Sometimes I Think About Dying (2024)

Written by badelf on June 1, 2025

Rachel Lambert's "Sometimes I Think About Dying" exists in that peculiar liminal space between captivating and tedious—a film rescued from its own narrative thinness by extraordinary performances and meticulous visual storytelling.

Daisy Ridley's Fran is a masterclass in minimalist acting. As an office worker whose interior life dwarfs her external expression, Ridley communicates volumes through microexpressions and body language. A slight shift in posture, a barely perceptible eye movement—these become seismic emotional events in Ridley's hands. Dave Merheje's Robert provides the perfect counterbalance, his extroverted warmth creating a gravitational pull that both attracts and terrifies Fran.

Lambert's direction shines in her visual translation of introversion. The camera often observes Fran from above or at a distance, perfectly capturing both her self-consciousness and her remove from the world around her. These compositions aren't just aesthetically interesting; they're emotional architecture, building a visual language for the invisible experience of social anxiety.

The Oregon coast setting, with its perpetual gray skies and misty landscapes, becomes less a backdrop than an extension of Fran's inner weather. The region's gloomy beauty provides perfect environmental shorthand for a character whose mind constantly drifts toward darkness despite moments of startling beauty.

What prevents the film from reaching greatness is its meandering screenplay. Scenes linger past their natural conclusion, and the narrative occasionally loses momentum, particularly in the second half. Yet there's something almost appropriate about this pacing—introversion itself isn't efficient or economical, but measured and cautious.

"Sometimes I Think About Dying" isn't making grand philosophical statements about the human condition or the nature of introvert-extrovert attraction. It's simply observing one specific connection with uncommon visual intelligence and performance depth. The film's power lies not in what it says but in how attentively it watches.