Reviews: Tomorrow I Die
The Silence of The Girls
A review of Tomorrow I Die by Pavla Banjac
A car stops in the middle of the woods. Beastly howls echo through the star-lit branches. Wait, was that a baby crying? No. It’s just an animal. The night has fallen. The cottage door squeaks. Rain. Thunder. A knock on Irma’s doors. Irma is about to die.
Nine-months pregnant, Irma (Niké Kurta) decides to retreat in the cliché horror setting that happens to be her dead mother’s charming cottage. If it weren’t for the introductory shots of her painful cries and the subsequent knock on the door, this could have easily been mistaken for a Rohmer film. It’s the end of summer, and after numerous failed calls and voicemails, her half-brother and her best friend finally show up. A couple of drinks, snacks and a few casual insults later, Irma lets them know she will die.
The tension director Nikol Cibulyahas been so carefully crafting until that moment completely collapses once Marci (Dániel Baki) starts choking on peanuts. This little comic relief immediately leaves us wondering whether the film is taking itself seriously or whether it’s mocking the horror genre. The answer is revealed as soon as the group goes to the lake. Shots of Irma floating on her back, water covering her head almost completely, remind us of her apparent upcoming death. A thunderstruck, a quick edit from daylight to nighttime, and a body floating next to hers, and Irma is reminded of it, too.
Just as her husband arrives uninvited, and personal issues in the group start diluting the already watery dialogues, Cibulyaspares us the excessive melodrama by insisting on what has previously only been hinted at—Irma’s mother’s ghost is haunting her. Stuck in a soon-to-be-mother role herself, she keeps seeing the ghost of a little blonde girl in episodes, running around the garden, the woods, the house. Quick editing of these sequences from the past mixed with pitch black cinematography and mocking comments of her friends keep us guessing: ‘Have you seen a ghost?’
So intelligently written that it’s difficult to discern if Irma ever invited any of the guests at all, Cibulya’s script leaves no room for thinking as the ghostly episodes intensify: A blond girl. Cut. A pale woman lying in bed. Cut. Cutting up flowers. Cut. Making tea. Cut. Giving it to her mother. Cut. They both sleep. Cut.
Constantly questioning boundaries between reality and fiction, this naïve-looking slow-burn turns out to be a huge fire. Its haunting images, at times reminiscent of The Silence of The Lambs, finally start making sense just as we realize that truth is nowhere to be found, and that dawn is coming even for a film as darkly lit as this one.
A bed in the middle of the woods. Beastly screams echo through the star-lit branches. Wait, was that a baby crying? Yes. It’s a girl. The morning has come. The car door squeaks. Sun. Irma lives.
The Horror of Maternity
a review of Tomorrow I Die by Tobiasz Dunin
In recent years, mainstream horror films have found a renewed popularity. In a genre that primarily intends to be disturbing and frightening, a new wave of works has strived to add more nuance through the use of social issues and themes like feminism or racism. With Tomorrow I Die, Hungarian director Nikol Cibulya could become a candidate to join a group of filmmakers that includes Ari Aster, Jordan Peele, and Robert Eggers. Although it’s her debut, she cannot be described as inexperienced as she directed a few short films and TV series.
Her first feature focuses on a pregnant Irma who travels to a cottage in the middle of the forest. After a short stint of solitude, she comes to the conclusion that she needs some company on the upcoming anniversary of her mother’s suicide, inviting her half-brother Marci (Márton Kerekes) and her friend Stefi (Emöke Piti). After sharing with them (plus some uninvited guests) the premonition about dying the next day, increasingly unexplainable and violent events take place.
It’s difficult not to analyze the movie from a feminist perspective when the main character is a pregnant woman. Irma is close to giving birth, and yet she decides to travel alone to a secluded place. Why does she take such a risk for her (and possibly the child’s) health? Or perhaps an attempt to take control of her life through dealing with the demons of her past? Her intentions are unclear, but she is certainly frightened. Despite her awkwardness, she manages to confront Marci about their problematic father. But to what end? Sadly, the script raises interesting questions without providing satisfying closure.
Niké Kurta turns out to be the perfect casting choice, as her performance is the greatest asset to the whole experience. She aptly plays the demanding role of a character full of anxiety, dread, and insecurity. Worth highlighting is also the supporting role of Márton Kerekes, whose character’s humorous comments provide welcome breaks from the strong tension. The tense atmosphere is underlined by the disquieting cinematography by Kiszler Dániel, eerie music by Andor Sperling, as well as energetic editing by Luca Bonta.
Cibulya doesn’t give the audience straight answers, at least not too early, and manages to build tension properly. Unfortunately, some of the film’s strengths get overshadowed by cheap jump scares whose sole purpose seems to be to shock the viewer. For that reason, the premise feels under utilized. Even if the message is vague, it’s tough to resist the impression that if you want to live up to an upcoming challenge, you have to let at least a part of yourself die.