Mother, May I (2023) unfolds like a quiet storm, drawing viewers into a secluded home where unease settles into every corner. A couple arrives seeking healing and reconnection, but the space around them begins to whisper with old memories and shifting identities. What starts as a romantic retreat soon twists into a psychological maze where trust becomes fragile.

The film centers on a man who slowly realizes that something in the house is rewriting the emotional landscape of his relationship. His fiancée, played with layered intensity by Holland Roden, begins to display behaviors that echo someone from his past, pulling him into a troubling mix of doubt, longing, and fear. The story thrives on subtle gestures and charged silences, making each scene feel like a clue to a deeper truth.

As the tension deepens, the narrative explores themes of grief, emotional inheritance, and the ways love can blur into control when boundaries fade. The house becomes a living presence—a place that mirrors unresolved wounds and amplifies every vulnerability between the couple. The sense of intimacy is constant, but it’s threaded with an unpredictability that keeps the viewer alert.

Holland Roden delivers a magnetic performance, shifting effortlessly between tenderness and unsettling intensity. Her presence anchors the film’s psychological tone, giving every interaction a simmering edge. The dynamic between the two leads becomes the heartbeat of the story, guiding the audience through layers of identity and emotional unraveling.