Movies usually try to give you an out. They give you a big orchestral swell, a heroic speech, or maybe a neat little bow at the end to make sure you feel okay heading back into the real world. Never Rarely Sometimes Always doesn't do that. It just sits with you. It’s a quiet, almost suffocatingly intimate look at two teenage girls from rural Pennsylvania—Autumn and Skylar—who hop a bus to New York City because Autumn needs an abortion and can't get one without parental consent in her home state.
If you’ve seen it, you know exactly which scene gave the film its name. If you haven’t, you’ve likely seen the clips on TikTok or Instagram. It’s a single, unbroken shot. Autumn is sitting in a Planned Parenthood clinic. A social worker is asking her a series of standard screening questions about her sexual history. The answers are limited to four choices: never, rarely, sometimes, always.
It is devastating.
Director Eliza Hittman didn't just stumble onto this story. She spent years researching the logistical nightmares that people face when trying to access reproductive healthcare. This isn't a "political" movie in the way a cable news segment is political. It’s a procedural. It’s a travelogue of the mundane and the terrifying. Honestly, the most shocking thing about it isn't the medical procedure itself; it’s the sheer exhaustion of being a young woman navigating a world that feels designed to ignore your autonomy.
The Reality of the "Choice"
Most people think of the abortion debate as a series of slogans. Never Rarely Sometimes Always moves past the slogans to show the actual math. Autumn, played by Sidney Flanigan in a performance that somehow feels both raw and totally guarded, is seventeen. She works as a cashier. She doesn't have a car. She doesn't have a supportive father—in fact, the father figure in her house is a borderline verbal abuser who calls the family dog "slut."
When she finds out she’s pregnant at a local "crisis pregnancy center," she’s met with a fake kindness that masks a very specific agenda. They show her a video designed to shame her. They lie to her about how far along she is. This is a real-world tactic documented extensively by organizations like the American Medical Association, which has noted that these centers often lack medical licensing but present themselves as clinical environments.
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The film excels because it focuses on the logistics.
How do you get to New York? You steal some money from the grocery store register. You pack a single suitcase. You take a Greyhound bus. You carry that suitcase through the subway, up and down stairs, through the rain, and into the night because you can’t afford a hotel. The film turns a three-hour bus ride into a marathon of anxiety. It captures that specific brand of teenage resilience that is both inspiring and heartbreaking because they shouldn't have to be that tough in the first place.
The "Never Rarely Sometimes Always" Scene Explained
Let's talk about the scene. The one everyone remembers.
Hittman and cinematographer Hélène Louvart chose to keep the camera tight on Autumn's face. No cuts. No music. Just the sound of a voice off-camera and the visible cracking of a girl's composure. As the questions move from "have you used protection" to "has a partner ever hit you" or "has a partner ever forced you to have sex," the weight of the titles—Never Rarely Sometimes Always—becomes a heavy, rhythmic toll.
It reveals a history of abuse without a single flashback. We realize that the pregnancy isn't just an accident; it’s a symptom of a larger, systemic pattern of being used. It’s some of the most effective storytelling in modern cinema precisely because it refuses to look away. Sidney Flanigan had never acted in a feature film before this. She was a musician Hittman found on Facebook. That lack of "Hollywood" polish makes the scene feel like a documentary. You aren't watching an actress cry; you're watching a person survive.
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Why the Ending Still Sparks Debate
The ending of the film is remarkably low-key. There’s no grand resolution. Autumn and Skylar sit in a diner, exhausted, waiting for their bus home. Skylar, played by Talia Ryder, has had to endure her own set of "minor" indignities—flirting with a pushy guy on the bus just to get enough money or a place to charge a phone.
Some viewers found the ending unsatisfying. They wanted a confrontation with the parents or a scene where Autumn finally vents her rage. But that’s not what this movie is about. It’s about the quiet endurance required to keep your life on track. The film ends with a close-up of Autumn sleeping on the bus. It’s a moment of peace, but it’s fragile.
Critics like A.O. Scott from The New York Times pointed out that the film functions as a "quietly heroic" story. It’s not about a girl making a mistake; it’s about a girl making a decision and seeing it through against the grain of her entire environment. In a post-Roe v. Wade world, the film has shifted from a contemporary drama into something that feels like a period piece and a cautionary tale all at once. The "travel ban" and parental consent laws depicted in the film have only become more complex and restrictive in many parts of the United States.
A Masterclass in Visual Storytelling
You won't find much dialogue here. Autumn is a girl of few words.
Instead, Hittman uses the environment. The sterile lights of the New York City subway. The bleak, gray landscapes of a Pennsylvania winter. The contrast is sharp. New York is portrayed not as a land of opportunity, but as a giant, confusing machine. Yet, within that machine, there are people—doctors, nurses, and advocates—who treat Autumn with a dignity she clearly doesn't get at home.
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The film relies on the "show, don't tell" rule. We see Skylar's hands shaking. We see the way Autumn pierces her own nose in a bathroom mirror—a desperate attempt to control her own body when she feels she has lost control of everything else. These small details build a character more effectively than any monologue ever could.
What the Movie Gets Right About Healthcare
The medical procedures shown are incredibly accurate.
The film doesn't sensationalize the clinic. It shows the paperwork. It shows the ultrasound (where the technician keeps the screen turned away at Autumn's request). It shows the recovery room where girls sit under blankets, sipping juice and eating crackers. It demystifies an experience that is often shrouded in hyperbole. By stripping away the melodrama, it forces the audience to look at the human reality of healthcare access.
- Parental Consent Laws: In Pennsylvania, as of the film's release and currently, minors generally need a parent's permission for the procedure.
- The Judicial Bypass: The film briefly touches on the idea of a "judicial bypass," where a judge can grant permission, but it’s portrayed as a daunting, almost impossible hurdle for a girl without a lawyer or a car.
- Financial Barriers: The cost of the procedure increases as the pregnancy progresses, a ticking clock that adds a thriller-like tension to the narrative.
Actionable Insights for Viewers and Creators
If you are a filmmaker or a writer, study the pacing of this movie. It’s a masterclass in tension without "action." If you’re a viewer looking to understand the current landscape of these issues, use the film as a starting point for research.
For Filmmakers:
- The Power of the Long Take: Use long takes to build empathy, not just to show off. The "Never Rarely Sometimes Always" interview works because we can't escape Autumn's face.
- Naturalistic Casting: Don't be afraid to look outside traditional acting schools for talent that brings a raw, authentic energy.
For Social Context:
- Check the Maps: Look at the Center for Reproductive Rights’ "Abortion Services" map to see how the landscape has changed since 2020. The journey Autumn took is now much longer for millions of people.
- Support Systems: Understand that the character Skylar represents the "unseen support"—the friend who doesn't ask questions but just shows up. Sometimes, the most important thing you can do for someone in a crisis is simply to hold their bag or pay for the bus ticket.
Never Rarely Sometimes Always is a difficult watch, but it’s an essential one. It asks you to look at a person who is usually invisible—a teenage girl in a small town with no money and a big problem—and treat her story with the gravity of an epic. It doesn't offer easy answers because, in the real world, there aren't many. It just offers the truth of the experience, one question and one answer at a time.