She Dies Tomorrow: The Horror of Anxiety
She Dies Tomorrow follows a woman named Amy (Kate Lyn Sheil) who becomes convinced that she’s going to die very soon. When her friend Jane (Jane Adams) comes over to talk her down, Jane ends up contracting this same feeling of dread before leaving and proceeding to pass it on to a cast of other characters.
The film was released during the early days of the pandemic, so people naturally glommed on to the idea of this being about infectious disease and mortality and whatnot. That’s fair. She Dies Tomorrow isn’t the most straightforward narrative and could even be called experimental, especially when compared to most conventional releases. Others have tried to puzzle out a particular meaning behind what happens on screen, but, according to director Amy Seimetz, there’s nothing definitive for the viewer to suss out. The film was more designed to be an experience, but what kind of experience? Seimetz has confirmed what inspired the plot of the film: anxiety, or, more specifically, her own panic attacks and the strange behavior/thoughts born from those episodes.
As expected, there are a ton of negative reviews of the film that claim it’s just a bunch of random events and that there’s nothing too it, just “pretentiousness”. I’m not going to say you can’t dislike the film — you absolutely can — but if you can’t empathize a little with what’s happening on screen, then I envy you, you sweet child of summer. As a sufferer of anxiety and panic attacks for the past decade plus, I recognized myself so much in several of the characters, as well as in some of the fairly esoteric details of the film.
That Amy believes she’s going to die tomorrow is perhaps a little more specific and immediate, but it’s a sense of doom similar to what I frequently suffer from when my anxiety is ramping up. Every headache is a brain tumor, every palpitation an attack. These would, of course, be legitimate causes for anxiety, but I’ve come to realize that my anxiety precedes these self-diagnoses. It is my state that creates these unhealthy thoughts, rather than the other way around. Amy has a somewhat existential response to the knowledge of her impending death. It’s not a primary thrust of the story in the film, but part of her thinking is that she’d like to be made into a leather coat — to give her life/death more of a purpose. It’s an odd idea to take root, but it’s a fairly good representation of anxious thought. It’s something she needs to take care of because she is dying. The more anxious I am, the harder it is for me to drop what I’m doing, even if it’s something of little importance and can easily be put off until another day.
Amy’s journey throughout the film is an interesting one and, perhaps, the more poignant one. However, it is Jane’s experience that resonates most with me. Once Jane lets the idea that she’s going to die tomorrow take root, she repeatedly reaches out to Amy, but get’s no response. She then decides to carry on with her existing plans to go to her sister-in-law’s birthday party. Jane shows up in her pajamas and immediately derails the conversation talking about how she’s going to die. It’s not that I’ve literally done this before, but, if you’re suffering from anxiety, then the divide between yourself and the “normal” people at a gathering can be pretty stark. When the lights go out for the obligatory birthday candles, Jane is startled before musing “was that it? are we dead?”. There is one party guest, however, that seems to be more on Jane’s wavelength. Brian (Tunde Adebimpe), remains quiet and stoic throughout the party, but soon after leaving admits to his date that Jane “might be right”. The dread soon passes to them, as well as Jane’s brother and his wife.
While they all react to the news in different ways, Jane floats on to the doctor’s office, which makes sense for someone who believes what she does. Despite her convictions, the doctor (Josh Lucas) tells her that there’s nothing wrong with her (something I have literally experienced). But he allows her too much room to talk and soon the dread is in him too. The doc suffers a brief meltdown and he abruptly leaves Jane alone because he “needs to be with his wife”.
Jane ends up back home and is injured in some way that’s left open-ended. Did her brother, pissed about being infected, show up there and attack her? I’m not sure. In any case, she’s shown the next morning (the day she will die) entering the home of two strangers, still in her pajamas, but with blood running down her stomach and leg. Assuming that Jane is not actually going to die and that this is more of a shared psychosis, the blood is interesting to me because it’s a sign of actual tangible harm that has been done to Jane or that she has done to herself. How much real physical harm have I done to myself because of my anxiety? Even though I’m in no actual danger and my brain is only tricking my body into thinking it is, how I’ve sometimes reacted has been legitmately harmful to my health.
Despite Jane’s bloody appearance, this scene is a positive one. Ya see, the women in the house (Michelle Rodriguez & Olivia Dudley), are also suffering from this same affliction (delusion?). They, too, are convinced that they are going to die very soon. The three women go out back to a pool. Jane wades in, bloody pajamas and all, before climbing on an inflatable flamingo. The two young women lay out on towels and discuss what they’re going to miss about being alive. It’s not a cheery subject, but the tone is light and they all kinda appear to be happy. I loves this scene because it reminds me of the experience of discussing my issues frankly with other anxiety sufferers. I think it’s also helpful that these new women are strangers to Jane and that they were, seemingly, infected by some other means than her. Maybe their shared affliction isn’t universal, but it’s at least pretty widespread. Jane isn’t alone in her dying. This very specific dread that she’s been dealing with is being felt by strangers in exactly the same way.
Though it could sometimes be considered oversharing, I truly enjoy talking about my mental health challenges because it helps me in much the same way. I went to visit a friend in Denver earlier this year and met his partner. Within hours of meeting, we were discussing some fairly intimate details of our struggles and treatment, even though we were strangers to one another. This ability to be open and to know, definitely as opposed to abstractly, that I am not alone filled me with a kind of lightness that remained with me for some time. Similarly, I was struck earlier this year when I listened to a podcast appearance of one of my favorite wrestlers where he discussed his own issues with anxiety. His description of what he went through was eerily close to some of my own experiences. Again, it made such a positive impact to know that I am not alone. With the great strides that mental health awareness has taken in recent years, most people know that anxiety and depression are widespread. So, I know this, academically, but, to the anxious mind, there is always room for cruel narcissim: yes, I know most people deal with mental health issues, but my brain is uniquely broken. These experiences have proved effective in dissuading me of this destructive line of thinking. She Dies Tomorrow has had a similar effect on me. While seeing people behave the way they do in the film can be anxiety-inducing, the specificity of some of it is proof that others are dealing with the same things I am.
The film’s conclusion brings us back to Amy. After a discussion with a leathermaker about the prospect of making a coat from a “mammal” leaves her in tears, she wakes up on some rocks in the desert. Distraught, she begins telling herself repeatedley “you’re okay, you’re okay”, but that eventually turns into “you’re not okay”. According to Seimetz, this came directly from her own life. This message is fairly simple, but it’s not always an easy one to practice. It’s okay to not be okay. There have been days, early in my mental health journey or during periods of decline, that I’ve become frustrated trying to fight my way back to a better state-of-mind. The idea that this might be, to some degree, an every day struggle was very frightening to me, but acceptance does go a long way in removing the not-helpful pressure of having to be “okay”. It’s okay to not be okay. If there’s something I’ve learned over the years — and has been reinforced by She Dies Tomorrow — it’s that not many of us are.
Is it scary? I’d say it’s more intriguing, with a hint of disturbing. It can be a little anxiety-inducing, but, as I’ve covered, I think it ultimately nullified those feelings for me.
Streaming: She Dies Tomorrow is currently available on Hulu.
