What a stunning film Never Die is. Though this minimalist, Mexico-set beauty could be feasibly reduced to a much shorter length – what writer/director Enrique Rivero has to say about life and death, in the story of middle-aged farmer’s wife Chayo (Margarita Saldaña) caring for her dying mother, could amount to a 30-minute short – you’d have to sacrifice the luxurious long takes, and the series of wondrous, sun-dappled shots that stand in for a narrative. Taking place on Chayo’s family farm, local town Xochimilco – a suburb of Mexico City – and the river that runs between the two, Never Die begins with an unhurried, single-shot journey down-river then proceeds to capture the end of one life as new life begins to flourish around it.
Picking out the beauty in a place where it’s hard to come by, Rivero’s camera doesn’t film these moments but caresses them: a farming tool slices through wet mud like it’s rich cake, as Chayo’s husband prepares to plant seeds for the season ahead; a spider swims through a rusty bucket of water, its legs reaching out as it strides from one end to the other; a candle sitting by Chayo’s side slowly falls and extinguishes itself as she prays. The film is both literally and figuratively religious: the Xochimilco community attend church en-masse, where they’re warned by the local priest to remain forever God-fearing, while Rivero films Chayo’s trips to and from town like they’re small pilgrimages. What’s more, with dialogue so sparse, the film at points seemingly takes on a vow of silence.
It’s hard to know if the title is intended as a promise or as words of encouragement. For one, Never Die‘s spiritual roots suggest a firm belief in rebirth. It claims life is a trial, full of hard work and few rewards (Chayo and family tirelessly till the land, but still live a hardscrabble existence under the roof of a leaky old shack), with the only real solace found in the splendor of Mother Nature. Death, which finally comes after a day of ever-decreasing gasps, is a release for the family’s 99-year-old matriarch. On the other hand, Rivero favours a change in direction for protagonist Chayo – for her, he wants some remaining inner hope to spur her on to new beginnings, far away from a place where she’s never felt at home.
Some story elements underwhelm – a late revelation about Chayo’s husband doesn’t have the impact that it should, and the climax, too, arrives a little abruptly. Rivero has already taken his film about dying to its inevitable conclusion by this point, but rushes his final statement on rebirth. This doesn’t greatly knock the wind out of Never Die, however, as Rivero’s film has only modest storytelling ambitions to begin with. The film, ultimately, will be too slight for some, but those who rejoice in the power of the moving image – especially when the image is this carefully framed – will take the 78-minute gaze.
