weary
night. Inexplicably, they rely upon Jasper
again (who else do they know?), where he’s eager for something to happen,
inviting them to go bowling, where he and Skylar have a connection over beer
before singing karaoke, with Autumn breaking out into a downbeat version of Don't Let the Sun Catch You
Crying - Gerry and The ... YouTube (2:34).
As the evening progresses, Autumn is left alone while Skylar embarks
upon what she has to do to get money home, yet there are wonderful unspoken
moments that exist between the two women that are unforgettable expressions of
unconditional love. The fragility
expressed onscreen is indescribable, accentuated by an underlying musical
mosaic that exudes a haunting tenderness.
By the time the ordeal is over, it’s as if these are two different
women, having endured so much pain together, yet having survived, adapting to unforeseen
circumstances and prevailing, yet dreading the chilly future that surely awaits
them both. In something of a surprise,
the song over the final credits is actually sung by the actress playing the mother,
Sharon Van Etten, 'Never
Rarely Sometimes Always' (2020)-Soundtrack:"Staring at a Mountain" by
Sharon Van Etten/Lyrics YouTube (4:03), sounding like something out of Jonathan
Caouette’s laceratingly personal film Tarnation
(2003).
by writer/director Eliza Hittman
On behalf of Focus Features and the cast and crew of Never Rarely Sometimes Always, I would
like to thank Charles S. Cohen and the entire staff of Landmark Theatres for
exhibiting the film; I applaud your bravery for helping us get this film seen,
particularly in places in the U.S. where reproductive rights are under
threat. The spark for my new film came in 2012, when a woman named Savita
Halappanavar died of blood poisoning in a hospital in Galway after being
refused a life-saving abortion. Out of devastation, I naively began to research
the history of abortion rights in Ireland. In a country where abortion was
criminalized, I became fascinated to learn that women who needed abortions were
forced to travel from Ireland to England.
I began to read more and more about Ireland’s hidden diaspora and saw a compelling untold narrative about ‘women on the run’ traveling with the unbearable burden of shame. These migratory abortion trails also exist within our own country from rural areas with limited and restrictive access, past state lines and into progressive cities. Through extensive research and interviews over several years I developed this script. After premiering Beach Rats at Sundance in 2017 and following the inauguration of Trump, I felt an urgent need to make this film now. The fate of a woman’s fundamental right to access is at risk. If Roe v. Wade is attacked and abortion made illegal nationwide, how far will we have to travel?
Savita Halappanavar’s death revolutionized Ireland. It unified feminist groups throughout the country and galvanized a movement to reverse the cruel Eighth Amendment that recognizes the life of a mother and a fetus as being equal. They were activated because her identity was not anonymous. She had a name, a face, a warm smile that the country could feel and mourn. The abortion ban was historically repealed last May.
Amidst such a fraught moment in U.S. history, it’s hard not to ask myself how I am doing in my artistic practice can create change. Women’s issues are global issues. By taking a social and political issue and demonstrating its impact on one individual or character, my goal is to find ways to get past our audiences’ defenses against this stigmatized subject and open people up to confronting difficult realities.
As an extension of my body of work, the film balances realism and lyricism, beauty and horror, fear and hope. It is infused with intimacy, discomfort, tension and truth. It will ignite controversy and conversation. Never Rarely Sometimes Always is ultimately a story about resistance and will perhaps even inspire change.
I began to read more and more about Ireland’s hidden diaspora and saw a compelling untold narrative about ‘women on the run’ traveling with the unbearable burden of shame. These migratory abortion trails also exist within our own country from rural areas with limited and restrictive access, past state lines and into progressive cities. Through extensive research and interviews over several years I developed this script. After premiering Beach Rats at Sundance in 2017 and following the inauguration of Trump, I felt an urgent need to make this film now. The fate of a woman’s fundamental right to access is at risk. If Roe v. Wade is attacked and abortion made illegal nationwide, how far will we have to travel?
Savita Halappanavar’s death revolutionized Ireland. It unified feminist groups throughout the country and galvanized a movement to reverse the cruel Eighth Amendment that recognizes the life of a mother and a fetus as being equal. They were activated because her identity was not anonymous. She had a name, a face, a warm smile that the country could feel and mourn. The abortion ban was historically repealed last May.
Amidst such a fraught moment in U.S. history, it’s hard not to ask myself how I am doing in my artistic practice can create change. Women’s issues are global issues. By taking a social and political issue and demonstrating its impact on one individual or character, my goal is to find ways to get past our audiences’ defenses against this stigmatized subject and open people up to confronting difficult realities.
As an extension of my body of work, the film balances realism and lyricism, beauty and horror, fear and hope. It is infused with intimacy, discomfort, tension and truth. It will ignite controversy and conversation. Never Rarely Sometimes Always is ultimately a story about resistance and will perhaps even inspire change.
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