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2010s, 2019, A+, Grade, Horror, mystery, Review, review-movie, slasher, Thriller, Year

Film Review: Us – 2019

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Director(s)Jordan Peele
Principal CastLupita Nyong’o as Adelaide Wilson/Red
Winston Duke as Gabe Wilson/Abraham
Shahadi Wright Joseph as Zora Wilson/ Umbrae
Evan Alex as Jason Wilson/ Pluto
Release Date2019
Language(s)English
Running Time 116 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Note: This review contains spoilers regarding the first 40 minutes of the film as opposed to the site’s usual benchmark of 10-20 minutes. The same effort towards sustaining the intrigue and momentum of the film, especially in its second and third acts, is maintained in this review, and all plot details revealed are just meant to be a springboard to discuss the scope of the work in better detail. Nothing discussed should undermine the “best” portions of the film or the many mysteries that keep the story engaging.

Thousands of tunnels exist underneath the Continental United States with no known purpose.
A weather warning about a storm.
An add for “Hands Across America”.
Adelaide (Madison Curry) sees her reflection on the screen.
An ad for the Santa Monica Beach.
Adelaide (Madison Curry) wins the “11th” prize.
After an introductory quote, the camera slowly pushes in towards a television which features a wide range of images on its screen: a weather warning, an advert for a charitable performance, a young girl’s reflection, and an advert for a beach. This initial tapestry will come to mean something far greater as the film continues.

The film opens with a quote explaining that there are thousands of tunnels underneath the Continental United States. Many of these passages have no known purpose and are thought to be empty. The quote disappears and the film cuts to a television screen which the camera slowly pushes in towards.

First, a weather report for an incoming storm plays. The number “11” is featured in the frame in three separate locations – a sign of things to come. Second, an advert for “Hands Across America”, a fundraiser meant to generate funds for the homeless via donation and a public demonstration of persons linking their hands across the country, proceeds in detail. The channel is changed by the viewer, a young black girl, Adelaide (Madison Curry), whose reflection can be seen on the screen temporarily. Finally, an advert for the Santa Monica Beach proceeds. Thus, the tapestry of the film is established: a storm, the number “11”, a mirror reflection, a symbol of unification meant to help the disenfranchised, and a beach for persons to enjoy a vacation in.

This image of the beach is replaced by the beach proper. Adelaide and her parents attempt to enjoy the festivities present at the location. Her father wins her the “11th” numbered prize, a Michael Jackson Thriller t-shirt, and the family unit departs to explore the grounds.

Adelaide (Madison Curry) heads towards the hall of mirrors.
She drops her apple on the beach.
Adelaide (Madison Curry) enters the hall of mirrors as a storm rages on behind her.
Adelaide (Madison Curry) is forced to confront distorted reflections and is unable to find an exit.
Adelaide (Madison Curry) comes face to face with her corporeal Other.
Adelaide (Madison Curry) screams in terror.
A rabbit stares into the camera.
The blood red title card appears.
A classroom of caged rabbits is revealed.
The prologue continues to develop the meaning of the television images that came before in disturbing fashion. The “11’s” come to be associated with a Biblical warning promising terrible things to come. As the young Adelaide descends a staircase, drops her red apple, enters a maze of mirrors, and finds herself trapped by her reflections with no way out, the feeling of dread continues to get worse before bursting as she finds herself face-to-face with a corporeal doppelgänger. She screams but instead of showing a direct response to her cry for help, Peele cuts to the eyes of a rabbit and has the camera slowly track out – an opposite movement to the opening. The title card drops in a blood red that call’s back to the apple before the brand new environment, a classroom filled with rabbits, is shown with seemingly no explanations.

The trio splits apart and Adelaide finds herself roaming the grounds of the beach and its festivities by herself. She comes upon a man holding a sign reading “Jeremiah 11:11.” The Bible Verse in question proclaims: “Therefore this is what the LORD says: ‘I will bring on them a disaster they cannot escape. Although they cry out to me, I will not listen to them.” The preceding signs of “11” take an ominous tone, especially in conjunction with the aforementioned storm – something wicked is coming.

