Daisy Ridley Elevates the Muted Emotions of Sometimes I Think About Dying

There’s no doubt that Daisy Ridley’s talents have been underserved post-Star Wars, as she’s been relegated to dead-on-arrival blockbusters like Chaos Walking or iffy psychological thrillers like The Marsh King’s Daughter that haven’t taken full advantage of her capacity as an actress. But a movie like Sometimes I Think About Dying, where her perfectly modulated mannerisms and expressions heighten the tumultuous emotions tucked away within an understated and sober surface, especially underscores just how much more quality work Ridley is capable and deserving of. 

The irony lies in how much Sometimes I Think About Dying acts as a cinematic inverse to Ridley’s Star Wars films. There, the sweeping galactic adventure, guided along by bombastic action and snarky quips, was served well by Ridley’s plucky and feisty performance as Rey. Here, she’s planted firmly on Earth as Fran, an introverted cubicle worker existing in a state all too familiar to some of us: A depressive trudge through the dim malaise of living. 

Adapted from their short film of the same name by writers Katy Wright-Mead, Stefanie Abel Horowitz and Kevin Armento (itself an adaptation of Armento’s play Killers), director Rachel Lambert’s second feature (after her 2016 film In the Radiant City) subsists in the monotonous and the desultory, much like Fran herself. With her frumpy neutral-colored sweaters, unembellished shoulder-length haircut and perpetual self-muzzling, Fran seems to work overtime to slip into the background. If she’s not isolating herself at work away from the tiresome but well-meaning niceties of her co-workers, then she’s isolating herself at home, eating cottage cheese and playing Sudoku puzzles while ignoring calls from her mom. Occasionally, she’ll daydream about herself lying dead somewhere peaceful, like among the trees in a picturesque forest or on a deserted beach next to the crashing waves. Whether these fantasies are genuine suicidal ideations or a way of engaging with the kinds of stimulative emotions she shuts herself off from is up for interpretation—though, it’s likely somewhere in between. 

Eventually, an outside force intrudes on her sequestered little universe. After the retirement of her coworker Carol (Marcia DeBonis), the company fills her role with Robert (Dave Merheje), an innocuous everyman who fits right in with all the other innocuous everypeople that occupy the office space. But, whereas Fran’s other coworkers seem content to pass her by without a second look, Robert pings her with some friendly messages on Slack (this is some great workplace messaging cinema) and invites her out to a movie. That slightest of efforts for someone to include her works its charms, and so begins a mild, cautious friendship-potentially-courtship, with Robert doing his best to crack open the shell of detachment that Fran shields herself with. 

In a lot of ways, it would be fair why someone might want to write off Sometimes I Think About Dying as banal Sundance-core (the film garnered buzz after it premiered at the festival in 2023). It veers excessively close to both the mumblecore and self-consciously subdued drama aesthetics that have become a cliché for popular films to come out of the fest: A forcedly dramatic title; eloquent, cursive opening credits; downplayed narrative trajectory; whimsical score; a sustained series of static shots of environments and character interactions. These could all make this film feel overly, rigidly constructed. The pieces are arranged for failure.

And yet, there’s something to Sometimes I Think About Dying that makes these elements (that could plausibly tear a film apart) into a successful, if slight, mood piece that understands the internal struggles of its central character. Fran’s life is dull and unfulfilling, just as the stagnant frames of Dustin Lane’s camera would suggest, but her fantasies give her a sliver of fantastical excitement, as accentuated by that cursive lettering and those thrumming chords of Dabney Morris’ score. Lambert’s film understands the complicated intersection between the purposeful distancing of yourself from a fun time or emotional connections, while simultaneously wishing anyone would notice you. It also resolves to mend that gap, as well as how one may conclude that it’s all too convoluted to even bother with, and that maybe they’d be better off dead on the forest floor somewhere. It’s an admirably candid reflection of the banality of workplace culture, the suffocation that comes with alienation, and what it actually means to share yourself with somebody.

Though, as much as Sometimes I Think About Dying gets right in understanding the inner turmoil that simmers beneath the office pleasantries and awkward dates contained within, the screenplay is never able to afford these characters a particularly satisfying or distinct destination. Despite the ways Lambert and the filmmaking team usurp the typical offbeat indie drama trademarks, they still fall into that familiar trap of being unable to bring it all the way home by the time the credits roll. Fran and Robert’s tentative relationship buzzes with the possibility of new horizons for Fran. There’s indeed an unprecedented connection forged despite the disconnect between Robert’s openness and Fran’s coldness that threatens to turn things rocky, as the former shares his interests and ideas and the latter insists that she’s “just not that interesting.” But, though their resolution by the final frames feels apt, it never feels revelatory.

Maybe that’s due to the film’s icy nature—part of the natural remove felt by Fran and her withdrawn perspective through which these events are experienced. Despite Robert’s practical use as an instrument with which to draw out Fran, as well as acting as a vehicle for a likable performance from Merheje, it can be difficult to feel the fluctuating connection between the two as acutely as intended. The film’s successful alignment of itself with the droning lull of Fran’s life means leaving things on a note that seems to aim for quietly transcendent but ends up just feeling a touch muted. 

Regardless, if any one aspect here sells the film’s particular rhythms and disposition, it’s Ridley. Despite the screenplay’s waffling between profundity and predictability, she sells the frigidity and dejection of Fran with an uncomfortable, terse realism that never feels overplayed. She maintains the delicate line between our rapport with her character and the knotty territory when Fran’s deflection briefly veers too far into cruelty, wherein our identification with her as a character turns to complex self-reflection. In a film that inevitably asks its lead to shoulder some heavy weight for it to work at all, Ridley takes on the task with an assured capability. May other films take this one’s lead in giving her some real, meaty work. 

Director: Rachel Lambert
Writers: Stefanie Abel Horowitz, Kevin Armento, Katy Wright-Mead
Starring: Daisy Ridley, Dave Merheje, Parvesh Cheena, Marcia DeBonis
Release Date: January 26, 2024

Trace Sauveur is a writer based in Austin, TX, where he primarily contributes to The Austin Chronicle. He loves David Lynch, John Carpenter, the Fast & Furious movies, and all the same bands he listened to in high school. He is @tracesauveur on Twitter where you can allow his thoughts to contaminate your feed.