Note: Krisha producer Wilson Smith is a Cinapse staff member and several folks involved with the film are acquaintances and friends of the reviewer. So while this won’t be an objective review (what review is?), it will be a wholly honest one.
The line of thinking has been followed by countless indie filmmakers. “I know how I’ll get my first feature off the ground! I’ll shoot the whole thing in my own house. I’ll cast my own family and friends. And we’ll shoot it in just a few days. I’ll act in it, direct it, and edit it myself. It’ll be great!” And countless times, that line of thinking has yielded lifeless art direction and set design, amateur performances, and drab cinematography that not only fails to serve as a young filmmakers calling card, but rather serves as the death knell to their cinematic aspirations. What seemed like such a great way to get a feature off the ground yields a feature film that no one outside of cast and crew will ever have any interest in engaging with.
Then along comes Texas filmmaker Trey Edward Shults, doing all of the above, and yet crafting something so powerful, cinematic, and personal, that you can’t help but marvel.
Krisha opens, after an intense close up shot of our lead character’s face accompanied by such haunting music that we know we can’t possibly be in for a whimsical ride, with a bravura long take introducing us to Krisha (Krisha Fairchild), the enormous family she has come to visit for Thanksgiving, and her troubled state of mind. Within minutes we have met the large cast of characters and gotten a sense of who they are, registered a certain unease among them, and have also been wholly drawn into the house which we’ll barely leave again for the duration of the film. Without any superfluous narration or exposition, we simply observe the family dynamics in a crowded and bustling household preparing for a Thanksgiving meal. There are several generations represented in the family, from great grandmother on down to a newborn baby. And it is clear that Krisha herself is the outlier. There’s a past between her and the rest of the family which has everyone on edge. With subtlety and grace we get the sense that Krisha and young adult Trey (Shults) have a particularly tense and awkward reunion. As the film plays out, middle class American audiences won’t be able to help seeing some reflection of their own family in this one. Wrestling young adult brothers, bickering but loving new parents, a small army of barking dogs, and plenty of bustle around the kitchen as the meal is prepared; there is something to connect with for most any audience member. Dr. Becker (Chris Doubek) humorously needs Trey to help with his computer, “crazy uncle” Doyle (Bill Wise) starts pushing Krisha’s buttons early on, adding another layer of humor to an otherwise fraught with tension tale. Mother of the household Robyn (Robyn Fairchild, Shults’ mother) tries to manage it all while being seemingly the most open and welcoming to Krisha among the family.
It sounds like fairly standard stuff, but the execution is anything but. Shot with bold and confident camera work that is so cinematic one immediately forgets we’re never leaving the house the director himself lives in, written with such soul-baringly personal grace, and scored in an uncomfortable key that always reminds us that the past is only moments from erupting into the present, Krisha offers filmmaking that feels almost impossibly assured for such a young first time feature filmmaker.
The same must be said for the development and ultimate conclusion of the devastating story. Far be it from me to spell out how this particular family Thanksgiving all plays out, as I highly recommend readers experience this film for themselves. (And being that Krisha has now won the Grand Jury Prize at the South By Southwest Film Festival, I’m confident that audiences will get a chance to see Krisha in some form or another in the not too distant future). But the natural escalation of stress and anxiety which simmers to a boil as an otherwise typical American Thanksgiving unfolds is almost effortless. While it would be inappropriate to lay out exactly what the source of tension is between Krisha and her family, as a significant part of the experience of watching the film is the process of coming to understand this, it is clear from the outset that Krisha’s presence at this gathering is a challenge for everyone, not the least of which for Krisha herself. There are unhealed wounds (both literally and figuratively) and simmering resentments and when it all comes to a head, many viewers will find themselves in tears, either because they relate very personally themselves, or simply because the authenticity of the relationships and performances here are so raw that a deep human chord is struck.
This is all the more profound with the knowledge that Shults cast his own aunt Krisha in the title role and based the story on an incident at the Thanksgiving dinner table amongst his own family members when he was younger. This knowledge isn’t essential to be fully engaged by the film, as the authenticity of the story will ring true with most any viewer who has had awkward encounters with their own immediate family. But the power of the film deepens when considering how raw the performances are, how intimate the screenplay is, and how singular it is for a family to open up their deepest, darkest struggles and to present them in an artfully rendered independent film for public discussion and dissection.
The stereotype of the earnest and ignorant young independent filmmaker attempting to craft something worthwhile in his mom’s basement and never quite amounting to anything is simply shattered by Shults’ Krisha. Counterbalancing the smaller nature of the setting and breadth of the story with assured and powerful cinematography, benefitting from perhaps a little luck that his own family members turn out to be phenomenal actors willing to bear their souls, and infusing his own remarkable talents as a writer with a bold vision for this intimate story, Trey Edward Shults has crafted something which undoubtedly deserves to be heralded as the breakout indie hit of South By Southwest 2015.
And I’m Out.