Adelaide descends a set of stairs and the mood gets eerier. She comes upon a Native American themed hall of mirrors titled “Shaman’s Vision Quest.” Thus, the indigenous is transformed into a commercial specter promising an internal revelation. The young girl drops her candy-coated apple – an Edenic symbol and a snack food associated with Halloween- on the shore before venturing into the abode. The foreboding feeling continues to build as a storm begins to rage outside – the ominous pieces showcased in the opening rear their heads in successive fashion.

Inside, Adelaide is thrown off guard first by a random power outage which forces her to traverse the darkness, a mechanical owl that frightens her, and then by a series of mirrors which distort her reflection and make the exit to the attraction impossible to locate. Her journey inwards transforms into a reflective labyrinth with no way out. Afraid, she starts to whistle the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” in an attempt to calm herself down. But as she proceeds to try and find through the maze of mirrors, she runs into a doppelganger – a corporeal copy of her instead of a reflection in glass. Her face breaks out into shock as the camera closes in on her expression before quickly cutting to the gaze of a rabbit staring into the frame.

In contrast to the opening push in on the television, the camera pulls back from this new visage, as though concluding the initial movement and tying the two together, and reveals a host of rabbits, all of which are trapped in sequential cages spanning the entire room. The blood red title card drops, calling back to the dropped apple from earlier and signaling an impending sense of violence.

The composition of this new room seems to be a classroom setting but outside of desks and rabbits there are no identifiable markers to make sense of where we’ve been transported to or why Adelaide’s scream has been answered with the gaze of an animal. The words of Jeremiah make this jarring edit all the more concerning. Is the cut to caged animals a deified sign of abandonment in response to Adelaide’s horror or something else entirely?

The camera goes over a forest…
…and settles on a car driving along.
An image on the back of the car reveals the family’s backdrop before we even see them – we know their makeup.
The camera moves over trees to the back of a car; an image of a family informs us of our lead characters before we get a chance to see them.

Instead of an answer, the momentum from the camera pulling out continues as the film cuts to a view of a lush, green forest. A car is seen driving through the greens. A sticker on the back of the car informs us that a family of four – a father, a mother, a son, a daughter – are traveling together. The symbolic representation of the family conveys all the information that’s required to understand this unit’s breakdown, but the camera cuts to reveal the individual persons behind the figures, imbuing the symbols with a content that personalizes them. A grown up Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o) and her husband, Gabe (Winston Duke), are taking their kids, Zora (Shahadi Wright) and Jason (Evan Alex), to their beach house for a fun-filled vacation.

Adelaide arranges a host of toy animals “hand-to-hand” across a sandy plane, recreating the “Hands Across America” image.
Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o) is transfixed by her past.
A spider runs past its inanimate Other looming over it and casting a shadow.
Adelaide’s trauma stays at the forefront of her mind and sings from her past linger like a puzzle for her to solve.

However, while things appear to be normal within the family, it’s apparent that the past still haunts Adelaide. While her family engages in a variety of shenanigans that helps us get a feel for their respective personalities – Jason is a playful trickster, Zora is a moody teen, Gabe is an energetic and playful father – Adelaide drifts from the present to the past, reliving her confrontation with her doppelganger and its aftermath. At first, she recounts the therapy session her parents took her to following the event. It’s revealed that she lost her ability to speak following the encounter with her Other self and built a line of toy animals “holding” each other’s “hands” across a beach-like backdrop; this image of unity, a reference to the “Hands Across America” advert from earlier was her object of focus in the face of trauma. Suddenly, she snaps back to the present and notices a spider crawling under a larger, inanimate model spider – an “itsy bitsy” spider and its unalive Other casting a shadow over it.

Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o) stares at a stuffed bunny in adoration.
Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o) looks at an image from her past.
Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o) sees her younger self dancing in front of her.
She can’t escape her fate as her past bleeds into her present and the symbols and their respective relationships continue to develop – a confrontation is coming soon.

