“All We Have To Give” isn’t interested in reinventing familiar formulas when it comes to its unsettling twist, in which eerie spirits visit a remote cabin in the woods. It’s also not afraid to draw minor comparisons to “Bird Box,” with its inclusion of a protective mother and her two young children trying to escape an evil entity haunting their world. Still, director Alexandre Aja’s psychologically dense film forges its own path, putting us right in the middle of a family’s grisly, deepening crisis and deftly drawing its horrors from its interpersonal and intrapersonal conflicts. Though not all of its clever ideas come together efficiently in the finale, its thematic musings on grief, reason, rebellion and redemption are inextricably linked, creating a harrowing, claustrophobic effect that heightens the hallucinatory terrors and fear-drenched atmospheric appeal.
Momma (Halle Berry) has hidden her fraternal twins Samuel (Anthony B. Jenkins) and Nolan (Percy Daggs IV) in her parents’ remote, rustic cabin in the overgrown wilderness. The tall trees that surround the property act like a cage, trapping the trio in its bark and branches. But instead of imprisoning them, it actually keeps them away from the horrors of society.
According to Momma, the world around them is infected with evil, and insidious demons lie in wait, seeking to capture their pure hearts the moment they step off their porch steps. The trio must tie themselves to the house with a long, thick rope every time they leave, and upon their return, perform a series of daily rituals—such as praying while touching a decorative door in the floor and meditating in the small storage room below—to keep their off-grid sanctuary mysteriously functioning.
Unfortunately, this close-knit family’s sheltered life begins to crumble when Samuel accidentally slips off the line and breaks his ankle during a dangerous foraging trip, while Nolan drops the cable to save his brother. Naturally, Momma rushes to save the two from a sinister, snake-tongued devil disguised as their dead mother (Kathryn Kirkpatrick) who taunts them but cannot touch them. However, only Momma sees this ominous vision, causing Nolan to question the monsters she warns them about in her grim bedtime stories that usually keep them docile. He suspects his mother is doing more harm than good. While Nolan tries to convince Samuel to challenge Momma’s authority, their food supplies are running low due to drastic environmental changes. And just as their situation reaches its worst moment, the brothers’ relationship changes, weakening their strong bond.
As Aja’s previous films, from “High Tension” to his remake of “The Hills Have Eyes,” demonstrate, the French genre director’s strength lies in stories about ordinary people caught in seemingly insurmountable, nightmarish situations. Each film is told with a deliberate focus on brevity, which tightens the narrative’s pace and twists. The same goes for the way Aja fearlessly explores similarly grim, escalating circumstances in “Never Let Go,” developing a sense of how to speak to the shared universal fears of both the characters and the audience fighting to survive.
Aja and screenwriters KC Coughlin and Ryan Grassby give their troubled protagonists lean, mean and neatly constructed scenarios that heighten both tension and empathy. We genuinely care about their puzzles and simmering conflicts, and we anticipate the grim day when their resources run out – shown in a time-lapse montage as their pantry and greenhouse are ravaged by time. Editor Elliot Greenberg’s cuts, composer Rob’s discordant, synth-heavy score and DP Maxime Alexandre’s cool lighting prepare us for the calamity.
The situation escalates when a starving Samuel and Nolan are faced with a tense fight-or-flight catalyst involving the family dog. Here, too, the work of Jenkins and Daggs shines. A huge responsibility rests on their small shoulders to carry the film with the naturalism and introspection they bring to the material. The young actors deliver heartbreaking vulnerability and nuanced, captivating performances.
The film’s scares aren’t limited to cheap shock moments from creepy creatures, although those are unfortunately present too. Rather, the more devastating aspects revolve around how the insidiousness of evil tears this happy, loving family apart, causing doubt, discord and deception, leading to heated arguments and hellish outcomes. The back-and-forth of the main conflict between Momma, who desperately wants to protect her sons from the evil she’s witnessed, and her boys, whose divided beliefs are tested in the third act, is highly relatable. Berry brilliantly humanizes and grounds this flawed mother figure, giving her wit, wisdom and a rich interiority. In a lesser actor, Momma’s cruel punishments would seem cheesy. But in Berry’s hands, this woman’s blunt stoicism masks deep pain and possibly a struggle with mental illness. Her actions, scars and disgusting tattoos provide unspoken clues to Mama’s upbringing, rebellion and repentance.
From the beginning of our journey to the final seconds before the credits roll, we are constantly left guessing whether these monsters are real or if they are malevolent apparitions caused by cabin fever. It seems like it’s meant to inspire debate, as there really are terrible evils in the world. If there’s anything this fantastic campfire story lacks, though, it’s a clever, satisfying ending. It’s probably the only time Never Let Go loses its grip on us.
