Review: "It Comes at Night"

Last year I saw a tiny independent film called “Krisha” written, directed, edited and co-starring Trey Edward Schults. It was shot on a Kickstarter shoestring, had a cast largely made up of Schults’ relatives and took place in the family home. I raved about the amazing debut of an intriguing new filmmaker, and ended my review with a simple, unprecedented request: “More, please.”

More has been granted: “It Comes at Night,” an eerie psychological horror/thriller that gets under your skin quickly, and burrows.

Schults’ first studio film is a triumph of unease. I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt so uncomfortable sitting in a movie theater. Its pervading sense of paranoia and doom leeches into your body like a dank fog creeping up out of the fetid swamp of primordial humanity.

“It Comes at Night” has a familiar premise, but achieves its ends through a gradual build-up of mood rather than the standard short spurts of shocking violence.

It’s set a few years after some kind of apocalypse that has claimed most of mankind. There are scattered pockets of survivors here and there, and even they’re not truly sure what happened. People started becoming ill, the disease spready rapidly, setting off a panic, followed by waves of death. The only way to prevent it seems to be not to interact with others.

Even then, death comes stalking. Kelvin Harrison Jr. plays Travis, a teenager living with his family in the basement of a lonesome house in the woods. As the story opens, his grandfather (David Pendleton) is rasping out his last breaths, horrid sores covering every inch of his body. Wearing hazmat suits, he and his father, Paul (Joel Edgerton), carry the dying man out to the forest in a wheelbarrow.

They carry a gun and a shovel; no more needs be said.

Travis shared a bedroom with his grandpa, so visions of contracting the sickness invade his consciousness. Much of the movie involves our perspective slipping in and out of the boy’s waking and dream states, so we’re not entirely clear what is real and what is imagined.

Carmen Ejogo is Sarah, the wife and mother. They gather as a family around the eating table in dim lamplight to discuss their problems and concerns. Dad is clearly in charge and orders strict protocols: No going out at night, never be alone outdoors, don’t talk to anybody, keep weapons close at hand.

We get the lay of the land when someone breaks into the house, foraging for food. Will (Christopher Abbott) is in many ways Paul’s counterpart: a patriarch trying to keep his family alive and safe. Later, we’ll meet Will’s wife, Kim (Riley Keough), and their toddler son (Griffin Robert Faulkner) -- though I’ll leave it to you to discover how.

The two families’ parallel desires quickly come into conflict, and hard choices must be made -- and unexpected opportunities weighed.

It’s clear Paul and Sarah are prepared to do what they must, including kill. Travis has a kind heart and is inclined to trust instinctively. He’s grown to the brink of manhood knowing only the tiny microcosm of his family, and is eager to explore the greater world. He spies on Will and Kim’s intimate moments, and is intrigued by the presence of woman only a few years older than himself.

Schults carefully maps out this suffocating little world, showing us the gripping dread that lurks at the edges. The house becomes another character, a grubby hidey-hole where the family bars itself against certain death -- I thought of Anne Frank -- separated by a bright red door heralding the dangers waiting outside.

Fear can help you to survive, but is it any way for people to live? “It Comes at Night” explores the distressing no man’s land where instinct and empathy cross paths.

Review: "Krisha"

"Krisha" is one of the strongest feature film debuts I've ever seen by a young filmmaker.

The fact the film was shot in nine days using a five-figure Kickstarter campaign is impressive. But what truly astounds is that writer/director/co-star Trey Edward Schults used his own family and friends as the cast, shot in his own parents' home, based on an incident that really happened during a Thanksgiving gathering.

If you think, based on that description, that this is some sort of semi-pro effort, the sort of thing that rarely sees light beyond the festival circuit, you'd be very wrong. It is an incredibly poised, emotionally mature and technically assured piece of work -- the sort of lightning in a bottle most veterans hope to capture once or twice in a career.

The performances are uniformly marvelous, which is more impressive when one considers many of them are non-actors. They largely use their real-life names, including the central character. For some their only other experience was playing in a short film version of this same story Schults made in 2014.

Krisha (Krisha Fairchild) is both the subject and object of the film. A sixtysomething woman who walked out on her extended family a decade ago, she rejoins them at a critical stage -- for them, and for her. She has just reached the point of desiring to reintegrate herself into their midst and atone for old sins. They have just reached the threshold of being willing to accept her. (Though some more so than others.)

This simple family gathering becomes Krisha's crucible. She reacts, and is reacted to. Past resentments quickly flare to the surface. There is reason for hope and cause for dismay. Eventually things reach a crisis point from which there is no return. (About which I'll say no more.)

Fairchild is Schults' real-life aunt but plays his mother here; he plays himself (or a version thereof). Abandoned by his mom as a kid, Trey is now about to graduate from college with a business management degree. Krisha presses him to not abandon his youthful dream of becoming a filmmaker. He is clearly unreceptive to her overtures.

Fairchild is a remarkable physical subject for the camera. With a strong, magnificent face and flowing mane of silver hair, she resembles a powerful Earth goddess traipsing among the mortals. But Krisha (the character) is a bundle of wounds and needs. In between the frantic give-and-take of a large house full of people, she makes short, urgent phone calls, apparently to a new lover. Ostensibly checking in, they sound just this side of desperation.

Unexplainedly, Krisha is missing part of an index finger, which she keeps wrapped in bandages and occasionally spritzes with medicine. It's a direct, if understated, visual message: she's lost parts of herself, parts of her loved ones' lives are missing to her.

The family seems a typical upper-middle-class one. There are so many people, we're not sure at first exactly who is who -- it's possible Krisha doesn't know, either. There are new spouses, a new baby, strapping young men horsing around and watching sports, Krisha's sisters (Robyn and Victoria Fairchild), their husbands, someone's daughter, and later Krisha's aged mother (Ballie Fairchild) freshly picked up from the nursing home.

There are two older men, husbands of the sisters, fathers of the sons, who are quite different from each other. Becker (Chris Doubek) is a doctor and an introverted bundle of nerves. He seems to seek the shadows in every social encounter. But Krisha spies on a moment of genuine warmth between him and Trey, and grows envious.

Then there's Doyle, an acerbic type who always must be the center of attention. It's a scene-stealing performance by Bill Wise, as written and played. Doyle is part Southern gentleman, part witty raconteur, part pain-in-the-ass-for-its-own-sake. He's very good at picking apart the foibles of others; less so at aiming that pinched gaze at himself.

"I'm goddamn Superman; I eat leather and shit saddles!" is one of his many annunciations. Things like this are said in a joshing tone, but we suspect he really embraces it.

Schults' camera wanders through the household like am apparition, seeking out pools of conversation and encounters. The roving cinematography is reminiscent of later Terrence Malick (under whom Schults interned), while the overlapping dialogue is straight from Robert Altman's repertoire. (If you're doing to steal, steal from the best.)

The director uses these techniques to great effect. We feel caught up in the whirlwind as Krisha experiences it. Sometimes we see things from her perspective; sometimes the reverse shot as she is gazed upon and judged. In one very powerful sequence late in the film, we revisit previous encounters and see how they registered from Krisha's point of view.

He also integrates music beautifully into the proceedings, such as a Nina Simone song that accompanies Krisha during the beginning of her downfall. It's amazing how delusion can often feel so magical ... at least for a while.

"Krisha" takes the quotidian stresses and strains of an unremarkable family and transforms them into a subtle, violent warfare of the soul. Trey Edward Shults: More, please.