NEONLike many cultural works that arrived during the early stages of the COVID-19 pandemic, She Dies Tomorrow tapped into the concerns and anxieties of the era entirely by accident. Indeed, filmed in 2019, long before Zoom sessions and banana bread baking became part of the daily routine, the psychological horror rooted itself in themes of isolation, existential angst, and a never-ending sense disaster was just around the corner. Only instead of a virus, the contagion that spread was the all-consuming fear the next 24 hours would be your last.Of course, the concept of confronting your own impending doom is nothing new. See The Ring, in which viewers of a creepy video tape were given just seven days to live before a murderous well-dweller crawled out of their TV. Or Countdown, where a bunch of students discovered their imminent death date via a supernatural app. And the recently revived Final Destination series has spent 25 years warning all-American teens they’re being stalked by a comically elaborate Grim Reaper.However, as you’d expect from the director behind meditative micro-noir Sun Don’t Shine, She Dies Tomorrow isn’t interested in splashy kills or franchise-spawning mythology. In fact, Amy Seimetz — who helped fund the film with her money she earned acting in the remake of Pet Sematary — isn’t interested in revealing much at all, instead preferring audiences to fill in the many gaps her deliberately opaque second feature opens up.The semi-autobiographical tale sets the discombobulating tone from the offset as tearful protagonist Amy (Kate Lyn Sheil), looking straight into the camera and bathed in neon colors that will be become increasingly more prominent, summarizes a relationship in the vaguest terms (“We only knew each other for a short time. But it was a really nice time, that period of time that we spent together”). Peering behind a door, she then watches boyfriend Craig (Kentucker Audley) smash up some furniture as he insists he won’t live to see the following day.A sudden jolt wakes Amy from her nightmare (or flashback?). Still, her demeanor remains mournful and lethargic — she wanders through her newly purchased home like a lost soul, stroking the walls while bypassing the vanload of boxes still yet to be unpacked. Following several glasses of wine, a blasting of Mozart’s “Requiem,” and a quick Google search for urns, it’s revealed to best friend Jane (Jane Adams) she’s resigned herself to a similar fate.“There is no tomorrow for me,” she sighs like a melodramatic teen, a statement which Jane initially dismisses as the drunken ramblings of a relapsed alcoholic. After all, in the same conversation, Amy had expressed a desire to be turned into a leather jacket (“I want to be useful in death”). But on returning home to study her microscopic samples, the scientist is suddenly overcome with a similar paranoia and a similar malaise.Jane infects the town doctor with the fear. | NEONAnd after rocking up to her brother Jason’s (Chris Messina) rather dry dinner party — the main topic of conversation appears to be the mating habits of dolphins — in her pajamas, a disheveled Jane explains she, too, now believes she’s about to meet her maker. Within minutes, everyone else in attendance has been infected with the same conviction. Is this a lightning quick case of mass delusion? Has the group somehow picked up an identical psychic energy? Or is this something else that can’t be easily explained?Unsurprisingly, given Seimetz’s penchant for the enigmatic, She Dies Tomorrow doesn’t wrap up everything with a neat bow. It does, however, explore how its victims react to their bleak near-future prognosis. Some become wistful about all the things they’d previously taken for granted (“I will miss trees, I love trees”). Others become very matter-of-fact about the whole situation (“I’m going to die tomorrow and so is your dad,” Katie Aselton’s Susan informs her daughter in the middle of the night) or start questioning their existence (“Are we already dead?”). And instead of seeking solace together, Brian (Tunde Adebimpe) and Tilly (Jennifer Kim) decide now is the perfect time to get a divorce.While the film draws plenty of darkly comic mileage out of the situation — see how Josh Lucas’ disparaging doctor rapidly turns into a bumbling wreck— it’s also not afraid to get plain dark. Convinced it’s now simply postponing the inevitable, Jason pulls the plug on his comatose father’s life support machine. And Amy, who despite going missing for half the film, somehow still feels ever-present, makes the grim discovery Craig was so disturbed by his premonition, he ended up committing suicide.Kate Lyn Sheil’s Amy glowing in purple for reasons that remain unknown. | NEONBy the end of the absurdist fable, Jane is talking to her beloved bacteria for reassurance and swimming in a neighbor’s pool filled with her own blood. Meanwhile, Amy is heading to the nearest taxidermy to determine whether her leather jacket fantasy can become a reality. She Dies Tomorrow could never be described as predictable.Of course, some may find its detours into Lynchian surrealism, mumblecore dialogue, and lack of concrete answers a little too pretentious for its own good. “Is this how it ends?” asks a bewildered Jane as an unseen entity appears to signal her demise. Some may find themselves asking the same question a little more incredulously once the beachside finale hints at a scenario which, for viewers of a certain generation, may bring to mind Bobby Ewing’s shower.Yet whether the fever dream visuals were applied to an actual fever dream or not, She Dies Tomorrow remains an immersive mood piece which perfectly encapsulates the period when we had no choice but to confront our own mortality.