A woman wakes up and gasps for air in a nondescript living room. She cannot explain why, but she is certain of one thing: she has only one day left to live. So she tells her friend Jane, and something terrible happens: Jane also will be sure that the next day will be her last. It turns out that this strange belief is contagious. And it will infect much more before tomorrow actually comes.
Written and directed by Amy Seimetz, She dies tomorrow is a new film with a title and a premise that suggests something driving – maybe a thriller or a nightmarish horror film. Instead, it̵
She dies tomorrow is a mirror house, a film that is much more interested in the reflections it offers you than in conjuring up something too specific that you can ruminate. All of his characters process the revelation in the heart of the film in a strikingly banal way. Amy (Kate Lyn Sheil), the protagonist, frolics aimlessly, seemingly overwhelmed by the way she could spend her last day, and spends the hours doing morbid everyday things like looking up urns or whether her skin could be made into a leather jacket.
Others, such as Brian (Tunde Adebimpe) and Tilly (Jennifer Kim), immediately lose interest in the charade that they both maintain for the sake of each other, and agree that they would never train as a couple and would go out to each other once it did didn’t seem insensitive. She dies tomorrow dances from existential fear over compressed separation story to withered comedy from scene to scene. The film takes the gravity of its premise and contrasts it with worldliness, and all the characters feel so silly and absorbed in themselves. Then the idea infects me and I feel silly and lost in myself.
Incredibly large, destabilizing events can distort everything around it and force everything into a new context. She dies tomorrow The arrival in the midst of a global pandemic, which, among other things, creates a general feeling of worldly helplessness, gives the film a recursive quality: we are all surrounded by our own doom, and the temptation to do so is narcissism, all of us spending time amazed by how our World is being rearranged.
She dies tomorrow isn’t interested in a solution, but if you lean forward you can find a survey. While each character is infected with the idea that its end is coming, they stare at the camera, while barely perceptible voices fade in and red and blue lights change the contours of their faces. We don’t know what is going through their minds, but we can imagine: how do you live right now and how is it different from the way you have always lived? Is there a good reason for that? Who put the idea in your head that it has to be that way?
“Do you want to make out?” A man (Adam Wingard) asks Amy when they get together and tries to figure out what to do next on her last day. She agrees, but they finally get it before anything really happens. It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right. And there will never be an answer to the question of how right Amy or her friends are regarding their fate.