Review: ‘Never Rarely Sometimes Always,’ Eliza Hittman’s Honest and Immediate Testimony on Abortion in America
“What’s wrong?”
“Girl problems.”
Right now, in Washington DC, the Supreme Court is deliberating a case that will shape reproductive health rights in America. The case in question is June Medical Services v. Russo, and it argues whether Louisiana abortion clinics need admitting privileges to local hospitals. Sold under the guise of safety concerns, it is an essential ban on abortion in the state, reducing the number of eligible clinics in Louisiana to just one if enacted.
The debate over this particular TRAP law stems from a similarly defined 2016 Texas law that was struck down just four years ago. Now with a new coat of paint and a new conservative makeup on the bench, that ruling is being reevaluated. If the new Louisiana law is upheld, it would give rise to a litany of new TRAP laws across the United States that restrict access to reproductive health services, forcing many women to go out of their home state or travel long distances to get the treatment they need.
It is in this landscape that Eliza Hittman’s Never Rarely Sometimes Always, a film that sees a teenager traveling from Pennsylvania to New York to receive an abortion, is released. In sincere light, the director of Beach Rats and It Felt Like Love pens a honest testimony on the difficulty of getting an abortion in America through the experience of one teenager. Her struggles are laid bare on the screen, and through her we see the cracks in the system that only seem to be getting wider. But this isn’t simply a window into the procurement of a hotly debated procedure, no. It’s also a look at the social environment that gives rise to such difficulty, primarily through the lurid behavior of men. On both of these fronts, Hittman constructs an immediate work, a film that needs to be seen not only for its cinematic achievements, but also for the relevancy of its social concerns.
Autumn (Sidney Flanigan) is a seventeen year old teenager living in rural Pennsylvania. When she inadvertently becomes pregnant, she has little support to fall back on. She visits the local women’s health clinic in her town, but finds it ill-equipped and at odds with her best interest. She lives with her family, but worries about how they will react or force her to do. The sole source of support is her cousin Skylar (Talia Ryder). Together, they travel from their small town to New York City seeking an abortion with what little funds they have between them.
Narratively and stylistically, an honesty can be felt with Hittman’s address. You won’t find overt melodrama or flashy embellishments detracting from the events at hand, just a linearly progressing story with real people dealing with very real issues. It is to this point that the film feels so authentic. It’s bluntness and subdued stylings construct a dire testimony of what its like to procure an abortion in America. Something like Juno might have helped bring the conversation about teenage pregnancy to the national stage, but its romanticized sheen erected an unintended barrier, a falsehood that distanced itself from the reality many women face when they can’t have a baby under realistic circumstances.
It is through Hittman’s neorealist approach that faults in America’s reproductive health system are exposed. Social shaming, poorly funded facilities, long distance travel, and expensive costs are encountered along Autumn’s journey, but it never deters her. She knows what is best for her, and so does the audience. When we see her face hardship after hardship, we don’t question her decisions that brought her here, we question what’s wrong with the system. Why is it that her local clinic is so outdated? Why does she have to travel hundreds of miles to receive proper care? Why are there so many undue burdens?
To understand that point, Hittman contextualizes Autumn’s experience within a larger frame: what it means to live as a woman. Men in the film serve as a constant reminder of how this can come to fruition. No, they’re not literally seen making legislative policies impeding abortion, but their social behavior is, and it is how Autumn and Skylar are treated by men that shows how a nation run my a male majority values them. Sexual passes, unwarranted advances, and dubious propositions are ever-present scenarios the two come across. It is through this treatment that Hittman suggests the propagation of patriarchal policies, that if this is how women are treated in day to day life, why wouldn’t it be the same when men are making reproductive policy?
A narrative foil to this male behavior is the companionship between Autumn and Skylar. In leu of familial backing or social safety nets, Skylar is Autumn’s lone source of support, going to great lengths to help her even when Autumn succumbs to the pressure of her situation. It’s the emotional heart of the film, a kinship build on mutual understanding and female experience, and it underscores an unwavering camaraderie, one not exclusively defined on gendered lines, but also social experiences.
Hittman opted to write Never Rarely Sometimes Always after reading an article on Savita Halappanavar, a woman who died from being denied a life saving abortion in Ireland, back in 2012. Though that was eight years ago, it is no coincidence that the film’s release aligns with the events taking place on the Supreme Court, such attacks on reproductive rights have taken place for decades, but it makes it all the more immediate and pressing that the film be seen by audiences right now when there’s still something to lose and when there’s still something to fight for. If anything, Eliza Hittman’s testimony is enough to change a few minds in America when it’s needed the most.
For readers looking for more perspectives on the film, I recommend checking out Manohla Dargis’s New York Times review, as well as Devika Girish’s Sundance dispatch piece for Film Comment. I found both to be great reads after writing my own review.
