Really wish this hadn't botched the landing, because up until the closing stretch, though it's certainly a whiplash-inducing tonal mess, I'm pretty much on board. Appreciated the somewhat generic indie movie discomfort of the first 20 minutes being turned on its head when the narrative violently shifts to a descent into harrowing self-destruction a la A Woman Under the Influence. Brie has to do some major heavy lifting, especially since the film doesn't allot nearly enough time to ease us into her perspective and make the drastic turn into psychological horror believable, but she mostly sells it. And while I think the film's major failure is not concluding with some sense of thematic relevance or coherence, I admire how relentlessly strange this gets. What could be a fairly forgettable, quirky indie drama if approached with a Hallmark sense of sentimentality is instead slowly drained of compassion and boldly eschews overt messaging or pleas for sympathy in favor of subversion. I can't help but be endeared by how uncompromising and alienating it is, even if it doesn't work.