Later on, she curiously picks up a stuffed bunny and looks at it with affection – a perplexing connection given the nature of the cut from her encounter with her Other self to the caged rabbit. Despite seemingly not encountering the creature herself, her encounter having ended with the confrontation and never approaching the hidden room containing the furry creatures, the animal has a hold over her. Along with the doll, she finds a picture of her from her youth in dance garb. This younger self materializes in the present, bringing her trauma to the forefront of her psyche and cementing the connection between the furry creature and the past that still haunts her. The web of symbols continues to get more intermixed amongst one another.

When Gabe mentions wanting to take the family to the Santa Monica Beach for the evening, Adelaide quickly refuses. She fears giving her trauma more control over her psyche via a confrontation with the arena in which she experienced it. Yet, her family’s, namely Gabe’s, passionate pleas get her to acquiesce to a short visit.

Gabe’s boat presentation doesn’t go as well as he hopes.
The police take the body of the man who held the “Jeremiah 11:11” sign.
The Wilson family casts long shadows on the beach.
Jason (Evan Alex) walks past the mirrors.
A red frisbee perfectly covers an image of a blue circle.
Jason (Evan Alex) sees a bleeding man on the beach.
No sooner do they she leave the house do creepy coincides start to arrive – 11:11, shadows, the house of mirrors, replacement, and a spectacle that causes fear. The past is starting to repeat.

He calls the family out to bask in his new boat purchase, albeit one that barely works and seems far from pristine, before the group leaves for the beach. His short-lived material celebration starts the journey on a dour note. The mood shifts towards a jovial attitude as Luniz’s “5 on It” plays on the car radio, prompting the family to sing along and share in the experience – fitting given the lyrics’ emphasis on paying one’s fair share (for drugs). However, as they get closer to the supposedly serene vacation spot, they notice police officers dealing with a deceased person. The camera lingers on a sign in the corpse’s hand just long enough to reveal that this is most likely the same person from Adelaide’s past who held and is still holding the Jeremiah 11:11 sign.

It’s not just her repression coming back into fold within her psyche, but the event itself seems to be repeating – a beach, then the quite literal sign from Jeremiah. If the pattern follows, confrontation with the Other is next. Fittingly, the soundscape transforms and an eerie chorus takes charge with a background chant. The sound of drums introduces a sense of discord as the family makes their way across the beach, casting large shadows, doubles, against the sand.

The mood turns temporarily jovial again as the group makes contact with their wealthier friends, the Tylers, who immediately engage in frivolities, boasting about their materialistic interests and highlighting the still-present class differences between the two families; even with a summer-home and a boat, the Wilson’s still experience a disjunction between their expectations of “wealthy life” and their reality. However, a series of unnerving coincidences continue to prop up during the groups dialogue, becoming increasingly disconcerting for Adelaide, who stays on a razor edge the entire time, watching over her family and ensuring that nothing happens to them.

Soon after, Jason momentarily disappears going towards the bathroom, passing by the same hall of mirrors his mother went into years ago during her fateful encounter. However, the location has gone through a transformation, and the indigenous décor has been replaced by European iconography; the Native American mascot has given way and been replaced by the wizard Merlin as it’s the European stand-in who now promises to reveal one’s “true” self. This seemingly innocuous transformation imbues the idea of the “Other” as a double that the film has been building with newfound colonialist undertones. This idea is accentuated when a red frisbee randomly falls onto the towel Adelaide is sitting on; an image of a blue dot is completely covered with a physical red circular object- a callback to the dropped Edenic apple from her youth and a repetition of the double as a replacement.

When Jason returns from the bathroom, the pressure building up culminates in a violent experience: he sees a loner bleeding out on the beach, seemingly unaware of the world around him. The air is rife with malevolence and it seems that something terrible is about to happen as history is on the verge of repeating. But Jason is immediately “rescued” by Adelaide, who refuses to allow her son to go through the same trauma she did when left to her own devices all those decades ago. The Wilson family quickly departs and leaves the scene before anything else can threaten to happen.

Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o) reaches out to Jason (Evan Alex).
The clocks hits “11:11”
Adelaide realizes Jason’s seen too much – the violence is imminent.
Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o) looks at her reflection while recounting her past.
The power goes out after Gabe tries to “lighten” the mood.
The Wilson’s doppelgängers stand in silhouette holding each others hands.
Try as she might, Adelaide can’t hold back the past’s encroachment and comes face to face with the doppelgänger she’s spent her whole life running from. Thus, the confrontation with the shadow Other begins (again).

Adelaide tries to reestablish a sense of normalcy back at the home. She reaches out to Jason and holds his hand, showcasing a sense of affection and solidarity with him given his off-kilter experience. But then the clock hits 11:11. Jeremiah’s warning refuses to go away and no number of assurances can hold back the tide of problems he prophesizes to come. Adelaide knows as much when she sees Jason’s drawing of his extreme encounter; violence is on the way and it can no longer be stopped or ignored.

She starts to come undone as her walls break down; the trauma of her past cannot be compartmentalized any longer. Suddenly, she finds herself telling Gabe about her history on the beach and her fateful encounter with her doppelganger; despite being able to get away from her Other, she lives in fear of eventually being caught by them and subject to something heinous. Gabe tries to lighten the mood with some humor, but the power, as if in response, goes out; just like the funhouse all those years ago, Adelaide is forced to traverse the darkness and find a way out, this time with family in tow.

But try as she might, she can’t run away from her destiny and finds herself face-to-face with a group of doppelgangers, one matching each of her own family members. This group, fully unified in a hand-to-hand embrace, stands in shadowy silhouette, ready to confront their “other” selves, our protagonists. For close to 40 minutes, Peele has let the respective elements – rabbits, reflections, shadows, Jeremiah’s warning, doubles – build up against a vantage point alluding to systemic violence – classism and imperialism – before finally allowing the battle between the self and its Other to “truly” begin in explosive fashion.

At a surface level, this story about doubles is unnerving in its own right and comes replete with its own associated motifs and undercurrents – the ideas of the loss of self and the encounter with unsavory elements that one tries to repress. And at this level, Peele certainly allows genre elements to play out in visceral, brutal fashion as the encounter marks the start of a series of escalating, violent clashes between the mirrored selves. However, the beauty of Us, stems not from these identifiable moments of subjective violence but from the way such moments reveal the “zero-level standard” of an “objective” violence that operate unseen in the background [1] Zizek, S. (2008). The Tyrant’s Bloody Nose . In Violence. introduction, Picador. . By placing identical but completely different persons, objects, and musical choices against one another and intermixing between them, Peele forces us to confront the ideological basis we use to categorize similar looking phenomena into completely distinct categories.

The ever-present doubling necessitates a navigation as every reflection brings with it its own set of questions. Characters don’t just meet their doubles at an individual level, but they also experience that double at a familial and social level – every structure, big and small, is presented with its mirror image which becomes more fragmented the bigger it gets. This makes the opening of the film before the confrontation all the more relevant, as even subtle characterizations become pivotal in examining the way differences bleed from the micro to the macro and become terrors that must be confronted.

Even the musical choices – inspired tracks which include the Beach Boy’s “Good Vibrations”, Fuck Tha Police by N.W.A, and the aforementioned “5 on It” by Luniz – play into this introspection as the context in which they play changes and symbolically restructures the nature of what the lyrics are getting at, sometimes within the same scene in which they’re introduced. No sound-image is as simple as its initial presentation and the constant juxtapositions force the viewer to navigate a maze of reflections, much like Adelaide did, in order to find the “truth” within.

It’s only by the end of the film that the nature and power of this “truth” is revealed as it operates both as a structuring mechanism within the narrative as a whole and as the grammar the film proper utilizes in jumping from scene to scene, demonstrating that the true horror comes not from an identifiable subject acting maliciously as much as it does from our symbolic interpretation of that violence qua violence – horror is what we make of it.

