Nope

Director: Jordan Peele
Starring: Daniel Kaluuya, Keke Palmer, Steven Yeun, Brandon Perea, Michael Wincott, Wrennn Schmidt, Keith David, Devon Graye, Jacob Kim, Terry Notary, Barbie Ferreira, Donna Mills, Osgood Perkins, Sofia Coto, Andrew Patrick Ralston, Jennifer Lafleur
Running Time: 130 min.
Rating: R 

**The following review contains major plot spoilers for 'Nope'**

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)  

With two successful big screen outings behind him, writer/director Jordan Peele takes his wildest, most ambitious swing yet with Nope, again daring audiences to look beneath the surface to extrapolate all of his film's possible meanings and intentions. Whether this results in Peele's most assured effort is another matter, as audiences pounded their heads against the wall trying to make sense out of what initially looked to be his most straightforward, mainstream project yet. But what apparently starts as a mysterious alien invasion story soon careens out of control in thrilling and maddening ways, creating a pull that's incredibly difficult to dismiss. 

Visually and thematically, Peele continues to prove he's a level above in displaying a mastery of Twilight Zone-inspired sci-fi moral and social commentary. The bigger question might revolve around how much viewers are willing to put up with to get answers and explanations that could justifiably lead to deeper inquiries at the end. He's definitely not spoon feeding anyone and you get the impression that if this was a little tighter and more accessible, it may not have been nearly as interesting.

Containing the most disturbingly brilliant scene Peele's delivered in his career, it's the rabbit symbolism from Us on overdrive, and even while the storyline completely reflects the movie's themes of greed, spectacle and exploitation, it's hard not to think that if the entire film was solely about this specific incident, no other picture this year could touch it. Then again, it is kind of just about that, as Peele mashes pop culture, biographical history and cinematic references together in divergent but related ways that create a one-of-a-kind experience.

Otis Haywood Sr. (Keith David) owns and operates Haywood's Hollywood Horses Ranch in Agua Dulce, California, training and handling horses for film and TV productions. But when he's killed by a nickel that inexplicably falls from the sky, son OJ (Daniel Kaluuya) and daughter Em (Keke Palmer) inherit the ranch, attempting to keep the business going. Agreeing on little, OJ's quietly dedicated to upholding his late father's legacy while the more outgoing Em seems more interested in chasing her big Hollywood break. That comes to a halt when an on set incident involving one of their horses, Lucky, leads to the Haywoods being fired from a commercial with renowned cinematographer Antlers Holst (Michael Wincott). 

With the ranch in financial peril, OJ sells some of his horses to former child star Ricky "Jupe" Park (Steven Yeun), who runs Jupiter's Claim, a Western theme park dedicated to exploiting a violent event that took place on the set of his 90's sitcom. While contemplating his interest in buying the ranch, the Haywoods discover what looks to be a UFO in the sky causing the horses to panic and suddenly vanish. Suspecting this object spitting debris could be tied to their father's death and chasing a payday, they enlist the help of Fry's Electronics store employee Angel (Brandon Perea) to visually document the evidence. Unfortunately, they're about to go head to head with a force they've greatly underestimated.

Opening with a thought-provoking bible quote about the spectacle of exploitative filth, we're given a brief flashback glimpse of a blood-soaked chimp before meeting the Haywood family. Whatever anyone's opinion of the eventual payoff, it's tough to recall a recent sci-fi film that establishes itself as quickly, introducing all the characters, setting off an inciting incident and laying all the groundwork for what evolves into a real head-scratching mystery. Add to that a Hollywood horse wrangler isn't exactly the kind of job we're used to seeing on screen and you have an intriguingly different hook right off the bat. So while trailers and commercials heavily hinted we'd be getting an alien invasion along the lines of M. Night Shyamalan's Signs (not a terribly far-off comparison), Peele's clearly planning something different. 

The flying saucer itself looks very much like every incarnation of a UFO we've seen in various media, with a key distinction being that the ship actually is the alien, a creature nicknamed "Jean Jacket" that devours anything or anyone that looks directly at it.  The opening chimp prologue and OJ and Em's speech to the TV commercial crew about their forgotten ancestor from motion pictures' earliest history plant the seeds for the film's most prominent running theme. And that becomes even clearer when the Haywoods visit Jupe's money-making shrine to the most tragic chapter of his child acting career.

