Us (2019)

The year is 2019, and it's been but a scant few years since Jordan Peele made his directorial debut and reminded people of just what was possible in a horror context when the people involved actually cared. Get Out was rightfully hailed as a modern classic the instant it was released, one which elevated the already-beloved character actor and comedy writer Peele to a figure that could stand toe-to-toe with the Hitchcocks, Spielbergs, and Carpenters of the world. For film lovers and cinemaniacs everywhere, they had found a kindred spirit in Peele, a classist in the world of filmmaking and one who could seemingly do no wrong.

So yeah, here we are three years later and Peele releases yet another horror film, rich with allegorical meaning and latent thematic content, and it honestly couldn’t be more unlike Get Out. Yes, Us is more akin to some kind of nightmarish fairy tale scenario, where logic is thrown out the window not just because of subtext, but also because it can be particularly scary if done right. Peele takes his young memories of the eighties and uses them to create something that is utterly unlike anything else out there, and something that will probably confuse most modern audiences with its wildly fluctuating tone and questionable plotting, but hey: enough foreshadowing, let’s get into my actual thoughts on this, one of the strangest mainstream horror films to be released in some time.

How the other half lives

In the cozy suburbia of Santa Cruz, California, poor Adelaide Wilson just isn’t having a great time of things. On the surface, she has everything anyone could ever want: a loving husband and two kids, a lavish home complete with equally-lavish beach home for the summer months, and all the things that come with it. Vehicles, phones, televisions, pools, you name it. Despite this, something deep down has been bothering Adelaide for a while now. Some kind of traumatic memory from her childhood continues to gnaw at her imagination, and a number of ominous events lead her to believe that some kind of apocalyptic disaster is fast approaching to lay waste to the manicured life that she and her husband have worked so hard to have for their children. When she tries to explain to her husband, he’s polite but obviously more than a little concerned for her mental well-being, and she has no definitive idea of what’s coming anyway. Just a hunch, an inkling… However, her worst fears come to life before her very eyes when, later that night, a group of four strangers arrive at her doorstep, the spitting image of her and her family, and demand to be let in.

So as I mentioned earlier, this is more of a Lynchian nightmare scenario, written in the style of an old fairy tale where you just have to take their word for it that some ridiculous thing is occurring, because otherwise there’d be no story. The mechanics of this film’s take on the classic doppelganger story is nowhere near as frightening to me personally as, say, The Twilight Zone’s take on it with “Mirror Image,” but it’s used here in a decidedly more allegorical way, where a doppelganger exists for every person in America, only to one day surface and try to take back what they feel ought to be theirs. That idea of people living unhappy yet decadent lives, is something that the beginning of the film perfectly captures. And besides, Us is a story that draws horrific inspiration from the guilt that success can bring, where you wonder about all those other people that didn’t make it and how they must hate your guts. 

*spoiler alert*

And then there’s the twist, which further develops this idea via the concept of Adelaide, the great betrayer, who, at the first opportunity, broke away and did nothing to help them from her position of privilege, even attempting to bury the memories of her questionable deed. And when the time comes, she and her family brutally slaughter their 'tethered' and just move on, choosing to bury the truth deep, the same way Adelaide did originally when she kidnapped and replaced the original Adelaide. It’s implied that the family senses that they’ve done something horrible, or maybe they’re just unhappy that the film ends with most everyone else on planet Earth either dead or dying. Who's to say?

*end of spoilers*

So this is a film that is undoubtedly about class conflict (only literally,) but told more from the perspective of those on the upper crust, who sleep in soft beds never imagining that the homeless revolution could ever take place, which makes sense coming from Peele but does lead to some problems.

Primarily, the big issue is that no one is entirely likable early on. I guess Winston Duke’s Gabe is pretty well-rounded and likable, and the Wilson kids are alright (if bratty,) but Adelaide acts like a paranoid crazy person, giving emotional talks with her back turned and “politely” interrupting her neighbor to tell her basically to shut up (she has trouble “just talking,” you see…) none of which really endear her to the audience, and the Tyler family which the Wilsons interact with are depicted rather broadly. Sure, there’s an excuse for Adelaide’s clearly worrisome behavior, but what about the rest of the characters? How does that excuse hold up for the air-headed twin Tylers, or even Tim Heidecker’s lazy dickhead character? 

