I wanted more of something from Krisha, even though I’m not sure I could have taken it if I got it. Written and directed by Trey Edward Shults, this is at its best when it’s most closely aligned with the damaged, paranoid, chemically influenced perspective of its title character: a sixtysomething woman who is joining her extended family for Thanksgiving after a number of years away, presumably as an estranged addict. The film opens with an extreme close-up of Kirsha (Krisha Fairchild) as she delivers a dead stare to the camera, harrowing horror music thrumming in the background. The most striking moments of the movie work similarly: swerving camera movements as Krisha, who is in charge of the turkey, tries to concentrate amidst the familial chaos going on around her; a plinky, frantic beat on the soundtrack, as if her mind is audibly deteriorating; Krisha mumbling into her bathroom mirror, then furtively popping a pill or taking a swig of wine. It’s as if we’re experiencing that most familiar of American traditions—Thanksgiving dinner—through the eyes of an uncomfortable alien. The experience is intense and exhausting, yet when the movie retreats from this immersive aesthetic something undeniably is lost. It doesn’t make Krisha a worse film, just a more conventional one.
