I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but…
Director Eli Roth sharpens his cinematic vision to the point where it’s ready to carve up the holiday turkey, slicing into the most quintessentially American holiday outside of the 4th of July with a gleeful brutality that only he can deliver. In Thanksgiving, Roth aims to carve out a new seasonal horror, paying homage to the ’70s and ’80s slasher aesthetic while embracing his own gory trademarks. But as juicy as the set pieces are, Thanksgiving doesn’t always deliver the succulent feast we might be expecting.
The film sets its table with a simple premise: in Plymouth, Massachusetts, a masked killer begins a grisly rampage, one that spares few and seems fueled by an ironic vengeance rooted in the town’s holiday festivities. Roth leans heavily into every element of his trailer from Grindhouse, slicing through American holiday cheer with a sense of cruel delight that should feel familiar to fans of Cabin Fever or Hostel. But while the kills are inventive and executed with Roth’s trademark panache, they occasionally feel like side dishes in a film that forgot to serve a main.
Our characters include the usual small-town suspects—each seemingly pulled from a horror film central casting—and while that approach suits the throwback aesthetic, it doesn’t offer much depth. In particular, Patrick Dempsey’s character, a small-town sheriff with a chip on his shoulder, is one of the few who manages to leave a lasting impression. His role adds a touch of nostalgia, reminiscent of older slashers where local authority figures oscillate between reliable and dubious. Unfortunately, the script doesn’t allow him to chew the scenery as much as you’d hope, leaving much of his potential unfulfilled.
Where Thanksgiving does succeed is in its unrelenting commitment to splatter. Roth revels in practical effects, gifting the audience some stomach-churning sequences that dance between outrageous and grotesquely amusing. Each kill is as meticulously crafted as any elaborate turkey dinner—gruesome, inventive, and almost celebratory in its audacity. Roth’s mastery of practical effects is on full display, and fans will savour the dedication to old-school techniques that feel real enough to turn your stomach.
Yet, for all its visual impact, Thanksgiving falters in its pacing. Roth builds anticipation with a slow-cooking intensity in the first act, but the film can’t quite reach boiling point. Instead, it settles for a predictable menu, occasionally filling up on bread rather than tucking into more meaty fare. The killer’s motivation and backstory feels a little too contrived, more like a hastily thrown-together stuffing than a thoughtfully crafted dish.
Beneath the surface-level gore, however, there are moments where Thanksgiving hints at a deeper message. Roth slips in a subtle anti-commercialisation stance, critiquing the consumerist absurdity of Black Friday and the performative nature of holiday cheer. It’s an underbaked undercurrent that could have enriched the film had it been stronger, adding a layer of irony to the brutal festivities without over-seasoning the narrative.
The supporting cast, including Nell Verlaque, Addison Rae, and Gina Gershon, season the film with enough charm to keep the viewer engaged and while their characters may not stray far from the genre’s archetypes, they bring a knowing wink to the proceedings. Thanksgiving dances on the edge of being self-aware but never fully commits to the satire that could have elevated it beyond mere gore and nostalgia.
Thanksgiving has all the trimmings for a classic holiday horror, but it’s more appetiser than main course. For slasher fans who relish the simplicity of a bloody good time, Roth’s latest will hit the mark. However, anyone hoping for more than a screen drenched in splattered cranberry sauce might leave the table slightly underfed.