There's a reason we get Jupe's take on this deadly chimpanzee attack that occurred on the set of his Full House-like sitcom, Gordy's Home!, before actually seeing it. His account has been filtered and warped through a combination of likely PTSD, media hype and a fundamental misunderstanding of what actually happened and why. Steven Yeun's only in a handful of scenes, but he's brilliant in them, with Jupe talking of the massacre without ever truly speaking on it, always deflecting to the public's morbid fascination with it. Rather than address the fear he felt while helplessly watching Gordy maul his TV family, he's more interested in telling the Haywoods about the SNL skit it inspired (clever mention of Chris Kattaan playing Gordy) or showing off the framed MAD Magazine spoof hanging in his museum office adorned with props from the series. 

When we're shown the attack, it exceeds all horrific expectations and provides even more disturbing context for Jupe's earlier comments. Ruth De Jong's production design ensures every detail in the scene looks and feels authentic enough to believe it's actually unfolding in front of our eyes. And if it feels like a true story, that's because it is. Or it's more than partially inspired by the fascinating case of an acting chimp named Travis (who appeared in several commercials and shows) who mauled his owner's friend and employee, Charla Nash in Stamford, Connecticut in 2009, leading to her requiring face transplant surgery. 

The Travis story might be one of the more overlooked, underreported news stories of the past couple of decades in terms of the legal and moral implications surrounding how we co-exist with and treat animals. There's so much to get into maybe it isn't surprising a feature film, series, or documentary hasn't tackled the event until now. Doing so without truly examining what it all means would seem exploitative, which is exactly the point Peele seems to be making. 

Much like Travis, Gordy was milked for profit in the entertainment industry with little thought given to his safety or those around him. In both instances, the result was a wildly unpredictable animal being placed in an environment he couldn't possibly handle, endangering everyone through no fault of his own.  It also calls back to the commercial scene with the Haywoods and Lucky in reminding us that an animal can snap at any time and how ignoring that possibility leads to disaster. It's the popping of a balloon sets Gordy off, but young Jupe (a great Jacob Kim) isn't spared during this rampage because of fate, luck or because he's some kind of chimp whisperer. There were concrete reasons, and it could have easily gone either way. 

What helps save Jupe's life is the impossibly placed shoe of his mauled co-star that causes his stare to divert from Gordy (a "bad miracle") and and their recognizably shared fist-bump from the show. But Jupe's inability to process this trauma leads to his hubris as an adult as he further exploits Gordy long after his death with this theme park attraction. And just to hammer that idea home, Jupe even invites his former TV sister, Mary Jo (Sophia Coto) to watch "The Star Lasso Experience" from the stands, sitting with a veil covering her disfigured face while wearing a pre-tragedy photo shirt of herself.

Given the opportunity to exploit another creature for profit in Jean Jacket, Jupe doesn't hesitate because he's got this, even as the UFO dines on horses at the Haywood ranch while setting its sights squarely on Jupiter's Claim. But this time Jupe's quest to stage a spectacle in the name of the almighty dollar backfires, as he and the spectators pay with their lives. What's great about Yeun's performance is how he plays the character without a shred of self-awareness, less as a money-grubbing carnival barker than that same scared kid hiding under the table attempting to still come to terms with the worst moment of his life. Only he can't since he was never shown how. He's just another casualty of the Hollywood machine, used up and spit out after his career reached its expiration date.

Part of OJ and Em's initial motivations for exposing Jean Jacket are monetary while cryptic, obsessive cinematographer Holst, with hand-cranked camera in hand, is lured by the temptation of capturing his own "impossible shot." Nearly all of this recalls the chimp incident, right down to an avoidance of eye contact and the creepily unwelcome media presence that descends upon the area sniffing a potential massacre. Kaluuya and a never better Palmer are great as bickering siblings, making OJ and Em complicated, but sympathetic characters whose actions very much need to be viewed through the lens of having to come to grips with an inexplicable loss and a now financially uncertain future. But they too poke the bear and find out. 

Brandon Perea's Angel is the simplest of the lead trio, but also the least tainted, as he has little on his agenda other than having fun and confirming his own wacky theories, which strangely works. Peele subverts expectations by having him become about ten times more involved than his comedic introduction would indicate. Perea's geeky oddball invisibly grow on you and once the final act arrived, we're just as invested in his fate as that of the Haywoods. 

