No Sleep Till Review: A Deep Dive into the Existential Challenges of Florida’s Hurricane Season

      Note: This review was initially published as part of our 2024 Venice coverage. No Sleep Till will be released in theaters and will be available on Metrograph at Home starting July 18.

      A hurricane is approaching, and Atlantic Beach, Florida, is squarely in its path. The tourists have already evacuated, but most residents are staying put. Why? This is hurricane territory. None of this is unfamiliar. Perhaps the storm will hit, or maybe it won’t. Is the uncertainty worth the hassle of leaving town? Or is the thrill of experiencing the storm firsthand too enticing to miss? And what about those who, due to age or apathy, simply choose not to leave? This is home, after all; for many, it's all they've ever known.

      Alexandra Simpson’s No Sleep Till unfolds in a slice-of-life documentary style. It’s a subtle work, featuring stunning visuals (hats off to cinematographer Sylvain Froidevaux) and engaging characters navigating the bizarre contrasts of maintaining a mundane existence in the face of looming chaos. There’s a storm-chaser (Taylor Benton) documenting the hurricane from his truck, who is frequently invited by locals to share meals or crash at their places. A teenager (Brynne Hofbauer) goes about her work and social life as though everything is normal, reflecting daily life in Florida. Two best friends (Xavier Brown-Sanders and Jordan Coley) seize the opportunity of the mandatory evacuation as a chance to escape.

      We oscillate between these characters, with minor figures occasionally intersecting to add everyday flavor. Hofbauer works in a now-empty tourist shop. She and Brown-Sanders are seen hanging out at a local skate park. We catch a glimpse of Coley’s stand-up routine and share in his excitement about performing in Philadelphia and hoping for success in the big city. A father and daughter tidy up pools at abandoned homes, Benton relives past hurricanes through saved videos on his phone, while radio and television broadcasts discuss the hurricane's path and potential damage.

      However, I never felt a sense of real danger. Whether this was intentional or a result of the calmness projected by the characters, it creates a sense that nothing is amiss. Having lived in Florida for five years, I recall the allure of hurricane season and the anticipation of storms that never materialized (we relocated two years before Hurricane Andrew). Would we have had a different perspective if an evacuation order had been issued? Likely. Still, it’s hard to blame those who stay. Just look at the elderly gentleman who invites Benton in for ham and grits; his limited mobility makes staying home seem logical. Leaving every time warnings arise and dissipate would waste too much energy.

      This lack of urgency also stems from the absence of a concrete plot beyond a collective indifference to nature's fury. According to Simpson, this reflects a “common intention of atmosphere over narrative” among the Omnes Films collective. She and her collaborators aim to convey existential themes rather than straightforward storytelling. No Sleep Till could have opted to delve into one or several characters with clearer narratives and dramatic encounters, but that wouldn’t capture the unusual tranquility she displays instead. It would shift focus away from the complexity of today’s desensitization to calamity.

      Because not every situation is a matter of life and death––even those that alarmists might claim are. Sometimes what we perceive as dire is just a reason to celebrate. Occasionally, we embrace the threat of destruction to break free from our everyday drudgery and search for something more. So when the anticipated disaster fails to materialize and the adrenaline rush fades (this isn’t Twisters), those who haven’t acted might awaken to realize it’s just another Tuesday. The motivation will have to wait for next time.

      No Sleep Till made its debut at the Venice Film Festival.