Us

Spoiler Alert.

A family attends a local carnival in Summer, and as the father claims a winning prize, his daughter blindly wanders off.

She takes in the sights and sounds with quaint innocent wonder, before finding herself on the beach, approaching a mysterious funhouse.

Undaunted by her lack of adult accompaniment, and curious to see what amusingly jests inside, she boldly enters comma one two three, then delights in both razzle and dazzle.

Yet, ominously awaiting in the house of mirrors, as unaware of its fateful reckoning as its unsuspecting daylit lifeblood, is a startled provocative doppelgänger, who's never known true warmth or joy.

What happens next is concealed as time travels to the present day.

Upon which a family has returned to the same destination, without concern for its treacherous echoes.

Which they have often done, it appears they have often travelled there before, Jordan Peele's Us revelling in auspicious tradition, overflowing with romance embalmed.

People are somewhat happy.

There's cheer, mirth, goodwill, adventure.

They often get along well with one another.

A community, a pact.

A team.

But what if every inhabitant of the Earth, rich or poor, black, white, Asian, First Nations, in fact had a covetous doppelgänger, and they didn't exist in an imperceptible alternative dimension, but lived somewhere deep within the Earth indeed?

And what if the delineations demarcating the ontological zones dematerialized in chaotic rupture, and being became inherently combative, as neither group attempted to understand the other?

Us examines this dilemma through the lens of sedate horror, macroscopically manifested in stark haunting menace, improbability rationalized through dismal absurdity, disquieting comforts, confrontationally invested.

Like Star Trek's Mirror, Mirror if it was somewhat zombie.

More cerebral than it is terrifying, it still harrowingly gestates mayhem.

But without reasons explaining its dire conceit, apart from the mention of abandoned networks of tunnels at the beginning, sparse dialogue, clunky conversation, its narrative is somewhat comic, although the film isn't really that funny.

It's well-crafted nevertheless, and doesn't rely on sensation to tell its tale.

But its apocalyptic ambient cunning falls short of Get Out's daring shocks, a gripping tale in the moment no less, but not something I can't wait to see again.

Get Out

Racist idiocy is taken to its ludicrous point of no return in Jordan Peele's terrifying Get Out, wherein which science-fiction theorizes immortality, and horror practically applies it.

Intergenerationally.

An African American is seduced by a Caucasian beauty, and after months of seemingly harmless courtship, is invited to her country home.

Little does he know that the logic underlying his initial misgivings is in fact fuelling her emotional duplicity.

Fundamentally speaking.

For what was formerly dismissed and despised by the reprehensible has been transformed into an object of veneration, or what was once loathed is now admired, even coveted in the corporeal sense.

He soon finds himself designated somnambulistic person of interest, over a cup of late evening tea, and left plunged deep below the subconscious surface.

Floating in limbo.

His closest friend immediately grasps his peril, employing relevant pop cultural analyses to comprehend, but can assist not, from his digs in the heart of the city.

As a result, only improvised ingenuity can psychologically save him, physically speaking, as the operating table is prepped, and shackles retain fear enraged.

Perfidy.

Misjudging friendship.

A mind-boggling manifestation of the Machiavellian macabre, Get Out succeeds where so many horror films fail.

Its absurd plot is rationally realized through a dramatic commitment that is neither forced nor exaggerated.

It doesn't rely on the supernatural and therefore resonates with harrowing plausibility.

More than a weekend was spent writing the script, and the resultant social commentary is less shocking, until the truth emerges.

And clues are presented and analyzed, deductive aids invoked, as the awkward sleuths eternal, confronting dismissive ridicule through haunting contemplation.

It's nice to see so much time and care put into the creation of thought provoking horror.

The social commentary isn't as ridiculous as it seems, in fact it's quite reasonable, mad jealousy taken to the extreme, the insane application of unscientific conjecture.

I always thought you see a lot of African Americans on professional sports teams because institutional racism keeps their communities poor, and when you're poor you have a lot more time to focus on sport, if you aren't working, and more drive to be the best, because you aren't growing up surrounded by luxurious distractions and potential opportunities.

That's the logical explanation anyways.

As upsetting as such a point remains.