NO SLEEP TILL Review: The Acute Pleasures of a Tone Poem

Opening with the most tranquil of public swimming pools, a few swimmers go about their routine under the blazing hot sun in stark contrast to the attention-grabbing, but mechanically disjointed, text-to-speech of the National Weather Service warning broadcast blaring from loud speakers. 

No Sleep Till unfolds in a small Florida town just outside of Jacksonville, one which is on the cusp of being hit by major hurricane. The film exists entirely in the moment where anyone who was going to leave has already fled, and those who are used to simply staying put, have opted (again) to endure another spin of the weather roulette wheel. 

It's a state that exists in a paradox of 'pre-ennui' anticipation which is simultaneously the mundane workaday present, and a nostalgic reverie. Like somehow smelling ozone, before the lightning strike. 



Somewhere, floating languidly in the cinematic Bermuda Triangle bound by the points of The Ross Brothers (Tchoupitoulas), Apichatpong Weerasethakul (Cemetary of Splendor), and Harvard’s Sensory Ethnography Lab (Leviathan, Manakamana), you will find the superb slice of slow cinema that is Alexandra Simpson's debut feature.

The narrative, such that it is, is not the main filmmaking focus. The story fragments are subservient to the time and space of Atlantic Beach, not so much as its usual function as an affordable vacation spot for those who know of its low-key existence, but rather a moment of purgatory, a held-breath, on the eve of potential annihilation. 



There is June (Brynne Hofbauer, effortlessly channelling a young Rose Byrne) who works the last shift at a beach tourist shop, and bears witness to the last family carting their children and inflatables out of the county. She remains to pack up the sand globes and shell-crafted wind chimes to minimize breakage. We accompany her on more than one night-time bike ride which is a wonderful vehicle to serve up Sylvain Marco Froidevaux’s exceptional low light cinematography.

Then there are the odd-couple friends, Will and Mike, who are working on the merest sketch of a stand-up comedy act. After an open mike performance, they half-heartedly plan to hit Philadelphia to avoid the worst of the weather, but take the sweetest of time to go essentially nowhere, and hang out along the way. Lastly, there is introverted Taylor, a storm chaser (played by actual storm chaser Taylor Benton), who has arrived in town with the hope of landing some viral footage of ‘the big one,’ but gives off an air of abandoned melancholy in the few social interactions he has with the locals. 



Is there a grand plan for these narratives? Do they cleverly overlap or intersect? Are there character arcs or conflict? No. No. And not really. The film is actually not memorable in any conventional plotting and sense, but, and please hear me out, this is not a negative in the slightest. No Sleep Till is a vibe, an observational tone poem, and a neo-American vérité with shared DNA of Carl Lund’s Eephus.

The play of neon on rippling pool water, half-listened to radio broadcasts, and awkward social moments that go in ellipses rather than towards achieving any destination, it is a movie about stagnation, but oddly satisfying stagnation.

Visually, the framing often favours statically framed shots of people, not necessary the main characters, lit in isolation sitting, often alone, inside houses. In the same frame, this is contrasted to the dim outside sodium lamps, wind tossed palms, and wild, but silent, electrical storm off in the distance. There is an anodyne comfort spending time in and around the Atlantic Beach community with the four ‘main characters,’ and several local denizens on the periphery, who each get their own kind of moment by virtue of the camera lingering. But the true focus here is on the place itself.

Obviously, this sort of experience will not resonate with everyone, but for the patient and the curious, there is an acute pleasure in something that is determined to be ephemeral. 


No Sleep Till opens today for a one-week NY theatrical run at Metrograph In Theater in New York City. On Sunday, July 20, No Sleep Till will stream on Metrograph At Home for a two-month engagement on the platform.