Film Review: Jordan Peele delivers horror masterpiece with 'Us'

How do you follow up a masterpiece? That’s the challenge facing writer-director Jordan Peele, whose debut film Get Out not only broke records for its Oscar nominations and box office returns, but was instantly heralded as the beginning of a new wave of genre films: the social horror. Peele’s ability to combine known horror tropes with inventive flourishes, social commentary, humour, and incredible performances rightly marked him as a director with a lot to say, and the skills to say it well.

But one of the notable features of Peele’s sophomore effort is that he refuses to say everything. Though Get Out was intellectually and thematically layered, with deeper meanings and clever symbolism unfurling upon repeated viewing, it wasn’t overly complicated. The main message was loud and clear. In Us, there is ambiguity and unanswered questions; it is deliberately constructed to force dissection and conversation, and those conversations will likely hold a mirror up to the best, worst and most ignorant parts of ourselves. Which is exactly what Us is about.

As anyone who has already been terrified by the trailer knows, Us involves a family – laid-back Gabe (Winston Duke), anxious Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o), whip-smart Zora (Shahadi Wright Joseph) and introverted Jason (Evan Alex.) During a vacation to Santa Cruz, their summer home is invaded by a family of eerie dopplegangers, all brandishing scissors, disjointed movements and terrifying dead-eyed smiles. Only Adelaide’s doppelganger speaks; the rest communicate in animalistic growls and sinister gestures. They are clearly violent and dangerous, but their motives are unclear. Where did they come from, and what do they want?

Peele answers some of these questions, and leaves others ambiguous – but you may have to wait until the film is over to dissect the details, because Peele’s direction is an onslaught of terrifying imagery, plot twists, and one of the most nerve-jangling horror scores in recent memory. Perhaps a deliberate response to complaints that Get Out wasn’t scary enough, here Peele imbues every frame with a sense of menace. Cinematographer Mike Gioulakis’ work here is remarkable, as he twists light and colour to imbue traditionally cheery settings with a sense of dread. Sunlit beaches become glaring, and filled with long-cast shadows. Neon carnivals become nightmarish kaleidoscopes. Fluorescent lighting evokes the coldness of a clinical laboratory in a mysterious, rabbit-filled space. And as always, things hide in the dark. Monsters. Ourselves. Embracing and elevating horror conventions far more explicitly than Get Out, Us is a visceral, heart-pounding experience that needs to be surrendered to.

The lead performances are frankly remarkable in capturing the duality of each character – their vulnerability and our monstrosity. Nyong’o in particular is Oscar-worthy here, bringing a fragility and determination to Adelaide, and an unforgettable and utterly original performance as Adelaid’s doppleganger, Red; a jerky, freakish funhouse reflection of a matriarch. Red is powerful in her brokenness, in control of her unhingedness. Nyong’o’s small, rapid body movements and even her laboured, raspy voice are designed to portray Red as a being from a different type of existence than our own.

One of the potential drawbacks to Peele’s reputation as a detail-focused, intellectual director is that you could become so focused on figuring out the details and messages hidden in Peele’s screenplay that you don’t allow the feeling of horror to wash over. Do yourself a favour and just commit to a second viewing, so you can be terrified in one viewing and analytical the next – because yes, there is much to unpack. Peele is tackling personal and intergenerational trauma, fear, America’s increasing demonising of “The Other”, privilege, entitlement and identity. The film explores our connection to other people and our understanding of ourselves.

Compared to Get Out, Us isn’t quite as narratively tight; the final act in particular occasionally feels a slightly hurried attempt to, if not tie all the sperate threads together, at least make sure you know they exist, so you can do the work of untangling them after the credits end.

But Peele’s image as a new auteur is firmly intact here. Our image ourselves may be left slightly shakier.

4.5/5