2020 Top Ten List #5 Never Rarely Sometimes Always

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’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.

Family First (Chien de Garde)

Director Sophie Dupuis

Director Sophie Dupuis on the set with actors Théodore Pellerin (left) and Jean-Simon Leduc (right)

Cameraman Mathieu Laverdière

Mathieu Laverdière with actor Théodore Pellerin

FAMILY FIRST (Chien de Garde)               B-                   

aka:  Watch Dog

Canada  (88 mi)  2018 d:  Sophie Dupuis

The first-time feature film from this young Canadian writer/director is a throwback to earlier styles, David Michôd’s Animal Kingdom (2010), Robin Pront’s The Ardennes (D’Ardennen) (2015), or even the Safdie Brother’s Good Time (2017), all dysfunctional family crime dramas with a frenetic pace to them, though there are similarities to Xavier Dolan’s 2015 Top Ten List #1 Mommy as well, featuring a young man whose untreated personality disorder only exacerbates with age and the onset of puberty, as it tends to explode at the worst times.  Two brothers are basically enforcers in their family’s protection racket in Montreal, the more laid-back big brother JP (Jean-Simon Leduc), who has a stable girlfriend Mel (Claudel Laberge), and his off-the-wall 19-year old brother Vincent (Théodore Pellerin), whose disturbing behavior problems drive this film, an uncontrolled monster who’s so out of his mind most of the time that JP continually has to reel him back in, with Pellerin offering one of the breakout performances of the year, filled with raw energy, impossible to forget, simply overwhelming most of the time, reminiscent of Robert De Niro’s Johnny Boy in Mean Streets (1973), a crazed force that borders on being a mentally deranged criminal psychopath.  To top it off, they live with their alcoholic mother (Maude Guérin) who goes on and off the wagon, completely helpless when it comes to the exasperatingly annoying habits of Vincent, who crawls into bed with her all the time, with suggestions of incest.  Wherever Vincent is, on the street, in clubs, or at home, he’s an absolute disaster driving everyone else batty, though he’s an imposing and threatening force capable of doing anything, not easy to contend with, especially for JP, who loves his brother, always looking out for him, but couldn’t be more worn out and exhausted just trying to calm him down all the time and keep him out of trouble.  It turns out they work for their uncle Dany (Paul Ahmarani), who runs a drug business out of his bar in Montreal’s working class neighborhood of Verdun, employed as debt collectors, with instructions to rough people up if they don’t pay, to do damage, a job Vincent sadistically thrives on, as it gives him an adrenaline rush.  The in-your-face intensity level of the opening wave of energy is just off the charts, where these guys turn into party boys at night, thrill seekers roaming the clubs, drinking and dancing and doing drugs like there’s no tomorrow, using dizzying handheld camerawork from Mathieu Laverdière as they roam through the city streets like they own it.   

While the criminal code is to look out for your family first, a creed JP lives by while trying to finish his training as an electrician, but Mel, who lives with him in his mother’s home, finds Vincent too intensely tormenting, as she can barely get in or out of there without having to endure his crude taunts that feel more like sexual harassment, where she has to put up with the creepy way he carries on with his mother, and is literally a psycho on the street.  So from the outset, Mel is urging JP to move out, but he’s torn by the idea, as he realizes what a load his brother is, and doesn’t think Vincent could survive without him, as he needs constant attention and reassurance, where he may be the only person in the world who can calm him down.  As we follow the brothers in their daily routines, much like the Harvey Keitel character of Charlie in Mean Streets, JP is grappling with his developing moral conscience, as he realizes his uncle is a thug who couldn’t care less about Vincent, but is willing to exploit his uncontrollable behavior to his advantage, as the guy’s a scary proposition even for hardened criminals to handle, as he doesn’t think things through, but just reacts to each situation with an explosive force.  When they’re sent to collect money from a single mother in front of her children, JP draws the line, refusing to beat her up in front of her children, something Vincent has no qualms doing, as he’s always eager to unleash with his typical physical ferocity.  While Mel and JP have a calmer and more rational relationship, without all the drama, his family is a minefield of unexploded bombs, where anywhere you step something’s liable to explode, where he’s growing tired of taking all the incidental hits of emotional shrapnel, where each day is another waiting disaster.  Guérin’s larger than life performance as the mother of all mood swings might recall Jacki Weaver in Animal Kingdom who just wants to love “the boys,” knowing they are cold blooded criminals, but in this case she hasn’t a clue what she’s doing.  While the opening is a fast-paced, visceral thrill fest, the second half slows down considerably, growing more contemplative as JP is up against it, especially with his equally determined uncle, and a brother that he simply can’t handle 24-hours a day.   For a first film, the acting is exceptional, with Pellerin and Maude Guérin winning Canadian film awards presented annually in the mainly French-speaking film industry in Québec, along with another award for best editing, while this film has also been chosen as the Canadian film entered into the Academy Award Best Foreign Film competition.    

Ostensibly a wild ride through the criminal underworld trying to bite off just a bit more than they can chew, where Dany grows overambitious, thinking he can eliminate his problems by taking care of the competition, but JP realizes where this is heading and isn’t remotely interested in becoming a hit man, where he’d likely spend the rest of his life running or rotting in jail, but Dany won’t take no for an answer, and if JP refuses, there’s always Vincent.  JP tries to reason with him, reminding him of Vincent’s mental deficiencies, where he’s already unstable enough as it is, suggesting that would put him over the edge and likely be the end of him, as he’s hardly a professional.  Dany’s unconcerned, claiming it’s all a matter of business, putting money ahead of family, while Vincent thrives on the idea of being important, loving the limelight and a chance to show up his older brother.  Amped up on rap music, even a battle of profanity-laden rappers that viciously go at one another, like a test of testosterone, while the already erratic Vincent starts to become unhinged, not used to being the top dog on the block, while JP becomes the lone figure in his family capable of holding it all together, even as it’s coming apart at the seams.  It’s an ambitious character-driven thriller that reeks of uncomfortable confrontations, with viewers literally squirming in their seats every time Vincent acts up, which is nonstop and neverending.  Truly, you’ve never seen a performance like this, as its jawdroppingly creepy.  It’s inconceivable that no one would ever think to get help for this kid, as he’s crying out for it, but his family has always had other concerns going mano a mano, where each carries their own weight, like gunslingers from the Wild West.  Growing up without a mother (too drunk to care), JP has been the man of the family from an early age, going through a tremendous amount of psychological and emotional pressure, always having to adjust to any situation and show his resilience.  Mel as a calming influence seems to tip the scales towards another alternative, where he won’t have to go on suicidal missions, but how can he protect Vincent, who’s already in troubled waters?  Growing darker and murkier as things veer out of control, the pace of the film slows to a crawl, as viewers wait and wonder what will happen.  This young director is in the Kathryn Bigelow mode, having more balls than most male directors, where she seems to flourish at the challenge.