It’s so frustrating to sit through a film constantly trying to figure out what the hell’s going on when the director himself might as well question the same. I found such was the case watching Jordan Peele’s newest directorial feature, Us (2019). Relying on familiar horror tropes and complex symbolic themes, Peele seems to reach for the stars naively; almost too confident with the little experience he has. It’s certainly a step down from his debut, Get Out (2017), where his craft is clearly far more polished and refined.
What exactly is Peele trying to say? Does he himself even know? Does he imply we’re ungrateful for the privilege we have? That our joy comes at another’s expense? Or does the film explore the correlations between our conscious and subconscious? Us is so convoluted with religious, psychological, and political metaphors that there’s little to hold onto— nobody to feel for and nothing connect with. The title itself even serves as a metaphor, with the letters representing the United States. But why? Why all the Jeremiah 11:11 references if, as Peele explained, the film is about “American privilege”? Why the allusions to Michael Jackson and his image as the “patron saint of duality”, in Peele’s words, if he suggests religious unity must be achieved between heaven and hell? Us barely has any structural foundation, and nevertheless attempts to build a skyscraper off it.
Perhaps the film’s most jarring and specific flaw is its disgusting blend of horror and humor. It seems as if Peele hasn’t adjusted from his Comedy Central days, always trying to sneak in a joke or two for no reason. But even then, in Get Out, some comedic moments were appropriate in emphasizing racial differences and driving respective storylines and themes forward. In Us, Peele’s source of laughter comes from Gabe (Winston Duke) showing off his boat. And that’s about it. Completely unnecessary, not to mention that it isn’t even funny. Weaving tonal inconsistencies from what’s supposed to be terrifying and devastating horror to detrimental and irrelevant humor, Peele leaves the audience feeling confused on whether or not to laugh rather than applauding at his foolhardy originality.
I think I’m being too hard on Peele. All this criticism is aimed at smaller details amidst a thought-provoking, intelligent, bigger picture. Perhaps he borders on pretentious at some points, but his ideas are undeniably relevant to our society today. Bearing an outspoken concern for racial tensions, Peele urges us to reconsider our identity, culture, and actions towards others in a way many few filmmakers even dare to do nowadays. I respect his kind of ambition, and as long as he’ll be pushing the boundaries of what cinema can do, I’ll be eagerly anticipating his next work in the theaters.
C
What exactly is Peele trying to say? Does he himself even know? Does he imply we’re ungrateful for the privilege we have? That our joy comes at another’s expense? Or does the film explore the correlations between our conscious and subconscious? Us is so convoluted with religious, psychological, and political metaphors that there’s little to hold onto— nobody to feel for and nothing connect with. The title itself even serves as a metaphor, with the letters representing the United States. But why? Why all the Jeremiah 11:11 references if, as Peele explained, the film is about “American privilege”? Why the allusions to Michael Jackson and his image as the “patron saint of duality”, in Peele’s words, if he suggests religious unity must be achieved between heaven and hell? Us barely has any structural foundation, and nevertheless attempts to build a skyscraper off it.
Perhaps the film’s most jarring and specific flaw is its disgusting blend of horror and humor. It seems as if Peele hasn’t adjusted from his Comedy Central days, always trying to sneak in a joke or two for no reason. But even then, in Get Out, some comedic moments were appropriate in emphasizing racial differences and driving respective storylines and themes forward. In Us, Peele’s source of laughter comes from Gabe (Winston Duke) showing off his boat. And that’s about it. Completely unnecessary, not to mention that it isn’t even funny. Weaving tonal inconsistencies from what’s supposed to be terrifying and devastating horror to detrimental and irrelevant humor, Peele leaves the audience feeling confused on whether or not to laugh rather than applauding at his foolhardy originality.
I think I’m being too hard on Peele. All this criticism is aimed at smaller details amidst a thought-provoking, intelligent, bigger picture. Perhaps he borders on pretentious at some points, but his ideas are undeniably relevant to our society today. Bearing an outspoken concern for racial tensions, Peele urges us to reconsider our identity, culture, and actions towards others in a way many few filmmakers even dare to do nowadays. I respect his kind of ambition, and as long as he’ll be pushing the boundaries of what cinema can do, I’ll be eagerly anticipating his next work in the theaters.
C