Separated into five chapters, Peele builds the entire plot is on a foundation of thematic subtext and bread crumbs that require a lot of lifting from its audience. And when talking spectacle, the ending definitely is one, a Spielbergian throwback that could count Close Encounters and Jaws as obvious influences. Comparisons to the latter are especially apt, with a neat reversal that sees the threat coming from above rather than below. Nope earns its spot on a triple feature bill with Get Out and Us, even as many would argue it's the sloppiest of the three. But yet that somehow helps in making it the most fun, and ripe for endless analysis. 

Peele's perceived role as director, social commentator and pop culture purveyor casts a shadow that really looms large here, more for better than worse. It's kind of remarkable what he does with material that could have easily been a standard genre exercise, even when overstuffed with enough metaphors and symbolism to fill a cinematic syllabus. Worthy of repeated viewings and ongoing theories, Nope isn't easy to forget, ensuring it'll probably be argued about for a while to come.                               

Us

Director: Jordan Peele
Starring: Lupita Nyong'o, Winston Duke, Elisabeth Moss, Tim Heidecker, Shahadi Wright Joseph, Madison Curry, Evan Alex, Ashley McKoy 
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Fittingly, Jordan Peele's Us begins with a prologue centered around one of the most frightening experiences that can happen when you're a child: Getting lost. Whether it's ten minutes or two hours, there's s very real sense of helplessness as a series of worst case scenarios start racing through the mind. Peele must be the first filmmaker to shoot a sequence like this with a clear understanding of those stakes and ability to fully convey them to the audience. We literally feel how petrified, yet strangely curious and excited this little girl is about the unfamiliar surroundings she finds herself in, and the uncertainty of whether she'll ever get back. It isn't until later that we realize the magnitude of this event and its far-reaching consequences, but not only for her. And with all the clues waiting to be deciphered and play out in the film's remaining length, Peele answers the question of whether he's capable of following up Get Out by delivering an effort that somehow feels even more ambitious and thought-provoking.

As the latest to affix his name to a Twilight Zone reboot, it may seem easier than ever for some to level the criticism, that as writer and director, Peele's "merely" churning out modern feature length versions of those episodes. But as anyone who's actually seen the original series could attest, that's a pretty high compliment. Layering his story with scathing social commentary sure to draw Get Out comparisons, this plays more subtly, requiring some work from its audience, and possibly multiple viewings, to fully absorb all of its ideas.

You could probably compose a solid list of Peele's influences here, ranging from The Shining to The Strangers to Funny Games to Black Swan, even as this creation seems to bare very little resemblance to any of them, at least narratively. But more importantly, it's scary. In fact, it's the first horror film in a long while that earns that label, taking a classic doppelgänger premise and flipping it on its head, subverting expectations in ways that likely would have earned the approval of Rod Serling himself. 

It's 1986 when young Adelaide Thomas (a revelatory Madison Curry) goes with her parents on vacation to Santa Cruz, but with her father distracted, she wanders off alone at night on the boardwalk before arriving at a desolate fun house on the beach. In it, she's confronted with a hall of mirrors and a double of herself who most definitely isn't a reflection. Eventually found by her parents, Adelaide is left traumatized by the encounter, unable to speak and possibly facing years of therapy sessions due to whatever may have occurred in those fifteen minutes.

Flash forward to present-day California and Adelaide (Lupita Nyong'o) is seemingly recovered, but reluctant to go to the family's Santa Cruz lake house with husband Gabe Wilson (Winston Duke) and their two kids, Zora (Shahadi Wright Joseph) and Jason (Evan Alex). But fear and trepidation really kicks in when they all head to the beach to meet up with their wealthy friends the Tylers, Josh (Tim Heidecker) and Kitty (Elisabeth Moss).

Shaken by their beach outing, Adelaide returns to the house with her family, only to soon discover mysterious, threatening visitors standing in their driveway staring them down. A closer look reveals the shadowed foursome in red to be their physical counterparts despite acting, speaking and even looking differently from them. They're evil, but what they want and why they're here now is anyone's guess, as is their relationship to the event that shook Adelaide to her core as a small child. It's immediately clear the Wilsons will have to fight for their lives against intruders who believe everything is theirs for the taking. 

The idea that if there's an "us" there has to be a "them" is the foundation on which Peele's story is built. Wherever there are "haves," there are also"have nots," and sometimes the reasons as to how people find themselves in those positions boil down to pure chance and circumstance. Or do they? Life may not be fair, but the questions presented end up having more to do with whether it's truly the luck of the draw or society's collective ignorance causing that, or possibly a combination of both. Revealing any more would risk spoiling the surprises Peele's cooked up, or the tremendous technical expertise with which he delivers them, in the process creating an unmistakable sense of time, mood and atmosphere.

