She Dies Tomorrow
Death is a terrifying yet inescapable fact of life. Most people try incredibly hard to avoid even considering their eventual expiration, but She Dies Tomorrow, the second feature from writer/director Amy Seimetz, fixates on the end. Unfortunately, that fascination leads nowhere, though there are many talented people to watch along the way.
Kate Lyn Sheil, one of the six performers in Seimetz’s debut feature Sun Don’t Shine, stars in the mumblecore thriller. Her character, Amy, is a recovering addict who believes with every ounce of her being that tomorrow will be the day she dies. There is no explanation for why she feels this way, but her belief is unwavering, and every minute she spends on screen is filled with utter hopelessness. Nothing matters anymore, and she’s not sure anything did in the first place.
When Amy shares her knowledge with a friend (Jane Adams, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), the latter begins to believe they too will perish the following day. Much like a virus, the impending demise that Amy seems so certain of begins spreading to anyone who hears it. When her friend tells others that they now believe death is just hours away, those who hear the message begin to feel similarly. Before long, every character in the film becomes a shell of their former self, wandering from scene to scene like zombies in search of meaning. Some are scared, but most are accepting. After all, what else are they supposed to do?
She Dies Tomorrow is built on an undeniably creative conceit, but the script has no grasp on what to do with it. Beyond establishing a sense of creeping existential dread, Seimetz has nothing to say about death or our fear of the unknown. Her characters stare off into the distance while discussing unimportant matters and looking disheveled. They have nothing to do, and we have no reason to care because the film spends approximately zero time whatsoever developing them.
Sheil, who has become synonymous with indie existentialism, does more than most to sell the film. Her presence balances nihilism with romanticism and conveys the idea that everything happens for a reason, even if that reason is chaos. Amy welcomes death because she already feels detached from the rest of the world. It’s the inevitable next step in a life that, as far as we can tell, has been a constant series of heartaches and struggles.
Production-wise, She Dies Tomorrow does as much as possible with a shoestring budget. Homes nestled in the Hollywood hills provide a rich tapestry of West Coast aesthetics that feel as hollow as the bodies that inhabit them. The film also repeatedly uses a variety of flashing lights to convey some type of ominous presence, but its meaning and impact are left unexplored.
For as much as Seimetz seems to ruminate on the emptiness of existence, She Dies Tomorrow feels painfully pointless. It’s a Lars Von Trier film without teeth. Viewers have no reason to engage with anything on screen, and the characters being viewed have nothing to do. If you cut every long, mostly silent shot of people gazing off-screen at nothing, the already scant 84-minute runtime would be halved. Everything that remains, albeit intriguing, doesn’t amount to much.
Grade: D-minus. Rated R. Available to rent via Apple, Amazon Video, and other streaming services.
(Photo: Neon)
