The foremost achievement of Hittman's film is that we start to feel some of that weight for ourselves; the writing and direction attain a rare psychological depth. Practically the first action Sidney takes upon returning a positive pregnancy test is calmly, methodically using a safety pin to poke a hole through her nostril: anything, we gather, to regain some measure of control over a body swelling up with uncertainty. Here as elsewhere, NRSA deploys the big, expressive close-ups that have been a staple of this director's work to date, but now they're newly urgent and piercing, seeking out signs of our heroine's scared, confused, resilient inner life, the doubts and fears mixed up with the hormones and zygotes. (It's camera as ultrasound; direction as radiology.) Hittman hardly makes her own task easy, because Sidney is almost perpetually in motion, forever being referred or redirected, moved on or bounced, and obliged to carry her baggage (lit. and fig.) around with her wherever she goes. You begin to long for her to be able just to sit down and put her feet up on a sofa, if not in the stirrups. Some of that exhaustion comes out in the film's generally exasperated and unflattering portrait of the men in Sidney's world: the errant lover (never seen, barely afforded a moment's thought), her mom's insensitive asshole of a partner, the contemporaries casually sniping at her, the creeps at her workplace and in the bowels of the New York subway. This was plainly a film written in anger - understandable anger, given that it's men who've done so much to tear down this protective legislation - but it does mean NRSA sometimes strays from the considered equanimity of Hittman's earlier work; every so often, you catch it labouring to point out that this girl has problems enough without the men in her life being such dicks. The gaze is steadier and more persuasive whenever it returns to the ordinary bravery of its heroine, thereby distancing itself from the catastrophising cosplay of TV's The Handmaid's Tale. Hittman knows there is power and editorial value in showing this process simply as it is - or as it was, before this world got rougher and tougher still for the Sidneys of America.
Never Rarely Sometimes Always is available to rent via Prime Video and YouTube.
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