Trey Edward Shults’s debut feature “Krisha” is a raw,
passion project about addiction and the damage it can inflict on a family.
Based partly on Shults’s own turbulent family life, the film was made for
around fifteen thousand dollars and shot in the director’s family home over a
period of nine days. In addition, while Shults plays a supporting role in the
film, his aunt Krisha Fairchild plays the titular protagonist, his mother Robyn
Fairchild plays Krisha’s sister, and his own grandmother plays his grandma. In
this regard “Krisha” quite literally a “home movie” (that went on to gain
overwhelming critical acclaim at the 2015 South by Southwest film festival),
giving it a layer of authenticity and intimacy it wouldn’t other wise have.
“Krisha” can be uncomfortable to watch and it certainly
doesn’t build to a neat and happy conclusion, which is somewhat foreshadowed by
the film’s ominous, surrealistic opening scene: a close up of a disheveled
Krisha surrounded by black, staring intensely off into the distance, while
Brian McOmber’s eerie and unnerving electronic score flairs up in the
background. After that, we cut to a mundane residential neighborhood and watch
as Krisha arrives at her sister’s (Robyn Fairchild) house for Thanksgiving. Krisha
hasn’t seen anyone (her sister, her brother in law, her nieces and nephews or
her grandma) in ten years due to drug/alcohol troubles and is hoping to make
amends with everyone, especially her estranged son Trey (played by Shults
himself).
At first things start out warm and peaceful—Krisha is
welcomed with open arms and pleasantries are exchanged. Krisha even takes on
the important job of cooking the turkey, showing initiative on her part to
rejoin the familial circle. Yet, this familial tranquility is not meant to
last; past demons are brought up and cracks begin to reappear in the
foundation.
Ultimately, “Krisha” is less about substance abuse and
relapse and more about the long term negative affects addiction can have on
those around the abuser. Even after a period of ten years (which feels like a
lifetime to me) internal wounds may still be fresh as and no matter how hard
one might try in making amends they are still looked at as an outsider (a
negative and destructive force) in the eyes of their loved ones. For Krisha,
the obstacle isn’t necessarily drugs and alcohol but the pressure, the
embarrassment and the terror of confronting the ones she loves.
Not exactly an uplifting picture but to his credit Shults’s
doesn’t resort to any cheap melodrama or manipulation when dealing with the
film’s big moments. Most of the time, he lets the tender, heartbreaking
interactions between Krisha and her various family members unfold without any
bells or whistles. On top of that, at a brisk eighty minutes, Shults keeps the
film moving at a steady, unhurried pace. He’s not in a hurry to tell his deeply
personal story; the transition from tranquility to chaos is gradual and organic
as opposed to sudden and forced. And all of this is anchored by the sixty five year
old Fairchild who gives a powerfully understated performance that draws both
sympathy and frustration from the audience.
In terms of appearance, “Krisha” primarily uses a
minimalistic Cinema Verite style, consisting of lengthy uninterrupted shots (that
can sometimes last up to three minutes), allowing for maximum authenticity.
During these scenes the camera is often at a distance, making the audience feel
like visitor/voyeur and emphasizing the emotional and mental distance between
Krisha and her family members as well. Along with the realist style are fast,
trippy montages (that carry the same ominous, surrealistic tone found in the
opening scene) interspersed throughout, intensifying as more familial turmoil
is brought to the surface.
In the Cinema Verite style sequences the camera is usually
still and only diegetic sound can be heard, signaling a sense of calm. In the
montages, the camera is frantically gliding and zipping around the house and
characters, with the electronic score becoming increasingly unhinged and
intrusive, reflecting the internal tensions between Krisha and her family.
While things may appear to be calm and tranquil on the surface, chaos and
pressure is mounting just below, waiting to explode onto the surface. “Krisha”
successfully blends the realist presentation of a John Cassavetes movie with
the surrealistic style of Darren Aronofsky’s drug drama “Requiem for a Dream.”
In the end, it’s better to perhaps look at “Krisha” as a
form of therapy for Shults and his family. Watching the film and reading
interviews with him afterwards it’s clear he’s working through some deep seeded
issues. And what better way to heal from family turmoil than to channel it into
a creative endeavor? As is the case with most directorial debuts it’s a solid
feature but doesn’t cut as deep as it should. Now, this is partly due to
production constrictions—a micro budget and an extremely short amount of time
to shoot. While the ending is intense and hallucinogenic, it’s also abrupt,
leaving me somewhat unsatisfied. I’m not saying the movie needed to neatly
resolve itself but it practically cuts off mid sentence, as if Shults ran out
of time.
There are other issues. I wish Shults had fleshed out some
of the other family members, particularly his own character Trey. Being
Krisha’s son and the main person she’s trying to make amends with, he should have played a much larger role. Aside
from an early conversation between him and Krisha, he stays curiously off to
the side most of the time. Additionally, we’re given very little information in
regards to Krisha’s time as an addict. While we’re clearly supposed to feel
sympathy and pity towards Krisha, we’re also meant to sympathize with the
family and be aware of all the damage Krisha caused them. Therefore, it would
have been beneficial to give us some idea of what Krisha was like at her very worse,
just so we can better see the situation from their point of view.
Despite these issues, “Krisha” is still a worthwhile and
intimate feature, showing that Shults has potential to become a great
filmmaker.
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