Sometimes I Think About Dying

I’ve been thinking about writing an entry on mental health portrayed in movies, especially as I find cultivating my mental health as I pursue a creative life important, and it’s one of the reasons for writing this blog. The portrayal of mental health on screen is something that’s really changed over time, in accordance with social progress and values. How a character struggling with mental health is portrayed in a movie, how they’re treated by the other characters, and what happens to them over the course of the film can tell you where society’s at on the topic at the time of release.

Off the top of my head, I’ll name some movies that deal with mental health, either through the characters’ experience or more indirectly:

Love this movie. Now that I’m typing this caption, I want to watch this movie again.

1. Rachel, Rachel (1968)

2. A Woman Under the Influence (1974)

3. Five Easy Pieces (1970)

4. Ordinary People (1980)

5. The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012)

6. Girl, Interrupted (1999)

What I like about the above list is that it contains movies from different decades, and features both males and females dealing with issues of mental health. Therefore, these movies provide a lens on the intersection of mental health and gender norms. See folks, movies aren’t just for seeing monsters destroy buildings while avidly consuming popcorn! They can provide incisive looks at our society (even the monster movies), and that’s part of what this blog is about.

sometimes, i think about dying (short film; 2019)

I had first seen sometimes, i think about dying as a short film a few years ago. I had been following Sundance’s output for a while, and had grown to love short films as a medium after seeing Sundance selections by David Lowery, Andrea Arnold, Destin Daniel Cretton, and Cary Joji Fukunaga, all who started off as short filmmakers before flexing their skills on features. And considering that I had been dealing with depression long before 2019, the title and the logline of Stefanie Abel Horowitz’s movie hooked me when I heard it had been accepted to Sundance’s short film program that year. To the right, you’ll find what Horowitz had to say about the short in her Sundance introductory video:

What I find interesting about Horowitz’s introductory video is what she says starting at the :15 mark: “This is a short about Fran, a woman, who is afraid to live.” Notice that she doesn’t say depressed. I had seen the short multiple times and was so confused as to how I got the idea this film was about depression. I distinctly remembered that Katy Wright-Mead’s performance and the film’s aesthetic definitely evoked an emotional resonance that reminded me of my experience as a depressive. I’ve seen this introductory video before, and I feel like I’d remember Horowitz’s words. But I find what she says in the above video to be true. Even with the elements of the film that seem to reinforce the idea of perpetual melancholy, this is a film about living.

The full short is below:

Again, to concur with Horowitz’s point, this film is about getting out of your comfort zone, and small moments that feel significant, the details of existence that take on resonance when you have a deep connection with something or someone, embracing your quirks, and trusting others not to judge when you open up to them. All of this is connected with an elegantly simple narrative that’s filled with a lot of emotional authenticity, and given an energy through Horowitz’s thoughtful direction, the nuanced cinematography, and the quality editing and sound. Also, I found Katy Wright-Mead and Jim Sarbh’s performances as the two leads to be perfect.

And again, if the film is really about living, why did I so strongly remember the film being about depression? Maybe because I do feel like depression is a part of the main character’s emotional experience. It’s her way of moving through the world. And this isn’t just communicated through the actor’s performance as Fran, but also in the way the character is framed, the lighting, and the screenplay. The stuff Fran thinks about and how she thinks about it and how she’s portrayed thinking about it visually is something that I definitely think corresponds to the feeling of depression. It’s hard for me to think Fran is simply meek or quiet with all of the components of the film I mentioned above that seem to add up to a picture of loneliness and isolation, and the kind of sadness that emerges in the gaps between you and other people when you feel distant from them, even if you’re not entirely aware of it.

Also, the short’s descriptions from Omeleto and Short of the Week specify this film is about depression — at least partly. Anyway, while I think Katy Wright-Mead is correct in her assessment, I find this aspect of the material hard to overlook. But I feel like the movie can explore both wanting to live and thinking about dying through a singular experience. And I mean, it’s not like the writer-director is tiptoeing around the fact that this movie touches upon the existence of being melancholy, depressed, and even suicidal. I think it’s important to acknowledge that not all mental health conditions look the same, or are experienced by everyone the same way. Someone can experience the kind of suicidal ideation that Fran does, without being at the crisis point of wanting to kill yourself imminently.

Sometimes I Think About Dying (feature film; 2023)

Daisy Ridley as Fran. Credit to Oscilloscope.

When I heard that a movie was going to be released around the short film of the same name, I felt excited. That might not be the reaction you’d expect, especially concerning an arthouse movie like this, but the chance to see depression represented as deeply and thoughtfully in a feature film form meant something to me. I felt that Stefanie Abel Horowitz short had turned my experience with depression inside-out, making it more real and just a little more visible to the world, in a way that validated my feelings and gave them dimension. If I had seen this movie when I was a teenager, a time when I was struggling to articulate these deep, dark feelings that I was having, I would have felt like someone had finally understood what I was going through, that someone believed me. That I could work less hard to search for an explanation or a rationality for my emotions when I was already going through a lot and feeling so crummy, because I could just refer to the film. And having that validation of your experiences exist, especially where there was none prior, is an immensely powerful thing. You can feel less invisible, less alone, less confused, less heartbroken, with the release of a movie. I know this isn’t news to most people, but it bears repeating.

