Read @ Joe’s

Title: No Sleep Till (2024) Director: Alexandra Simpson Writer: Alexandra Simpson Studio: Omnes Films // Factory 25 IMDb Plot: When the coastal Florida town of Atlantic Beach is threatened by an impending hurricane, locals prepare for a mandatory evacuation. But as the last tourists depart and residents board-up their homes, a few wanderers feel strangely compelled to remain. Joe Says: No Sleep Till is a promising debut, unafraid to find beauty in standstill lives and slow-burning dread. Yet, No Sleep Till doesn’t crash, especially when it nearly demands such. Instead, it recedes.

In No Sleep Till, writer-director-editor Alexandra Simpson offers a low-decibel, visually lush meditation on inertia and anxiety in the face of a looming catastrophe. Shot documentary-style in the coastal Florida town of Atlantic Beach, the movie ebbs and flows like a warm tidal pool just outside of a touristy beach. There is a humid lead-up to an approaching hurricane but this docu-drama is more interested in the internal storms the characters quietly endure than what is happening up in the skies.

The overarching threat is oncoming but its ubiquitous nature is humdrum to long-time residents who would rather party or shoot selfies. Mandatory evacuations are announced, yet many stay. Not out of bravery, but out of malaise, longing, uncertainty, and quiet resistance. No Sleep Till shows a slice of the commonplace that anxiously abides the super-natural. 

There’s Will (Jordan Coley), a struggling stand-up comic whose punchlines barely mask deeper doubts, and Mike (Xavier Brown-Sanders), his best friend and reluctant partner, both stalled in an escape plan to Philly. June (Brynne Hofbauer), who bikes by closed shops and swims solo in ink-dark pools, registers the threat with the cool remove of someone already adrift. And then there’s Taylor (Taylor Benton), a storm chaser and proto-influencer, whose hunger for attention collides with the emptiness of the chase and the equally empty lives of other Floridians. 

Simpson clearly wants to show the anxiety and natural pulse of the neighborhood while interjecting the solemn, quietness of her characters, regardless of their inner rage. Hofbauer has large, questioning eyes. Benton rides the pulse of almost achieving viral attention but is coupled with his insecurity around others. And Coley’s smile is more electric than the circling lightning. Simpson slowly, calmly, quietly, shows all these moments. Rather than chase drama, Simpson lingers. The camera floats around as if bobbing along on an inflatable pool lounger, observing subjects with an intimate touch. The minutiae that attempts to stack up against the oncoming onslaught. 

Meanwhile, hotels board up. Pool cleaners chase leaves. Locals throw impromptu parties or shoot content for ethereal audiences. Simpson is more intrigued by the internal storms than those caused by the obvious climate change. She and cinematographer Sylvain Froidevaux care more about the visuals and mood rather than dialogue. 

If there’s a shortfall, it’s structural. With the hurricane fizzling offscreen, there’s no climactic reckoning for the cast; there is no physical storm to match the emotional ones. Instead, the characters dissolve into even more stillness instead of a deserved denouement. The result is both existential and unsatisfying.

No Sleep Till is a promising debut, unafraid to find beauty in standstill lives and slow-burning dread. In this regard, Simpson’s style is beautiful. Yet, No Sleep Till doesn’t crash, especially when it nearly demands such. Instead, it recedes. And in this quiet retreat, the movie leaves behind lives still half-packed, stories still waiting for the sky to break.