Female Filmmaker February (pt. III)
Never Rarely Sometimes Always
Plan B
Throughout this month, my goal has been to explore different and compelling films made by women. The female filmmakers we’ve observed so far have dared to challenge outdated narratives, and have managed to tell challenging stories without making them feel arduous or disingenuous. Tonight’s two films were no exception, despite the fact that to some audiences, their stories might be considered controversial. Both of these films deal with abortion, birth control, contraception, bodily autonomy, and a woman’s right to choose so if any of those topics make you uncomfortable I suggest you stop reading now—and might I also suggest a lobotomy? I wanted to view movies that are centered around this topic for the simple fact that so many films include abortion plot lines: Dirty Dancing, Citizen Ruth, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, The Cider House Rules, Play It As It Lays, Vera Drake, Obvious Child (my favorite), and almost Juno. In film we’re not afraid of discussing any subject matter, but in day-to-day life, we love to make reproductive rights seem taboo and we love to control uteruses as much as possible. I won’t get into the stats about how nearly 1 in 4 women will have an abortion by the time they are 45, and I won’t get into the fact that the states with the highest teen pregnancy rates are also the ones who have the most abortion restrictions and teach abstinence-only sex-ed, I’ll just say that I’ve always found it bizarrely frustrating how we’re able to confront these topics rather honestly and respectfully in film, but not in real life. Both of tonight’s films belong to a sub genre of the abortion film sub genre: the abortion odyssey. And while both interpretations of unwanted pregnancies differed immensely, the message was the same in each. Eliza Hittman’s 2020 film Never Rarely Sometimes Always was one that expertly captured the dull, aching pain of being a woman. We open on a colorful and dreamy high school talent show, where melodic, vaguely 50s doo-wop style music accompanies various groups of student performers. The tone shifts entirely when our protagonist Autumn steps on stage and begins to sing a haunting, troubling song she’s written. We see her family and best friend in the audience, and hear snot-nosed teen boys calling her dirty names as she alludes to an abusive relationship in her lyrics, and strums along on her guitar. Her family seems chaotic, her cashier job seems miserable, and this heavy feeling of tension that Autumn has to carry around with her only worsens when she goes to a “women’s crisis center” and finds out she’s pregnant. That tension turns into dread as the women at the “clinic” congratulate Autumn, and then the dread turns into anxiety when her and her best friend set off on a trip outside of their small Pennsylvania town, and head to a Planned Parenthood in New York. Autumn has few options, and according to the unrelenting women from the pregnancy center who keep calling her, she only has one option. Thankfully, Autumn has a choice in this movie, and a very good friend who helps her every step of the way. Some of the shots in this film were so intimate and sweet, but then the view would become oh so harsh, cold, isolated, crowded, frantic, and at many points, hopeless—the looks of concern constantly on our protagonists’ faces matched my own looks of concern while watching it all play out. Pregnancy can be a truly beautiful thing, but one thing this film did an excellent job of was showing how it can be a monstrous thing as well. Similarly to Outrage, this film perfectly captured the neediness, the handsyness, the grotesqueness, the entitlement, and the expectations of men, which was simultaneously hard and cathartic to watch. Breakout star Sidney Flanigan was impeccable, to the point where I have to ask: where the hell is her Oscar? Her performance, along with its really raw, honest storytelling, meant it wasn’t always pleasing to watch, but it felt real. I felt for Autumn, and I feel for every other young girl that isn’t ready to be a mom. Never Rarely Sometimes Always was very painful at times, but once I reached the end of the film, a tremendous wave of relief washed over me and I couldn’t help but smile. This is most definitely going on my list of movies I loved that I never need to see again, but I’m really glad that I watched it. Plan B, on the other hand, is a movie that I already see myself rewatching over and over again. Natalie Morales’ 2021 abortion odyssey was technically a quest for the plan b pill, but it still belongs in the canon of wonderful, surprisingly-hilarious, honest but sweet abortion comedies. Plan B follows one weekend in the lives of best friends Sunny (Kuhoo Verma) and Lupe (Victoria Moroles), where they throw a party, Sunny loses her virginity, and very quickly our heroes realize that they must embark on a journey to find the morning after pill. Plan B was a true-blue odyssey: full of threats and dangers and uncertain circumstances that kept the jokes consistent while maintaining decently high stakes. It was the chick-buddy comedy I’ve been missing for years, with touches of Harold and Kumar and Booksmart—a crossover I didn’t know I needed. Plan B very cleverly made fun of the archaic standards and practices of our sexually-repressed and obsessed society, poking fun at the weird notions we have about sex, virginity, birth control, bodily autonomy, and sexual orientation. Something about this movie felt familiar, while also being entirely unique. The music was unexpectedly fun, and the cast superb and lovable with memorable cameos from Rachael Dratch, Edi Patterson, Moses Storm, and Josh Ruben. It was raunchy when it needed to be, and tender when I least expected it. How joyous it felt to watch something that could be handled with urgency and terror, instead be handled with sincerity and whimsy and a really funny sense of humor. These films may not be cathartic or entertaining or important to everyone, including people who have had similar experiences, but the very fact that these movies are being made and these stories are being told is, even in 2022, bold and revolutionary. I try to avoid being preachy or overly-controversial, but when it comes to a woman’s right to choose and the movies made about them, I’ll stand on that soapbox any day.
Below are some links to donate to places that offer funds + aid to people who need abortions in Texas, so if you don’t have time to watch these movies, maybe you have time to help someone in need.
