‘Sorry, We’re Dead’ Depicts a Deadpan Quarter-Life Crisis With a Bay Area Bent

In his first feature film Sorry, We’re Dead, Bay Area filmmaker Alex Zajicek combines absurdism, comedy and his love of metanarrative to portray the unraveling of Lana Jing’s life as she endures a career-related, quarter-life crisis. Armed with sarcasm and the encouragement of a secret admirer, Jing could be closer than ever to reaching her destiny — or at least a path leading away from her current job.

Sorry, We’re Dead is one of the many films playing at the Oakland International Film Festival, which kicked off its 22nd year last week. With the hope of using film to capture and uplift Bay Area ways of life, there’s something for everyone in this year’s lineup of films made for and inspired by local folks.

In Contra Costa county, we meet Lana Jing (Sarah Lee) deeply engulfed in ennui as a result of her tedious, soul-sucking job as a video editor of college lectures. Jing is at a crossroads in her professional life, but lacks the confidence or drive to do anything about it. She knows she needs to take action in some way, and quickly — a chipper voicemail from her boss late at night tells us she’s about to get even more videos added to her plate, despite an already booked calendar. Jing is immobilized, overwhelmed, only able to lie back in bed on the verge of tears, holding a plush, stuffed chicken.

Outside of her video editing job, Jing, whose character contains traces of Aubrey Plaza and her deadpan delivery style, has been working to get her own film career off the ground. But with more work and a potential promotion on the horizon, Jing has had less and less time to focus on her own endeavors. Her last bit of hope feels dependent on getting a response from a California screenwriting contest. Friends like her coworker Burd Juarez (San José-born Davied Morales) have been trying to encourage her, offering connections to freelance gigs, but she’d need the confidence to actually pick up the phone and call those job prospects. “I probably can’t even do what they need,” she tells Juarez.

If Jing’s relatable imposter syndrome doesn’t immediately suck you in, Alex Zajicek’s supply of dry humor for the character will. Jing has the ability to break the fourth wall á la The Office, and helps us get a sense of every new character we meet by providing us with on-screen chyrons.

Her roommate, Monica Walker (Anna Sharpe) gets a bullet point that lets us know she’s Jing’s best friend. Jin’s (annoying) coworker Michael Stevens (Chris Morrell), gets a chyron that not only follows him as he moves on screen, but covers up his head.

At times, Zajicek’s cinematic choices reminded me a bit of Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. There are scenes shot in black and white, stop-motion animations, tiny cartoon versions of Jing’s character that sit on her shoulders, absurd signage, and Apple sound effects added to real-life actions.

Zajicek, a known fan of adding meta elements to his work, throws in plenty of those moments too. In one scene Jing sits with her roommate Walker in the car and says, “I could really use like, a third act turning point right now that fixes everything.” Walker laughs and replies, “Imagine if the film ended right now.” On screen, the credits start rolling. “I wonder who’s playing me,” Jing asks.

Her dialogue with Walker is the only thing keeping us tethered to the plot while the cast and crew names appear in white against a black screen. “Sarah … Lee,” Jing reads. “This is my movie, why couldn’t I couldn’t get Constance Wu to play me?” she asks. “Who’s even directing it? Alex …” she struggles to pronounce Zajicek’s last name.

Festivalgoers will also appreciate Zajicek’s nods to everyday Bay Area life. At one point, Walker turns to Jing and says, “You ready to brave the city traffic?” Cut to a scene of standstill traffic on a Bay Area bridge, complete with honking, wailing sirens and agonized screaming.

Perhaps the best moment for locals comes toward the film’s end. Wheels spinning from another difficult lecture video edit, Walker pulls Jing out of bed to try and enjoy some time in the sun, away from work. “It’s so depressing here,” Jing says of the surrounding greenery. “It’s all gonna be dead by summer.”

“That’s what all the grass in California does,” Walker counters. “It doesn’t die, it’s just dormant.” Maybe this whole time, Jing too has been waiting for one good, heavy rain to help her sprout up with the energy to escape her ennui and start again.

‘Sorry, We’re Dead’ plays at Northeastern University (formerly Mills College, 5000 MacArthur Blvd., Oakland) as part of the Oakland International Film Festival on Friday, Sept. 20, 2024, 8:40 p.m. It also screens at the New Parkway Theater (474 24th St., Oakland) on Sept. 29, 12:15 p.m.