However, this message becomes muddied in the final act. Unlike Denis Villenevue’s Enemy, another doppelgänger horror thriller which commits emphatically to a surreal and less grounded worldbuilding in its storytelling approach and opts to use symbols as points and counterpoints to guide the viewer forward in a maze of meaning, Us bizarrely pivots to trying to ground its narrative in a sense of realism that immediately makes it seem absurd. We’re so attuned to the interplay of the symbols and the nuances behind them because of Peele’s dedication to getting us to engage with the film in a more cerebral manner that the film’s decision to explain the mystery in more concrete, definite terms ends up distracting us from what came before. Focus becomes split as suddenly the concern shifts from trying to understand the way violence operates vis-a-vis said symbols to the mechanics behind the way the narrative unfolds – a regrettable choice as its in this latter section that Us is far better at showing than explaining. It’s like reading poetry, filled with metaphor and analogy, and then being interrupted by mechanic prose which disrupts the melody; consequently, the poignancy of what came before feels less so.

Compared to his Peele’s previous effort, Get Out, which has a far smaller scope in what it wants to target but is far more concise in getting there, Us can feel haphazard, but the ambitions behind what it wants to say make it just as interesting, if not more so, to discuss and analyze. If one is willing to suspend their sense of disbelief for just long enough, they’ll walk away just as changed as the characters do by the end of this shadowy encounter.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThough it stumbles in its worldbuilding by the final act, the ambitions behind this doppelganger story offer far more than meets the eye as its examination of violence and the way its conceptualized reveal the source of “true” terror.
Rating9.6/10
Grade A+

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2010s, 2017, Comedy, Grade, Horror, mystery, Review, review-movie, S, Thriller, Year

Film Review: Get Out – 2010

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Director(s)Jordan Peele
Principal CastDaniel Kaluuya as Chris
Allison Williams as Rose Armitage
Bradley Whitford as Dean Armitage
Catherine Keener as Missy Armitage
Caleb Landry Jones as Jeremy Armitage
Lil Rel Howery as Rod
Release Date2017
Language(s)English
Running Time 104 minutes
Report Card Click to go Review TLDR/Summary
Danny (Danny Lloyd) and Wendy (Shelley Duvall) walk in the hedge-made labyrinth.
Andre (Lakeith Stanfield) walks in the suburban labyrinth .
The movie opens on a suburban landscape in one-point perspective with greenery adorning both sides of a walkway in the center, hearkening back to the iconic hedge maze from Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. Given both Wendy and Danny’s eventual fates, we immediately know that Andre is in danger of some external danger. This will soon be confirmed as he’s kidnapped.

We open in a suburban neighborhood sidewalk. The camera tracks forward slowly as a young black man, Andre, (Lakeith Stanfield) walks onto it talking on his cellphone about how the location is disorienting or as he puts it: “a creepy confusing ass suburb.” The mise-en-scène hearkens back to similar shots from Kubrick’s The Shining, namely that of the characters walking through a hedge maze. Like those characters, this labyrinth is not a safe location for inhabitants unfamiliar with it.

Andre realizes that a car is following him and tries to escape it but is caught unaware by an assailant donning a knight’s head of armor. As the latter chokes out the former, we can hear the lyrics to Gay and Butler’s song “Run Rabbit Run”; the happy sounding song warning rabbits to run is jarring in feeling but lyrically contextual, warning us of things to come. His body is unceremoniously dumped into the back of his pursuer’s car as the opening credits play in blue font color. This reference to The Shining, which also uses the same light blue color in its opening sequence text, is made even more explicit in the next cut to a tracking shot of a forest.

