The urge to compare Jordan Peele’s sophomore effort Us to his debut film (2017’s Get Out) is a natural one, but the old “apples and oranges” analogy should be applied. Both may fall under the horror banner, but mood, atmosphere, and scope vary wildly. Where Get Out is a pointed attack, Us is more challenging. Its message is less refined, forcing us to work harder at discerning meaning. What’s great about a film like Us is that this lack of clear and concise messaging allows each viewer to identify their own thematic interpretations. Is Us a tale of working and marginalized classes revolting against corporate and social orders? You tell me. Is it about the American people’s insistence on wearing blinders to shield us from the horrors we allow our government to create? Maybe. I know what I took from Us – what will you take?
With this mind, I couldn’t help but think of films like Hiroshi Teshigahara’s 1964 classic Woman in the Dunes, in which a viewer’s own personal history with the horrors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki might play a role in unraveling what that film “means.” Is Peele giving us clues with a Kubrick homage near the film’s opening and its evolution into what could be considered George Romero territory? Maybe, but then again, maybe not. Is the appearance of a Black Flag “My War” t-shirt in the film’s intro a big red, blinking arrow pointing the way to meaning? If you’re anything like me, it sure as hell is. The point is that it’s possible for each of us to bring our own stories into a film like Us and draw our own conclusions based on those experiences – and I urge you to do so. If you find yourself leaving the theater with the urge to scratch your head wondering, “What does it all mean?” you’re certainly not alone. But, don’t let the “more questions than answers” nature of the narrative spoil the fun and the importance of Us.
Crazy theories aside, Us is a highly entertaining piece of horror from top to bottom. It manages to defy several expectations while remaining grounded in many of the genre’s better tropes. Granted, it may not be quite as scary as the trailer leads on, but it jumps are better and more deserved than your average popcorn horror film. Convention is used in non-conventional ways, which allows for new ideas and innovations to grow within both a well-worn genre and an out of touch industry. Peele’s intelligence and respect for his predecessors is too great for anything less.
Each performance is wonderful (with each actor in a double role), but it’s Lupita Nyong’o as Adelaide and Red who steals the show from the start. The contrast between these two very different characters is held together with plenty of charm and sympathy from Nyong’o, who subtly manages to be more terrifying than Hannibal Lecter or any other male movie psycho. Author Tananarive Due calls Peele’s choice to cast a horror film with a black family at its center a “quiet revolution.” This simple casting decision may not be as overt a statement as Get Out’s clear admonition of racism and liberal hypocrisy, but it’s catching plenty of internet ire nonetheless. This usually means comfortable and privileged norms are being encroached upon – too bad, so sad.
I gave Get Out 3½ stars when it was released in 2017. After subsequent viewings and considering Peele’s growing output, I’d up that to four stars in retrospect. These are different films, but they live in the same political universe, even if it doesn’t look that way outwardly. Get Out tells you clearly what it’s about while Us want you to define it. It wants you to talk about it to your neighbors, co-workers, and family.
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.