Never Let Go (2024)

Score: 4 / 5

Alexandre Aja, master of thrilling set pieces and isolated, harrowing locations, scales things back a bit in his most recent film. Eschewing the visual excesses of his most recent theatrical feature Crawl, here he embraces the isolation of paranoia and how the insular family can become its own worst enemy. The horrors on display here are sometimes physicalized but are generally meant to be understood as extensions or manifestations of what is likely mental illness. Aja carefully balances his horror to avoid this becoming an "issue" movie, but there is a lot to appreciate here, and it's easily one of the better horror movies of 2024. 

More a parable than a realistic story, we're introduced to "Momma," Halle Berry's otherwise unnamed character, a single mother living in a humble but nice cabin in the middle of a dense forest. Her two sons, Nolan and Samuel, live under a strict code of survival rules dictated to them by Momma daily, especially the titular mantra, referring to lengthy ropes they use to literally tether themselves to their front porch while venturing out to scavenge and forage for sustenance. It's not a wholly unfamiliar idea, not in the years since The Village and especially A Quiet Place, and Momma tells of an infectious evil out in the woods that will surely get them if they ever leave the rope behind. Symbolic of health measures (read: masks or vaccines, perhaps, in the age of Covid) or of family ties (read: umbilical cord), the rope connection must be maintained at all costs, literally tying all three characters to their home. If the bond is severed, the evil entity will infect its victim, who will bring it home and they will all die as a result. That much is clear.

What's not always clear is exactly what's out there in the woods. The boys cannot see anything, at least not yet; only Momma can see the evil, which we are permitted to see as well, taking the form of zombified versions of Momma's abusive mother and wicked husband, now-dead loved ones from their past whose behaviors are slowly suggested, providing us some work to piece together exactly who Momma is and why she behaves as she does. She goes to all lengths to save her children when, one day, a sibling rivalry stemming from doubt about her dogma results in Nolan stepping on Samuel's rope and causing his brother to fall down an embankment, lose his rope, and break his ankle. Nolan, immediately regretful, lets go of his own rope; when Momma saves them from a ghoul only she can see, she punishes Nolan in the cabin's crawlspace like a quarantine measure, ensuring he is not infected as she treats Samuel's injury.

The acting among these three -- and the screenplay that allows them all moments to shine -- is remarkable. Berry, in a thankless, ugly role, performs with a grit and determination we haven't seen from her in years. Gaunt and starving, the family never looks good, and they tend to behave even worse, though her love and concern for her children is never less than palpable. Her desperation feels at first earned and believable, to us and to her children, but as we experience life among them, we begin to suspect, along with Nolan, that she might be unwell and that their lives might be better without their bonds. Nolan and Samuel themselves, played by Percy Daggs IV and Anthony B. Jenkins, respectively, play off each other dynamically, at times with brotherly affection and at times with the bitterest hatred, especially when tension reaches a deadly breaking point.

Starving and unwell, Momma makes a terrible choice that could just as easily be read as psychological punishment for Nolan, who has an intimate connection with the family dog. I won't spoil what happens, but this sequence nearly destroyed me, and things only escalate from this roughly midpoint climax through the furiously paced second half. It's a daring storytelling choice that then allows us ample time to dwell in its implications when the boys must subsequently determine their own course of actions. Will their mother's dogma dictate the rest of their lives, however short and hungry that might be? When an outside visitor materializes and the boys can see him -- horror of horrors -- should they accept his aid or suspiciously ward him off, as their mother would have?

A heady mix of possibilities, this horror works best in not quite defining the limits of its metaphysical scope. Mental illness, trauma (both psychological and spiritual), abusive parents, sibling rivalry, and of course the ever-present threat of evil manifesting just outside, Never Let Go offers boons for anyone willing to abide in its intentionally half-baked ideas. Could Momma have been driven mad years ago and is now dealing with that? Are evil spirits loose in the woods, hunting their family and its mystical ancestral cabin? Aja's attuned sense of effective scares -- both those lurking in the background of wide shots and those that pop out with stinging musical hits -- keep this a fun and entertaining ride that constantly leaves you on the edge of your seat for the next emotional pitfall. The performances (and screenplay) balance various readings remarkably well, leaving a haunting remembrance of the film long after its credits have rolled.