All I want to do is be a radish spirit in a luxurious bathhouse for the spirits and be pampered like a pasha.
Krisha is good as Krisha, and we get some ornery schadenfreude at seeing this somewhat too congenial upper-class family’s Thanksgiving annihilated by the ultimate uninvited guest. But I was surprised at how technically gimcrack it was, particularly given all of the high praises.
The ultimate torpedo that sunk this ship was director Shults’s casting himself as the beloved, integral son whom receives constant praise for having talent beyond talent as a filmmaker. It struck me as slightly more solipsistic than…