Mommy Issues Get Traumatic in Horror Acting Showcase Mother, May I?

Laurence Vannicelli’s Mother, May I? is messy with intention. Why? Because repressed trauma is messy. Doing the work to heal ourselves is messy. Crushing grief, allowing acceptance, and mommy issues are all messy. Mother, May I? fits the Trauma Horror™ mold with a backpedal on “horror,” but isn’t as frustratingly predictable as monsters representing inner demons or survival instincts requiring a psychological explanation. Vannicelli weaponizes therapy-speak where other titles become preachy, uses role-playing as an abusive confusion tactic, and provokes a rather alluring mindfuck that doesn’t have nor need all the answers to captivate viewers.
Kyle Gallner and Holland Roden are stupendous sparring partners as an engaged city-slick couple spending time in the country. Emmett (Gallner) inherited his mother’s rustic lakeside estate—a woman he shares so little about. Anya (Roden) accompanies Emmett, intending to ready the property for resale, ingest mind-altering mushrooms, and possibly help Emmett overcome repressed traumas. But when Anya starts acting possessed by the spirit of Emmett’s mother after their fungal psychedelics take effect, Emmett’s reality shatters.
Vannicelli shrouds Mother, May I? in vagueness as a destabilizing tactic. The question of whether Emmett’s deceased mother inhabits Anya’s human form or if Anya’s committing to a days-long psychiatric experiment plays coy. Teases of doors opening could be a breeze or apparition, and there’s no definitive acknowledgment of ghostplay besides a handful of scenes that could easily be daydreams, hallucinations or visual aids for the audience. Cinematographer Craig Harmer frames ghoulish teases just out of sight so as not to confirm nor deny the same, all in a beautiful chamber piece brimming with exquisite shot composition. That might frustrate watchers clamoring for stone-etched explanations, but Vannicelli’s ambivalence toward closure or reason matches the film’s existential duress.