#21: She Dies Tomorrow (2020) (dir. Amy Seimetz)

A contagion can lead to separation - a thought, a feeling, a disease. You live with it and would rather not share it because it’s a bit too terrifying to let others in. Time to quarantine. Sometimes that feeling is love (so it remains unrequited, unrealized) but most of the time it is something far more intrusive or unwanted. During a panic attack, the only thought that repeats inside is “I am going to die.” 

Some movies really do feel like night terrors. You don’t watch it; you are fully immersed into the feeling that the movie is creating. Having recently taken a graduate level course on review writing (granted for young adult literature), I know we’re not supposed to necessarily include ourselves in a review but there are just some experiences that I have to write about. To use a cliche, “this time it’s personal.” Ebert did it a lot. 

Some of my favorite film critics carry on the tradition. Of course, all movie analysis is subjective and personal, but this one doubly so. Mainly because I felt connected to nearly everything about it which is probably a scary thought for those who are just aware of the premise. The pain of existing with death as an inevitable end is something we all know and feel but it’s rarely talked about. Which is why this film is more than a breath of fresh air, it is oddly comforting to experience an eerie mood piece that is less about narrative and more about fragility.

It’s what the recently released Beau is Afraid aspired to do in terms of sustaining anxiety. Actually, that film practically makes fun of that feeling - heightened and exaggerated - for the first act in a successful way. Of course, it then veers off into detours and picaresque vignettes while She Dies Tomorrow is streamlined and consistent outside of some surreal touches outside the realm of reality and more about being stuck inside a fragile mindset. It’s almost like being imprisoned inside imposter syndrome or constant panic. 

What if fear of death was a pandemic instead of a physical virus? Well, I think we’re all carrying that fear more than ever at this time. Some prefer to keep those thoughts in the background but films like these force us to put it in the foreground. Not to say that there aren’t laughs or awkwardness along the way, but yes, this film is about anxiety and a profound fear of death that ends up becoming contagious. What’s unusual for me is that I don’t have a fear of death. I almost died from a rare fungal infection and was in the hospital for nearly a month in recovery. It was a freakish occurrence and from the moment I got out, I have mainly shrugged off the idea of dying because I was very close to it already. When it happens, it happens, just like being born.

However, I always look at the shrugging as a bit of a reflection of Kirsten Dunst’s character in Melancholia. When you have depression, death might be some kind of profound release. In other words, it’s not the end of the world, it’s a bit of a relief and maybe there’s even a feeling of comfort knowing that it’s time to move forward to whatever may be next. Even if it’s nothingness. Authors like Camus or Kafka also tackled this similar idea of transforming existential fear into acceptance in ways that continue to speak to future generations. Their work often echoes the kind of crisis turned catharsis that Luis Buñuel or Lynch manages to capture with visual language.

In She Dies Tomorrow, we start with a slow, melancholic first act following former alcoholic Amy (Kate Lyn Sheil) as she inhabits an overwhelming feeling that she will die the next day and begins having trouble comprehending the fact that today will be her last. One immediately thinks these thoughts are fueled by falling off the wagon or possibly having gone through some kind of trauma that is never clearly defined but we definitely are given clues as to what could have occurred. But there’s no rhyme or reason to her conviction.  

When she gives these details to her best friend Jane (Jane Adams) her wild assumptions are deemed crazy, until Jane herself starts to have the same obsessive thoughts. She in turn shares them with her brother at a dinner party and then to the guests there as well. Everyone soon becomes possessed almost with the thought that they will not be alive for much longer, and what does that mean? The mystery deepens with the arrival of expressive light patterns of blue, white and red. All of these folks are hypnotized by it while also processing a profound, heightened loss. It’s as if they’re in mourning for themselves or possibly the world they’ve come to know.

I’ve felt that dread. I’ve damn near lived with it daily. Let’s just say I’ve had several panic attacks in my life often before I even know what they were. Can’t say for sure that’s an accurate count. Each and every time, I am convinced that I will be dead soon. The most recent one I had during quarantine actually had me jotting down all my passwords for friends so they could have access to my files and email in order to continue some of the projects I’ve started. That’s how real and intense panic can ultimately become. It actually fills your mind with the same thoughts. My shrugging off of death suddenly becomes a harsh reality in those moments to where I begin to reject the emotions I’m experiencing. 