Opening in a 1986 Peele doesn't feel the need to advertise with posters, hit songs or crazy wardrobe choices because he's more interested in replicating a feeling and memory of that era, a commercial for the failed and mostly forgotten "Hands Across America" campaign against hunger airs on a retro TV set. We know it means something because it all does, including and a creepy title sequence featuring a myriad of rabbits, the first pieces of a puzzle that will slowly come together by film's end.

The present-day home invasion scenes are the closest the movie comes to traditional horror, with Peele milking a moment or scene to find as much fear in the tension of what will happen than what eventually does. Prior to this, the idea of of actors playing two different versions of their characters in a scene would be considered a stunt or digital distraction, but it's pulled off so seamlessly here that the idea of that isn't even given a second thought when they appear.

Taking full advantage of playing what amounts to twisted mirror versions of their characters, it's the award-worthy Nyong'o as "Red" who makes the strongest impression, employing a deep, demonic voice that any other actress probably couldn't pull off without invoking giggles. But it's as Adelaide that she does most of the film's heavy lifting in conveying the emotional trauma that still very much haunts her, as well as the fight and determination that kicks in when it comes time to protect her family from this inexplicable outside force with motives well beyond their complete comprehension.

Playing characters both physically threatening and psychologically unhinged, Winston Duke, Shahadi Wright Joseph and Evan Alex each bring something entirely different to the table as their evil counterparts, with personaities and ticks that hint at a shared history, and the anger at being denied a better life, perhaps through no fault of their own. Despite more limited screen time, Elisabeth Moss and Tim Heidecker's work as Adelaide's snotty friends cuts to the bone of the film's themes, as an extended invasion sequence carrying echoes of A Clockwork Orange puts those characters' purposes front and center, exposing their ugliness in all its hideous and hilarious glory. Moss is particularly creepy throughout, but if ever there's an overlooked contributor, it's composer Michael Abels, whose eerie, hypnotizing score couldn't possibly provide a better backdrop or scene companion for the unfolding atrocity.

Following that centerpiece sequence, the film's focus shifts toward grappling with the larger issues, as Peele places himself in the unenviable position of having to pull back the curtain and deliver a dreaded exposition dump. And it's just about as satisfying a one as you'll see, begging for further analysis and repeated viewings. At some point, there needs to be an explanation, even if it leads to more questions. But the really big ones need answering. Who are they? Why are they here? How did it start?

Most filmmakers would buckle under the weight of having to connect the dots and deliver on the highest of expectations. Instead, Peele doubles down with a shocking reveal that urges viewers to rethink everything that came before. Not in terms of plot, but ideas and philosophy.  It isn't the clean conclusion viewers think they want, but it is a justifiably complicated one, beautifully showing more than it could ever tell. With Us, Peele proves himself much more than a one-hit wonder, forcing us to reasses our own allegiances as we stare directly into the face of humanity's ills.

Get Out

Director: Jordan Peele
Starring: Daniel Kaluuya, Allison Williams, Bradley Whitford, Catherine Keener, Caleb Landry Jones, Lil Rel Howery, Betty Gabriel, Marcus Henderson, LaKeith Stanfield, Stephen Root
Running Time: 103 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The scariest, most frighteningly realistic part of Jordan Peele's Get Out comes early, uncomfortably zeroing in on certain stupid things that certain white people say to black people in conversations to "prove" they're not racist. With every little action and comment you squirm since their obliviousness knows no bounds, terminally unaware of how ridiculous and ignorant they sound. Some of them are probably your friends, co-workers, teachers, neighbors or family members. And on occasion, I'm willing to bet those offenders have even included you and I. It would probably be insulting to suggest that the first sixty minutes of this horror thriller places anyone in the shoes of a black man being judged by the friends and family of his white girlfriend, but it does sure give us an eye-opening idea of what he'd have to put up with. That so much of this is subtle, even subliminal, to someone not consciously looking, is possibly its most unsettling aspect.

