Us
Lupita Nyong’o, Winston Duke
Director Jordan Peele
Review Ray Chan
After comedian-turned-filmmaker Jordan Peele earned an Oscar for debut feature film Get Out, the expectations were high for his follow-up.
Early reviews of that movie, Us, have been overwhelmingly positive, and it’s a pleasure to report that it's easy to see why. There’s no sophomore slump to be found here, and Peele remains one of the most exciting American filmmakers to come around in a long time.
Us is a 1970s-inspired horror flick that wears its references on its sleeve and crawls with terror and tension, a melodrama which throws up philosophical questions about existence and identity.
Our unsuspecting picture-perfect American family is the Wilsons: Gabe (Winston Duke), Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o) and their children, Zora and Jason. They arrive in Santa Cruz, California, at their family summer home ready to enjoy the beach town — even though Adelaide is troubled by disturbing memories of her childhood there, when she eerily confronted a doppelganger of herself.
But they go anyway to keep up appearances and impress their affluent friends. Adelaide's fears are realised when a strangely identical version of the Wilson family — clad in red jumpsuits and wielding sharp scissors — shows up in their driveway one night, causing her cold sweats to flow profusely. It proves to be not just a physical invasion, but one of the soul as well.
As both Adelaide and Red, the matriarch of the photocopied Wilson family and leader of the attack, Nyong’o anchors the film with a spellbinding and bone-rattling dual performance. Red is a horror hall-of-fame scary mommy as unnerving as any you’ve ever seen. Her presence becomes even more menacing when it's revealed she is the mastermind of a whole tribe of community copycats.
Peele, meanwhile, demonstrates a mastery over film-making craft and tone much in the same way he did with Get Out. His elegant command of cinematic grammar build slow, lurking dread, and the surprisingly melancholy mood he captures in the film’s more reflective passages provokes a deeper response than just cursory shrieks of fear.
But while the script for Get Out, with its clever allegories and visual prompts, felt like a tightly wound watch with gears all in place, Us feels messier because of its bigger and broader plane.
The director has widened his scope from one small hamlet’s terrible secret to the entire country, dabbling in ideas of governmental mind control and total societal collapse. It alludes to people being treated as test subjects, symbolised by the recurring use of rabbits in laboratory cages.
In doing so, it doesn't settle on a central focus, drifting between a home-invasion thriller, an apocalypse film, a zombie movie, to an identity crisis. It’s impressive that Us manages to be all those things with finesse and style, but it feels as if it hasn’t fully gelled yet. There's a twist ending which half satisfies because it opens up questions which don't have immediate answers.
The Wilsons' envy of a richer family emulates the hunger suffered by the duplicates. It is a story about whether all our fortunes or happiness requires the privation of others. It's about what it’s like to covet a tiny object from the universe — in the movie, items like a stuffed rabbit, or lipstick — and never get it.
It seems a clear message from Peele to the people of his homeland. Indeed, reflecting the dualism theme, there's a dichotomy to the name of the movie itself, with Us a clear reference to the United States. It invites Americans to not only look at the film Us, but to then “look at us” figuratively. This is a movie about divided selves in a divided nation with no clear resolution, forcing viewers to leave the theatre with their fears intact.