While watching She Dies Tomorrow, I immediately sensed the horror that may come with being able to pass on that feeling, that contagion of thought. If there were this disease where you can pass on your panic attack to another human being, that would be awful. It would also be an experience of true empathy or some kind of anxiety-fueled telepathy. “Feel what I feel so we can understand one another” is a more positive spin on the film’s thematic concepts. After I had watched this film for the first time, I knew I had seen something special but I would be remiss in not mentioning that my neighbors’ window somehow emitted blue, red and white lights as I was falling asleep that night. So that was strange. 

Thankfully I didn’t experience panic, but a sense of comfort and relief that a film like this can be made. I felt that same cathartic sigh after another film that Seimetz starred in called Upstream Color. Her performance in that remains one of my absolute favorites to date but sadly, I can no longer praise nor revisit that movie for a couple of reasons that I won’t get into here (but I will eventually since Upstream Color still remains on the list of favorites). But once again, Seimetz showcases how multi-talented she truly is by telling this story in such a confident manner. The cerebral, ambiguous ending is definitely a puzzle, but in a satisfying way that will likely stimulate thought and conversation with those who embark on this journey. 

There’s no denying its dark humor as well as its compassion for everyone on-screen. Kate Lyn Sheil is an actress who deserves far more recognition with this film along with Seimetz’ debut, Sun Don’t Shine, another film I’ve championed and loved since seeing it. Sheil even popped up recently on my favorite episode of Donald Glover’s new show Swarm. (Seimetz directed episodes of Atlanta as well). Jane Adams is another MVP of the indie film world who I’ve also adored going all the way back to Happiness. This is another case of great casting, taking her dark thoughts to a small gathering is one of the highlights here. If I had to make a comparison in terms of tune, I would liken this film to David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows, another masterpiece of dread and tension that still hasn’t left my mind. 

Thematically, I would also cite the equally interesting Pontypool as a possible influence as well, another film about a different kind of virus. But this is truly distinctive all its own. Seimetz has proven time and time again that she is one of the most talented artists working today and that she absolutely needs to continue working since we need voices like hers out there. I just wish everyone would have had the experience of seeing this work of art on a big screen, the sound design alone deserves all the acclaim possible and would benefit from more than just TV speakers. If I could program this at the local art house even just for one night, I would.

Having seen her in so many films as well as her assured direction of the underrated TV adaptation of The Girlfriend Experience, I can easily say this is Seimetz’s strongest work to date. It plays a trick of the mind for the audience, directing our feelings to match those of the exposition. When the character feels fear, we feel it too. It is an infectious transference of sorts that seeps into us like smoke. There are also very distinct visual choices that are unforgettable as well as the use of a recurring classical piece that also externalizes the internal.

A lot has already been written about how prescient this film was due to how it showcases a type of virus that I think we can all identify with thanks to the Covid pandemic we continue to live with. We’re all afraid and the news is spreading that uncertainty about the future like a plague that’s out of our control. How can we not live in fear? All it takes is once glance at news headlines. The fascist regime, the gun violence, continued conflict, it’s a miracle we get through the day sometimes.

As much as this fully realized story is about a contagion of unadulterated apprehension, it’s also about the purity of anxiety in ways that are both funny and terrifying. I wish Beau is Afraid did the same in a more concrete, persistent manner (though maybe that would cause panic attacks in the audience alone). Fear is one of our most powerful emotions and this film captures that sad, scary power that can sustain in our minds from nearly beginning to end. To some degree, anxiety is also funny when it passes.

Anytime I’ve had a panic attack, I usually laugh the next day going, “Haha, I can’t believe I actually thought I was dying!” Depression can often do the same - you feel like you’re dying or want to die, then maybe if you manage to have a good day, the switch can temporarily flip to “on” and you suddenly question why you had those dark thoughts to begin with. Sadly having a combination of both depression and anxiety, it can often mean the sadness and fear aren’t going anywhere. You have to live with and manage them the best you can just so you can leave the house for work and groceries.

She Dies Tomorrow also has pitch-black laughter too so I’m grateful there’s levity among the more intense moments portrayed throughout. I have no reservations in saying this might be my favorite film ever made about anxiety and there are many of them. In some ways, Albert Brooks’ Defending Your Life is all about the fear of being alive and the real test of faith and courage is learning how to overcome it. Seimetz’ near-masterpiece certainly belongs in the conversation of smart films that explore mental health in a very unconventional way that doesn’t necessarily spell out what’s happening but that’s precisely what makes it effective.