She Dies Tomorrow ★★★½

seimetz's work is fleet and multivalent in its semiotics, not performing arthouse charlatanisms of vaporous suggestion but rather operating in a dialectic between the concrete and abstract realities of affect. this dialectic unfolds in outward-spiralling epicyclic transformations, prominently realized in the rapturous hallucinations that signal the onset of certain mortality for the quotidian maladapted. trauma exists as a half-spoken omnipresence, but moreso in the viscera and microbiome of the film's most aesthetically outre gestures than in its elliptical, temporally disjoint structure or dialogic characterization, wherein a common and creatively impoverished "american indie" might situate it as if by rote. seimetz is content to evoke (and adept enough to do so with acuity) the devastation of exhausted post-traumatic existence, lacking kitsch embellishments of sentimentalism or studied pseudo-progressive pseudo-psychology. the cinema here is both free and learned (with shades of late godard in the gait of its cuts) but hardly academic or overworked. count me a fan

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