Sometimes I Think About Dying

"Fran" (Daisy Ridley) likes to keep herself to herself. She's very much on the periphery of things at work and goes home to her favourite cottage cheese and bed by 10.15 most evenings. The arrival of "Robert" (Dave Merheje) shakes things up a little when his request for some office provisions leads to a trip to the cinema to see "Departure" (2015). Though it could never be described as racy, what now ensues watches the two get a little close and a better acquainted. She reveals to him that as she looks from her cubicle window at the huge cranes loading and unloading the ships, she imagines herself swinging from one of them - and not in the way a child might! A chance meeting with the recently retired "Carol" (Marcia DeBonis) in a diner might help "Fran" recalibrate her priorities though! This is a far cry from anything Ridley has done thus far, and shows her as an actor of considerable versatility. The writing works quite well here, too. Sparingly used between the main characters but more plentifully used to illustrate the banal nature of her life at work - especially with boss "Isobel" (Megan Stalter) who has verbal diarrhoea in just about every way you can imagine. The story takes quite an interesting look at those (slightly) later in life who are in a rut and content to remain so but I'm afraid this whole scenario doesn't really make for gripping cinema. Indeed, at times the director seems content to leave us with only the superficial glimpse of the characters and together with the bleak and dull nature of the lighting, creates an ennui all of it's own. It's not so much that nothing really happens, it's that I wasn't really bothered either way if it did or didn't. The whole thing is all just a bit too lacklustre. It's fine, this film, but not much more.

As much as I loved the style in which director Rachel Lambert explored a few weeks in the largely uneventful (but..eventful too.. sort of?) life of a socially awkward isolation-enjoyer, what spoke to me is her sense of visual aesthetics. The port city of Astoria, Orgeon is a distinct character within the film, and its laidback stillness is something I grew to like. Several frames delineate the notion, and I think they sublimely complimented the life that Fran (Daisy Ridley) lives. She enjoys her work, but loves running away from the small talk that the office brings. She awkwardly exits office gatherings, including one where a longtime colleague of hers is retiring. There's greater meaning to most of these little moments, but not everything has a meaty payoff.

The film's delicate pacing is, at times, broken through banter between Fran and her new colleague Robert (Dave Merheje), as well as through sudden transitions where she ponders over death (..her death, i.e.). This is the most I've enjoyed a Daisy Ridley performance in years, and it speaks volumes when an actor can convey the right emotions through subtle changes in body language. Fran isn't much of a talker per se, but when she does, she's also less curious. She slowly grows to love movies and being around people, thanks to Robert's interventions. I like how the film addresses the issue of Robert being unable to fully comprehend Fran as a person. There are layers to her than even we (..as audiences..) cannot fully peel off. We know next-to-nothing about her family, and the circumstances in which she grew up. We know she ain't suicidal, but she doesn't seem to relish life all that much either.

Actually, a lot of unsaid elements contribute to further, deeper readings of Fran's demeanor. Her depressing thoughts on death aside, there's one moving scene towards the end where she randomly encounters the retired ex-colleague and learns how life is so unpredictable and difficult, underneath all the "plaster" that we add to it. I got to know that the film is based on a 2013 play called Killers, and it, sure as hell, makes for splendid material on the stage. I'm glad though, that Lambert decided to make it into a film, as mundanity of life is something that's less discussed in the world of cinema. Dabney Morris' score adds to the understated nature of its proceedings, making the experience even better.

In bleak but interesting drama "Sometimes I Think About Dying" drab Daisy Ridley lives in a drab Oregon coastal town, working a drab office job. Her acute social awkwardness effectively stifles her existence, til a bond (of sorts) with outgoing new colleague Dave Merheje seems to have the potential to save her... but does it? Its dreary reality certainly won't be for all (adrenaline junkies beware) but Ridley is superb with some solid, understated support (inc Merheje, Marcia DeBonis, Megan Stalter & Parvesh Cheenah), the three person writing team nailed it, and director Rachel Lambert delivers with perfect tone. For those into bleak, drab and dreary art... this is a little beauty.

Fran (Daisy Ridley) is a quiet loner who often thinks about suicide. She is alone even in a crowd at her work. Co-worker Robert gets past her barriers and they start dating.

Initially, I'm interested for about ten minutes and then I'm wondering if anything is going to happen. Something happens and I'm interested for another ten minutes before wondering if anything else is going to happen. That's how it goes. I alternate between mildly interested and waiting for the next thing. For the second half, I am interested in one thing. I'm waiting for the ending. I'm just not sure if it's going full dark or going for something more hopeful. This is not for everyone and not all of this is for me.

The energy of this film is in its stillness.

Sparse dialogue. No driving, linear narrative. The camera is perpetually stationary. Almost nothing is loud or abrupt. But it hums restlessly with quiet anxiety.

Your attention is never commanded, but your interest is rewarded. Fran is the subject of your observation, and she is in everything subtle and restrained. Every modulation of body language, shade of facial expression, and placement of gaze dispenses information. You are with her constantly and quickly become intimate. You consider her, wonder at her. You empathize with her; you're confused by her. You don't have to understand her. You simply see what she sees and feel what she feels. You are there when she is tense and afraid, when she allows herself to smile, when she indulges her desire and when she represses it. She's a particularly vulnerable human, and you are there in the midst of all of it. This film and its protagonist are beautifully small, shy, and fragile, and watching it is compelling if you can feel the weight of responsibility that comes with so intimately witnessing a person in their intense vulnerability.

Sometimes I Think About Dying feels precious in its plain honesty and total vulnerability.

It's not a story, just a person.