I’m going to die. You’re going to die. But Amy is dying tomorrow.
In the hauntingly titled She Dies Tomorrow, written and directed by Amy Seimetz (whose shared name with the film’s protagonist is no accident), existential dread drips from every frame. Seimetz couldn't have expected her film, imagined in a pre-pandemic world, to pair quite so well with this year’s themes of mass hysteria and communal hopelessness. But viewers will be hard pressed to escape an outing with the horror-comedy without a dozen or so moments of self-reflection as terrifyingly invasive as the virus keeping us in our homes.
I’m going to die. You’re going to die. But Amy is dying tomorrow.
We enter Seimetz’s world of impending doom through recovering addict Amy, played by Kate Lyn Sheil. For reasons Amy can’t explain — at least not right away — she is certain her expiration date has arrived. In 24 hours, she will be dead despite showing no signs of illness, injury, or suicidal ideation. In preparation for the monumental day, she dons a sequin gown, peruses urns online, drinks, and does a bit of gardening. When friend Jane, played by Jane Adams, arrives to check in on the struggling nihilist, Amy informs her of her approaching end. Jane does everything she can to comfort her friend, rationalizing her fear as a side effect of Amy’s evident relapse and not a genuine danger. Still, Amy is insistent. At an impasse, Jane leaves. But by the time she arrives home, Amy’s anxiety has already wormed its way into Jane's system. Now, Jane too is convinced she will die tomorrow.
What would you do if today was your last?
From there, She Dies Tomorrow rapidly descends into a thematic cave system of panic and confusion grounded only by the promise of a finite timeline. Supporting characters, played by Chris Messina, Katie Aselton, Tunde Adebimpe, Jennifer Kim, and more, are soon infected with thoughts of their own demises. Each victim of this paralyzing revelation copes with its implications differently, contemplating the lives they've lived and undertaking whatever tasks they deem essential before their time on this plane of existence comes to an end. Relationships end, tears are shed, a dune buggy is ridden.
The resulting chaos, surprisingly comedic yet subdued, makes up the remainder of the film. Through a kaleidoscope of trippy colors and moody soundscapes, viewers are forced to confront a common hypothetical question in its realized form: What would you do if today was your last? Depending on your comfort level with death, that question can be an eerily relaxing exercise in letting go — "I think I'd like to be made into a leather jacket," Amy says to Jane — or a heart-stopping confrontation with the unavoidable terror society has trained us to quietly ignore.
Arguably, now isn't the best time for pondering such subjects. Coming to grips with your mortality isn't made easier by constant reminders of the emotional toll death takes on our species. Plus, closing that mental floodgate is likely to be made substantially harder by the constraints of isolation. What will you think of after you've pondered the biggest thing there is?
Still, there's something about picking that metaphoric scab that's especially tempting in a crisis. It's a chance at catharsis, at growth, at taking the sting out of an inevitable wound. And as far as shepherds into that dark night go, Seimetz can't be beat. Her execution of an especially slippery and ambitious idea isn't flawless, but its ballsiness and steady tone make for a universe in which exploring your mental limits feels safe. You won't find any dirty tricks here — no attempts at shock-fueled shortcuts or inauthentic conclusions are made. It's just a thought, thoroughly explored and stretched to its cinematic limits. (That the ending provides no real solace should be expected; Seimetz can't answer a question no one in history ever has.)
A prescient and exquisitely executed doomsday, She Dies Tomorrow won't be for all viewers. But if something about its title brought a smile to your face, then perhaps it is meant for you. In a time where it seems we must question not only who we are and who we want to be, but also whether any of that matters at all, there really is nothing wrong with venturing outside the collective comfort zone. After all, what do any of us have to lose? We'll always have tomorrow.
She Dies Tomorrow is now playing at drive-in theaters. It is also available through iTunes, Fandango Now, and Google Play.