Peele doubles down on The Shining references by directly referencing the opening of movie through the use of a similar light blue opening credit font along with a shot of an ominous forest. It’s the aural differences (and similarities) that set the scenes apart as Kubrick’s

While Kubrick’s masterpiece starts on aerial shot of a mountain range and surrounding forest as foreboding droning noises with indigenous chants punctuate the soundscape, setting up the subtext regarding the genocide of the native populations. Peele keeps the view of the encroaching forest but trades the cries of the indigenous, whispery African voices puncture the soundscape and give a warning to be careful of impending danger. [1] Weaver, C., & Peele. (2017, February 3). Jordan Peele on a Real Horror Story: Being Black in America. GQ. https://www.gq.com/story/jordan-peele-get-out-interview. It’s no coincidence that the jovial track warning rabbits is swapped out for an moody and foreboding Swahili song, “Sikiliza Kwa Wahenga ” which similarly warns its recipient of impending danger.

Finally, the movie cuts to a striking black and white photograph, neatly framed against the wall; no longer in the forests, we’ve transported to the inside of a photographer’s apartment. The song changes again to Childish Gambino’s funky ethereal track “Redbone” which warns its audience to stay alert for creepers looking out to get them, the audience, while unaware. We get to see the interior of the apartment before finally getting to see our protagonist, a black photographer Chris (Daniel Kaluuya), getting ready for an outing with Rose (Allison Williams) , his white girlfriend.

We learn that he’s getting ready to meet Rose’s parents, Dean (Bradley Whitford) and Missy (Catherine Keener), for a weekend visit at the latter’s residence. He asks her if they know that he’s black. She says “no,” but assuages his concerns by ensuring him that her parents are super liberal going so far as to mention how her father would vote for “Obama a third time if he could.” It’s the perfect comedy set-up; well-to-do white liberals in their efforts to seem inclusive end up reinforcing racist tropes in comedic fashion. However, everything up till now has primed us to be more suspicious and be on alert. We know being in an unfamiliar neighborhood is dangerous news for black men and we’ve been warned now 3 times to stay vigilant.

The immediate effect of this opening sequence is a persistent vertigo effect that makes every interaction impossible to pin down as our interpretations of what’s happening is constantly being ripped out from under; innocuous moments turn uncomfortable turn horrifying as we along with Chris are forced into questioning every interaction. His reception starts innocent enough, but as his stay continues little moments build up into bizarre microaggressions which transform into horrific realizations culminating in what I can only describe as the horrific ideology of “post-racial”[2]By post-racial I am referring to the idea of a post-racial America where the United States is free from racism and discrimination related to the same. The idea came heavily back into fashion with the … Continue reading equality come to life.

Chris (Daniel Kaluuya) shows both fear and unease perfectly as he cocks his head and intensifies his gaze in regards to Georgina’s odd behaviours.
Georgina (Betty Gabriel) goes “batshit” as she cries and smiles in a disconcerting fashion.
Peele relishes in the ambiguities of his characters by shooting the actors portraying them in beautiful close-ups. By using their faces as canvases during intense moments, Peele gets to drive home ambiguities, heighten tensions, and get you fully invested in where everything is going. It helps that the movie is filled with masterclass performances from the lead in Kaluuya all the way to supporting cast like Gabriel.

This is obviously helped by the fantastic performances of the cast which Peele shows off by filming in close up, letting their faces envelop the entire frame. Moments that are already unnerving become blood chilling as we’re forced to confront faces that seem to give away everything and nothing simultaneously (in particular scenes with Betty Gabriel who plays Georgina) ; every muscular twitch, every pinching at the lip, every shift in the gaze becomes heightened forcing the audience to figure out what is trying to be revealed. While I can’t get into nuances of every actor for fear of spoilers, I can say that the multiple roles that a host of the characters play make it impossible to gauge certain moments for what they are until the end of the movie only for them then to then gain another layer of meaning on subsequent watches.

Chris (Daniel Kaluuya)talks about his evening with Missy with Rod .
Rod (Lil Rel Howery) responds to Chris’s concerns and offers his comedic diagnosis.
Peele intentionally structures the movie’s key revelations around conversations between Chris and his best friend Rod. These scenes give the movie and audience some breathing room while making the larger themes of the movie easier to digest. It helps the movie be coy in moving forward with more nuanced thematic ideas later on.

