For sixteen years now, Halle Berry has donned the mantle of parenthood, and she's poised to unleash her inner "fierce mama bear" without hesitation, whether it's navigating real-life challenges or confronting terrifying survival scenarios on screen. In Alexandre Aja's chilling horror opus, "Never Let Go," Berry embodies Momma, a character who embarks on a desperate crusade to safeguard herself and her two young sons from an insidious Evil that she senses lurking, ready to infiltrate their lives. Is this Evil a tangible threat or merely a manifestation of her psyche? A reflection on mental health struggles or a metaphorical nod to the pandemic era? The film keeps viewers on the edge of their seats, even after its conclusion, as Berry fearlessly defends Momma's most arduous decisions.
"I intimately comprehend and resonate with the unwavering instinct to fiercely shield one's children, even when such choices diverge from societal norms," Berry declares. "Motherhood entails discarding societal judgments and steadfastly fighting for your offspring, regardless of others' perceptions."
Sam (Anthony B. Jenkins) and Nolan (Percy Daggs IV), the youthful protagonists, have only ever known life in a secluded forest cabin, where Momma insists an omnipresent Evil has eradicated the rest of the world. This sanctuary necessitates extreme measures, including rope-bound expeditions for food, lest they succumb to possession.
Berry's decision to star and produce the film stems from its profound exploration of human complexity, the intricacies of our world, and its capacity to evoke fear. The Evil assumes the form of eerie, fork-tongued corpses of her deceased parents and the children's father, whom she apparently terminated. Nolan grapples with the family's isolation and the existence of the Evil, while Sam mirrors Momma's unyielding resolve, even if it means sacrificing their beloved pet to avert starvation.
Momma's sanity teeters on the brink, Berry reveals. "If the Evil is indeed real and has confined you to a life of solitude, subsisting on bugs, squirrels, worms, and tree bark with only your sons for company, wouldn't madness be inevitable?" Yet, her character walks a precarious tightrope between protection and potential torment. Loose from the ropes, they face Momma's knife-point prayers or confinement in the cellar, lest they be infected. "If one fell victim, she'd be compelled to sacrifice them to safeguard the other and the family's greater good," Berry explains.
A pivotal sequence unfolds when Momma confronts her deceased mother's Evil avatar, the black ichor from her mouth hinting at Momma's potential role in her demise. Fearing possession and harm to her children, Momma slashes her own throat with broken glass. "Whether these visions stem from schizophrenia or some other mental affliction remains ambiguous. Yet, for her, they are as real as day," Berry says. This scene prompts a profound question: How will the boys fare without their fearless guardian? Will they survive, unraveling the truth behind the Evil? They embark on a solitary journey to find answers, each drawing their own conclusions.
"Never Let Go" leaves ample room for interpretation. Following Momma's demise, Nolan and Sam discover humanity's lingering presence when they encounter a hitchhiker, with Sam mistakenly killing him, believing him to be the Evil. Sam's descent into paranoia culminates in him betraying Nolan, setting fire to the cabin while Nolan's trapped inside, and snapping a sinister selfie with a Polaroid. Nolan miraculously escapes, and both are rescued by medics.
However, the final frame casts doubt once more, revealing a supernatural hand in Sam's Polaroid. "Each individual's perception of the ending is shaped by their identity, beliefs, and spiritual or religious convictions," Berry muses. "The beauty lies in its openness, allowing us to decipher the truth as we see it, mirroring life's diversity of perspectives and opinions. I find that utterly captivating."