I found the movie, which I saw at the Lumiere Music Hall in Los Angeles, to be good. More than good, actually. If I’m going to be honest, I felt like the premise of the short was stretched a little thin in the feature, which happens in the jump between short-form to long-form films sometimes. But this is in no way a comment on the evident talent and thoughtfulness from director Rachel Lambert, lead Daisy Ridley, cinematographer Dustin Lane, and writer Stefanie Abel Horowitz (along with writers Katy Wright-Mead and Kevin Armento) that they all put into this movie. Perhaps more remarkable, thanks to Lambert’s assured direction and likely thanks to Horowitz’s inclusion on the project with her collaborators from the short, the feature retains all of the ideas and nuances that made the short special. The hushed world of the office and Fran’s isolation from her co-workers, the intimacies of the surrounding town in which Fran works (and its lovely seaside setting), and the protagonist’s singular brand of humor all make the jump from the short to the feature.

Also, I thought the way Lambert shot the inter-office conversations were pretty ingenious, especially as so much of the success of this film rests on the conversations between people. Sometimes, some very funny conversations will take place offscreen, while the camera is framed on Fran’s inscrutable face. Daisy Ridley’s non-verbal reactions are often so subtle yet so filled with clear emotion that you often find yourself laughing. Fran is a woman who keeps to herself, but she’s very aware of everything going on around her, and her observational standpoint allows her to be a part of her surroundings, even if she doesn’t directly or easily engage with others. Sometimes I Think About Dying can make you think twice about the quiet person in your workplace, and consider their presence and internal life in a way you maybe hadn’t before. There’s an authenticity in this movie that feels completely genuine, even refreshing.

Fran (Daisy Ridley) and co-worker Robert (David Merheje) making conversation, and crackin’ some lobstah. Credit to Oscilloscope.

I feel like how we talk about films is also worth looking at on this blog, and that considering how movies interact with the public can be a valuable part of media literacy. With that in mind, the coverage around this film has been bothering me, because even though Fran still seems as very much depressed as she was in the short, all mention of her being depressed and having that touchstone of her experience as an integrative part of this film is gone. From the feature film’s IMDB tags, you might think this was a romantic comedy featuring a retired woman looking for love as part of a second act (at least “loneliness” is a part of the plot keyword’s page for the short film).

Why the heck is “retirement” used to describe this film, but “depression” isn’t? I’d take “isolation”, “sadness”, “loneliness”, especially because Fran’s mental state and experiencing it with her is such a core component of the film, and she’s certainly not a ray of sunshine. And while being downbeat is clearly meant to be a part of the charm of Daria, Lydia Deetz, and Wednesday Addams, what’s going on with Fran seems to be something a little more….internal. Not even suicidal ideation is mentioned as a keyword to describe the film, which I find odd, if not outright weird. Don’t omit “suicidal ideation” but allow “retirement”, especially when this movie is freakin’ called Sometimes I Think About Dying.

And while maybe this just has to do with whoever’s submitting keywords for the film, it seems like people on the front lines of the film haven’t been acknowledging the possibility that this movie could be about someone who’s depressed, like, legitimately. Like, is that okay? Would saying openly that this movie could be about depression lump your film into the psychotic woman subgenre, something you’re specifically trying to avoid?

Who am I addressing, exactly? It’s not like anyone from the film has shut down conversations about Fran’s mental health in the movie. And maybe speculating on it is besides the point. Maybe it shows how shallow we still are — or I still am — that I’m choosing to look at this person through the lens of her social withdrawal instead of seeing her full character, that I’m projecting my experiences onto her instead of considering the film for what it is.

The trailer for Sometimes I Think About Dying is below, with a spoiler alert to follow:

Spoiler alert: One thing I can’t get my head around is the scene where Fran sleeps for the whole weekend after her fight with Robert. This is after a long cry in a way that I found terribly familiar, as someone who’s wrestled with depression before. I found the urge to sleep for days to reset when in the midst of these kinds of emotions terribly familiar, too. And now that I’ve gotten treatment, this kind of thing doesn’t happen to me anymore. But what I’m struggling with is how you can have these scenes, with the (quiet somber muted mellow can’t think of the word) cinematography, and the framing that evokes a sense of isolation, and Fran’s aloofness, and Daisy’s performance, and the suicidal ideation, and not remotely consider or acknowledge that this could be about someone who’s depressed? I’m veering away from my point a little bit, but it feels like representations of mental health and what depression and anxiety look like on screen is still so scant, that I feel like when a film does touch upon it, however inadvertently, it’s important to have that recognized, even if it’s not in the cultural conversation.