Obviously the topic of racism (and it’s relevant nuances) is hard to tackle in a way that keeps its target audience [3]One only has to look at the currently “critical race theory” debate breaking out right now – … Continue reading, people who have drank the “post-racial” Kool-Aid, in their seats while also seriously reckoning with the issue. Peele solves this at a structural level with the introduction of Chris’s best friend, Rod (Lil Rel Howery), who calls in at various points of the movie and offers comedic takes on the situation. It’s not that what he’s saying is incorrect or off base; Rod is actually correct in his own ways about most of what he says if you want to connect the dots. It’s that Howery’s delivery of certain “assessments” helps ease discussion of more serious topics in a more accessible and less severe manner. On top of giving the audience time to catch their breath and compose their thoughts, the technique allows certain thematic ideas to be cemented in a more innocuous way allowing their more developed forms to more easily take root; simple anti-black racism turns into a discussion on the harms of post-racial ideology which turns into a meditation on the importance of black art as a survival strategy.

This is why the horror movie of an interracial couple meeting white parents features the black boyfriend of the couple being a renowned photographer known for his unique “eye”. Peele has explicitly come out and said “Black creators have not been given a platform, and the African-American experience can only be dealt with by an African-American.” Therefore, it is imperative that Chris’s is a black artist He can “see” the best shots. However, this sight is not limited to just art but also to the way the levers of power operate around him. From his first comment to his girlfriend, we know he’s aware of racial dynamics; springing a black boyfriend to a white family that’s only known white boyfriends might go poorly. This is an example of what W.E.B. Dubois called “double consciousness”, where a minority party identifies themselves according to a trait which they know is being surveilled – black flesh- and have thus internalized judgements associated with the same. [4]Scott, J., Franklin, A. T., & Higgins, K. (2006). Chapter 3: Double Consciousness and Second Sight . In Critical affinities: Nietzsche and African American thought. essay, State University of New … Continue reading Chris knows what could happen because he can predict what a white set of parents might think of him because he’s been conditioned by similar treatment from an early age. This vantage point is traumatic but can be transformed into a spiritual “second sight” through an understanding that the debilitating judgements one is casting on oneself are a result of a problematic world; in the case of Chris, this sight has literally manifested in artistic vision. [5]Ibid.

Because the horror is related to the ideological nature of racism and Chris has the ability to detect the “lines” of that ideology, he naturally makes intelligent decisions that we can get behind. We get behind him because it feels like he knows what he’s doing. That’s why when things get flipped on their heads, we realize that we’ve been caught as well – unaware of the true depths of the horror we’ve been led into. The manifestation of this horror in relation to Chris (and his photography) then brings the themes of the movie to full circle, forcing us to reckon with the value of black art, not just as a vision but as a way of survival in society that seeks to erase black subjectivity.

For a genre whose most famous connection to black characters is in its notoriety in killing them first, it’s a breath of fresh air to have a movie in which the black character is intelligent, artistic, and the protagonist. Far from running away from the genre (I’d argue the deference to The Shining shows an immense respect for the genre), Peele runs towards it with open arms in an attempt to use horror to examine racial dynamics in a way previously unexplored. Never once is tension or suspense traded for the sake of a theme and never once is a theme left unexplored in favor of pushing out a new scare. Instead, every element works in tandem to deliver a though provoking thrill ride that will force you to question the nature of status quo ace relations.

REPORT CARD

TLDRGet Out is a horror classic in the making, demonstrating that the genre has more than enough in its wheelhouse to tell captivating stories about issues as nuanced as the terrors of post-racial ideology. It’s a movie that stays committed to both scaring and teaching, never foregoing entertainment for nuance or vice versa. With a healthy number of The Shining references, the evocative soundtrack spanning musical genres, dark comedy built into the structure of the narrative, and a protagonist who you can’t help supporting, it’s hard to find a reason not to recommend the movie to someone.
Rating10/10
Grade S

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
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