Review by Jessica Carr
In the summer of 2016, I was convinced that God was giving me signals that I was going to die soon. I had just graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in Journalism and I had absolutely no job prospects. I had just received my 3rd job rejection email after spending months and months applying for jobs in my field. Throughout Undergrad, I was top of my class and there I was, at the end of 4 years, living with my parents with no job and lots and lots of anxiety. Each day, I would wake up and fixate on how I believed God was telling me that death was on the horizon. That summer, my neighbor died when he was mowing his lawn and a truck went off the road and hit him on his riding lawnmower. He died instantly. I saw shootings on the news every day and I wondered if that was how I was going to go. And during that summer, I remember crying to my friends because I couldn’t escape this inexplicable fear that was taking over my life.
Fast forward 4 years later and well, I’m happy to report that I’m still alive. I switched the kind of birth control I was taking and got one with a lower dose of estrogen, which was apparently, ramping up my anxiety. I hadn’t really thought much about that 2016 summer until I read the film synopsis for She Dies Tomorrow, a film where the main character believes she will die the next day and spreads that idea around like a contagion. Instantly, I was transported to the time where my anxiety was the worst it has ever been. The idea of even watching the film made me so nervous. But, I’m really glad I did. Director and writer Amy Seimetz has created a movie that not only perfectly encapsulates the anxiety we are all feeling during the pandemic, but also shows an honest portrayal of her own personal struggle with it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a film handle anxiety in a more nuanced way.
The film begins with Amy as she has just bought a new house. It is apparent from the beginning of the film that Amy is having a hard time. The first 10 minutes of the film are spent at her new house as she rubs the walls, goes between crying and not crying, shops online for urns, and listens to Mozart’s Requiem (a piece he never finished because he died suddenly) over and over again. Amy, a recovering alcoholic, also starts drinking again. The viewer is unsure why Amy is acting this way until she reveals to her friend Jane that she believes she is going to die the next day. Soon, that same fear roots itself within Jane and it continues to spread to other characters throughout the film.
Read about Mike Thorn and Sophy Romvari’s quarantine short Some Kind of Connection
Amy and Jane are an interesting dichotomy of characters because they both handle their fear of death differently. Amy decides to self-implode. She drinks, self-isolates, and goes for a joyride in a dune buggy. In contrast, Jane surrounds herself with her friends and family, ultimately spreading the idea of dying to them because she won’t stop bringing it up in conversation. Jane also tries to solve the problem by going to a doctor for help. Both of these characters are good examples of how people cope with anxiety in different ways. Anxiety can be such an isolating feeling – how can you explain to someone that your brain is being attacked by fear each and every day? I remember being around my friends during my peaks of anxiety and feeling like I couldn’t explain to them why I was feeling that way. I wasn’t engaged in conversations and I kept bringing up how scared I felt. Eventually, I felt guilty for putting all of my stress on them, so I began to isolate myself from the ones that cared about me the most.
Although Amy isolates herself too, the film is framed a voiceover of her talking about how her time with someone was nice for the short amount of time they had it. It is later revealed that she was talking to Craig, a guy she briefly dated before he committed suicide. After his death, she is left alone with her crippling anxiety. The way anxiety affects our connections to other people (and is affected by them) is a huge theme in She Dies Tomorrow.
She Dies Tomorrow is a quiet film. When making movies about anxiety, some filmmakers choose to express the chaotic energy that comes with the feeling of fear with the score. They ramp it up for the entirety of the film. Instead of going this route, Seimetz enlists the help of Mondo Boys to create a score that swells in just the right places. In classic mumblecore fashion, the characters often deliver their dialogue in hushed tones. I had the volume turned way up and I still had to ask my partner if he could tell what the character just said in some parts of the film. Aside from the unexpected title card flash and the repeated Requiem needle drop, the quietness of the film makes its exploration of anxiety a somewhat meditative one.
In this film, we are given a visual cue to let us know that the character has been infected with the notion they are going to die the next day. The camera faces them as they are drawn to a light that flashes various colors from red to blue to purple. Their faces are filled with worry, disdain, and sometimes fascination. I thought it was very unique to use this to signal to the audience that the idea has been firmly planted in the character’s head. Overall, the visuals in She Dies Tomorrow are quite stunning. The color palette is sterile except for when these multicolored lights flash. When Amy is first drawn to the light, she starts the shot blurry and far away from the camera. The sequence shows her figure getting closer and closer to the camera lens until her face, covered in red light, is in full focus of the frame. We see that she is in pain. It is a terrifying and intimate scene shared between the filmmaker and the audience. Several days after the film, I noticed that this image is what I was drawn to the most. It offers a sense of vulnerability that I haven’t seen in a horror film in a long time.
Is this film kind of a bummer? Sure...but it is also really quite funny. The way Seimetz was able to weave some dark humor into the script is remarkable. It makes a film about anxiety way less self-indulgent and much more accessible for a broader audience. The funniest bit to me was when Jane (in her pajamas) goes to her sister-in-law’s house for her birthday party. They cut the lights out to bring in the birthday cake and Jane gets laughs, exclaiming, “Oh man, I thought that was it. That was lights out.” It really pokes fun at the absurdity that comes along with anxiety. Why worry about when you are going to die? You have no control over it. But still, how can you not worry about it? The humor helps the film be more relatable and ultimately, that really works in the movie’s favor.
All in all, I think She Dies Tomorrow is not only a brilliant horror film, but it is also one of the best films about anxiety that I’ve seen. Throughout the pandemic, I have felt my own anxiety ebb and flow. I also know that I’m not alone in this feeling. Each day comes with its own set of mental obstacles to navigate. But, somehow, I keep trying to find some sort of solace and light. Is She Dies Tomorrow an optimistic movie? I’m not really sure. My answer to that question would have to come from Amy in that final scene. She looks out at the desert and goes between saying, “It’s okay” and “I’m not okay.” Maybe there is some sort of peace in that acceptance.