Its own worst enemy

You can probably excuse it as ‘satire’ and an attempt to continue in the same horror/dark comedy blend that Get Out pulled off so well, but I think it only suffers by the comparison. This is because the humor just isn’t properly balanced with the horror like before, meaning there are a great many shining moments of one or the other, but they end up being implemented in questionable ways and getting in the way of each other. Take for example the infamous slaughter that takes place at the Tylers’ place, where pitch-black comedy is balanced against shocking violence and cruelty, with a pinch of iconoclasm to go with. This sequence, on its own, is great, but once we see our main characters get involved in this situation, everything just falls apart and suddenly, we find ourselves watching a total farce. First, we get a bunch of children gleefully killing attackers with a variety of creative implements, a bit of a lurch in any film that wants me to take it seriously and the moment where the comedy officially becomes distracting and offputting. Then, we get the reveal that Elizabeth Moss’s doppelgangers apparently kidnapped Adelaide and didn’t harm her despite everything we’ve seen so far, which takes the already obvious plot armor that the main characters had on to new extremes. How can I ever be truly afraid of a horror film where it becomes painfully clear early on that our main characters are in no danger whatsoever?

Speaking of which, we might as well dive into that accusation. Now, I know excuses can be made for why our main group of four are so often sparred: the one I see the most is that the Tethered can only kill their designated Tethered, though this is defied on at a few occasions to such a degree where I consider it to be a totally unconvincing theory. Then there’s the spoilery reason, which I frankly still don’t buy. Even if Adelaide is herself special and we can truly buy that all of the Tethered would automatically recognize her on sight, what about her kids? Would they really all recognize them on sight as well? But okay, I’ll accept all of that. Other Tethered don’t want to kill the wrong Tethered (most of the time) especially if they’re important like Adelaide and her family, but how does that explain why Adelaide's own family of doppelgangers doesn't harm them either? Oh sure, they try a few times early on, but each time they’re trumped handily by a bunch of sheltered rich people who can’t get along to save their lives, yet end up apparently bonding over the shared blood on their hands. And that’s just in the first thirty minutes. The Tethered's arrival is nothing but them simply playing games with the family, creating a situation where the family can get the upper hand and escape, while down the street a-ways a similar family of sheltered rich people is murdered abruptly and gorily in front of us and it's played for laughs. This is just a bad idea, one way or the other, as it diminishes the villains and proves that the film will not harm our characters until their big confrontation is nigh, robbing it of any tension it might have had otherwise. And yes, I know the film might have some legitimate reasons to call into question the nature of the villain, but after everything that's led up to the climax, it's hard to determine if her diminished nature is truly intentional or an accidental byproduct of Peele's spotty storytelling.

"It's us."

And I also find it odd that a film that often has its inconsistencies so often excused with the whole ‘dreamlike/Lynchian/nightmarish’ thing (me included,) keeps going out of its way to justify its premise and make everything feel ‘real.’ The sense of time and place in the opening segments is fine, but things like that news segment that depicts an anchor being murdered by his doppelganger, a late monologue that explains that the Tethered were created by the government to control the population, and even the opening card that helpfully informs us that all sorts of abandoned tunnels actually exist under America just feel weirdly out of place. 

I also really, really hate the voice that Lupita Nyong’o uses for her performance as Adelaide’s doppelganger. I don’t care what her inspiration was, how much training she received, or how much she prepared for the part: it sounds silly and makes an otherwise serious scene seem absurd. It’s one of the more tragic missteps of the film, as it mars multiple important monologues… Actually, now that I think about it, why did Peele give this character all of the film’s monologues? Oh god, and don’t get me started on all the references to other films. "Tell me you did not just reference Home Alone!" says one character. Jordan, my man, haven't you ever been told before: never explain the joke!

But don’t get me wrong: I appreciate that Peele really went for it here and tried something different, even if it happened to not really work for me the way that Get Out does. In some ways, I almost like this one more for all the weird crap in it and its lovable sprawl, but it seems entirely unable to handle any of it. I’m left feeling cold, but only because of the script, which I just don’t care for. The filmmaking, on the other hand, is undeniably strong, with the visuals doing most of the heavy lifting in realizing this vision of the ghosts of the eighties coming back to take their rightful place by any means necessary. The costuming, cinematography, pacing (the invasion only occurs forty minutes into the film,) and of course, scoring are all doing their best to sell this material, ditto the incredible performances by a variety of great performers. All of which makes it a little tough to settle on viewing this film as little more than an enjoyable, yet flawed experiment from one of horror’s strongest and most unique voices, but for me, that’s all it’ll ever be. Stay tuned for my analysis of Nope.