While making no mistake about the fact that Get Out is first and foremost a damning social commentary on racial tensions in America, what's been somewhat lost in the conversation is how slyly and expertly the comedian Peele (making his directorial debut) plays that hand. That is until he doesn't have to anymore, and audiences' worst fears, heavily hinted at from the very first frame, eventually come to fruition. Even with plenty of clues where this is going, it's still kind of jaw-dropping just how far Peele's willing to take this, to the point that you wonder how a project this socially, racially and politically charged even got the go-ahead.  You could quibble about where the plot eventually ends up, but good luck finding fault in how it arrives there, building genuine terror and suspense the entire way through. "Originality" isn't a word thrown around too often these days and while there are a few familiar genre elements at play, that definitely applies here.

When black photographer Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya) takes a trip with his white girlfriend, Rose Armitage (Allison Williams) to meet her parents for the first time, she confides in him that she hasn't revealed to them his race and doubts it will be an issue. Described by Rose as open and accepting people, neurosurgeon Dean (Bradley Whitford) and psychiatrist Missy (Catherine Keener) warmly welcome Chris into their home and, almost right off the bat, something seems off. Whether it be Dean's overly enthusiastic boasting of having wanted Obama elected to a third term, his defensive explanation of why all the hired help is black, or Missy's insistence on hypnotizing Chris, it appears any concerns of not fitting in might be the least of his problems.

It only gets stranger from there, with an uncomfortable encounter with Rose's drunk, unstable brother, Jeremy (Caleb Landry Jones), offensive interrogations from party guests, and the black live-in housekeeper Georgina (a brilliantly creepy Betty Gabriel) and groundskeeper Walter (Marcus Henderson) behaving like zombies. Confiding his suspicions by phone to best friend and TSA agent, Rod (Lil Rel Howery), Chris realizes he's walked into something very bad, and while he wants to stay to support Rose, common sense tells him he can't get out soon enough, as what starts as Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? very quickly devolves into Guess Who's Coming to Hell?

It may not be completely apparent until the final credits just how carefully the story is set up, playing on real-life anxieties and prejudices to draw the viewer in, as for much of its running length, the people and situations Chris encounters at the Armitage house are not only steeped heavily in realism, but painfully uncomfortable to watch. It's a key component that all these interactions, as disturbingly strange as they are, aren't so outright hostile that even he initially chalks it up to paranoia or nerves. It's easy to imagine an alternate director's cut of all these scenes that heavily emphasize that since Peele's ability to let audience's see through the protagonist's eyes at the true extent of this ignorant behavior is one of his script's greatest strengths. It's at work through every interaction at that house, whether it be a houseguest trying to chat Chris up about Tiger Woods or Rose's brother's obsession with his athletic abilities, even challenging him to a fight in one of many cringe-worthy dinner table moments.

Through much of this, Chris is about as good and patient a sport as anyone could be under some pretty degrading circumstances, and little known English actor Daniel Kaluuya skillfully walks a really tight rope, trying to remain calm in the midst of deplorable treatment masking itself as mildly disingenuous hospitality. It slowly gets to him, attempting to put on a solid front for Rose, played by Allison Williams as essentially the ideal girlfriend, even as the relationship eventually carries with it this unspoken racist implication that he'd be an idiot to screw it up, almost as if he should consider himself "'lucky" to land someone like her. In other words, don't rock the boat because you're the one being judged. All these racial overtones and undertones just keep building, boiling to the surface when the narrative bomb is dropped and a full-blown, insane explanation is given for what we've been seeing.

By the time Peele shows his cards and it's clear what's happening (the details of which land somewhere between A Clockwork Orange, The Stepford Wives and Soylent Green), a shift has to come, and how well he pulls off this transition is what will make or break the movie for many. Mostly, it's a seamless one due to the fact that we've been pulling so hard for this protagonist since he walked into an already awkward situation with the best of intentions, realizing it's now a fight for  survival. And once it is, you'll again be scratching your head at how this was even made to begin with, and yet somehow Peele pulls it off, juggling sci-fi, horror, comedy and socially conscious drama as deftly as possible considering the unexplored thematic terrain.

Given how many different things are attempted, this all remains fairly consistent right up until and including the final scene, which frightens in much the same way the rest of the film does, just in a more literal context. It cleverly reminds us, in even the most extreme situations, how justified the protagonist's fear is, and how stagnantly ingrained society's view of him is. By masquerading as a horror film, before fully evolving into one, it's able to explore and tackle timely issues that could otherwise play as as a preachy sermon under more traditional circumstances. Instead, we get something that pushes the envelope just far enough to leave a lasting imprint. How much of one will have to bare itself out in subsequent viewings, which is something Get Out proves more than worthy of.