“Who are you?”
“We are Americans.”
WARNING: Go into this movie blind. And avoid this article (and all articles) until you see it.
What makes a filmmaker a “Master of Horror”? It’s a term that horror fans don’t like to loosely throw around, reserved only for top tier talents like George Romero, Wes Craven, Alfred Hitchcock and John Carpenter, and it’s one we’ve most recently been forced to toy with applying to, of all people, Jordan Peele. With his debut feature Get Out in 2017, Peele showed an insane amount of promise as a potential “Master of Horror” on the rise, but it’s this year’s Us, his sophomore effort, that makes something crystal clear to me personally: he’s not just a master – a “Master of Horror,” specifically – but he’s also a true, genuine American original.
So what does make a filmmaker a “Master of Horror”? If you’re asking me, it’s the ability to use the horror genre not just to terrify, but to broach important and oftentimes uncomfortable real world fears, anxieties and truths within the framework of the genre. It’s the ability not just to merely make good horror movies, but to make *important* horror movies. Who fits that particular bill, you ask? George Romero. Wes Craven. John Carpenter. And yes, Jordan Peele.
At first a home invasion film wherein a family is besieged by their creepy doppelgangers, Us has grown and expanded into something more, much more, by the time the breathtaking final shot puts a satisfying exclamation point at the end of Peele’s fun, terrifying, smart and challenging thesis on the current state of both us, as a society, and of U.S. – the United States of America. That stunning final shot of Peele’s second film sees a group of unified individuals building a literal human wall across all of America, a powerful statement that Peele ripped from the real-life “Hands Across America” benefit event of 1986. On May 25th, 1986, 6.5 million people quite literally held hands across America, forming a human chain for fifteen minutes to bring awareness to and raise money for the fight against hunger and homelessness in America. And with Us, 30 years later, Peele uses the horror genre to bring that same awareness to the fore.
What does it all mean? What precisely is he trying to say here? Let’s dig in, shall we?
Us begins in 1986, and the reasoning isn’t merely an aesthetic choice to allow Peele to show off his copy of C.H.U.D. on VHS or to recreate the iconic Santa Cruz boardwalk in its Lost Boys prime – though both things, I assure you, earned big smiles from yours truly. The film literally begins with a young version of main character Adelaide Wilson watching a commercial for the “Hands Across America” event on TV, and then we head to Santa Cruz – where her life is irreparably changed by a terrifying encounter with her doppelganger in a spooky attraction.
Adelaide, we quickly realize, hasn’t been the same since whatever happened inside that attraction just off the Santa Cruz boardwalk, and this mysterious event becomes a key element when we jump to the present, with an adult Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o) and her family (husband and two children, one boy and one girl) returning to Santa Cruz for some fun in the sun. Of course, only Adelaide is keenly aware of what *could* happen next, and oh boy does it ever.
One night – and the entire film, for the most part, plays out across that one blood-soaked night – a family of doppelgangers shows up in the Wilson family’s driveway: they each look eerily similar to the Wilsons, only much creepier and, for reasons unknown to any of us at the start, they’re out for the blood of their happier, more well-adjusted clones. But rather than getting right to the bloody murder, Peele stages the first encounter between the two families in chillingly calm fashion: the doppelgangers sit the Wilsons down on the couch for a little talk.
It’s “Red,” Adelaide’s doppelganger (also played by Nyong’o) who is the clear source of power in the family, and she’s also the only one who’s able to talk – albeit, in a barely-human voice that allows Nyong’o to create an entirely different character than the sweet, loving mother she plays as Adelaide. In the first of a couple scenes where she does, “Red” essentially lays out what’s going on here – and much credit goes to Peele for those “exposition dumps,” which are chillingly well executed while also making sure we’re picking up what he’s laying down. Personally speaking, it drives me crazy when filmmakers don’t bother to fill in any of their own blanks, and it’s a testament to Peele’s genuine mastery that he gives us so much to think about, talk about and chew on, while also making sure to tell a complete story with clearly defined intentions. But I digress.
In the two main monologues that Nyong’o delivers as the creepy Red, we learn that these doppelgangers are “The Tethered,” relegated to abandoned tunnels underneath our feet and described by Red as being “shadows” of the real people living in luxury above them. While Adelaide and her family have lived relatively happy lives, fed with warm meals and surrounded by the comforts of the modern world, Red and *her* family have been living in squalor, foraging for meals and bereft of the advantages their counterparts have taken for granted – the doppelganger for Adelaide’s husband, Peele casually notes as one small example that stresses the disparity, has poor vision but was never provided with eyeglasses. All of this insight is dumped onto us in Red’s first monologue, and it’s in the second one (much later in the film) where Peele dives head-first into the deep end of his own symbolic mythology.
As we eventually learn in the film, every single human being in America has a “shadow” – the film is at its bloodiest when we meet the shadows of the Wilson family’s neighbors – and Red explains in her final monologue that “The Tethered” were created by the government to be used as a way of controlling the *real* people of America. Of course, the whole experiment didn’t quite work out as planned, and “The Tethered” were completely abandoned underground. It’s a big-swing mythology bomb if there ever has been one in a major Hollywood horror film, and though Peele doesn’t explain *too much* about how it all works – try not to get too caught up in the specifics, I’d advise – he dishes it all with such confidence and finesse that it’s impossible not to completely buy into what he’s selling. Overall, Us is a film loaded with big-swing choices that probably would have failed in lesser hands – but Peele is a very, very special filmmaker.
In any event, it ultimately becomes clear that Red, thanks to her 1986 encounter with a young Adelaide when she herself was a child, is the smartest of “The Tethered,” and she’s been working for 30 years on rising up and taking control of America – the shadows, in other words, want to take the place of the real human beings whose images they were created in. More specifically, we learn at the very, very end of the movie that Adelaide herself has actually been the doppelganger the whole time, while Red has actually been the real Adelaide(!) – thus explaining why Red is able to speak and think for herself… she’s not a doppelganger, she’s a real human being. But it’s not the sort of downbeat twist that a lesser filmmaker would use to inform us that our hero has actually been the villain all along. No, it’s much deeper than that. The twist, instead, puts a wholly satisfying, lightbulb-over-the-head button on what Peele is saying with the film.
“The Tethered,” quite literally alternate versions of ourselves, seem to be clearly representing anyone and everyone who has ever been marginalized in America, pushed down to the bottom and cut off from the advantages and privileges afforded to the “haves” in this country. They’re “us,” but we sure don’t treat them like they are. Of course, Peele filters all of this real-world, conversation-starting content through the lens of the horror genre, turning the “have nots” into bloodthirsty creepers, but don’t let that distract you from the deeper truth of their existence.
America’s “dirty little secret,” if you will, is that millions upon millions are living lives of poverty while others are thriving, and Peele’s Us calls the country to task with a statement as powerful as the real-life “Hands Across America” stunt back in 1986. If we all come together, as millions so memorably did on May 25th of that year, we can all live on a level playing field, but instead we seem intent on drawing a clear line between the “haves” and the “have nots” – thriving Americans and their struggling, starving shadows. By brilliantly tying this social commentary into the “Hands Across America” campaign, Peele is able to end Us with one hell of a mic drop, quite literally recreating the iconic “Hands Across America” imagery with his blood red villains.
But it’s the final moments with Adelaide that are just as striking. She’s clearly horrified when she finally realizes that she’s actually been one of “The Tethered” all along, but she cracks a slight smile when she realizes something much more important: it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter where she came from, it only matters where she is and who she is now. A loving wife. A warrior of a mother. Because she herself was raised in a loving household, provided with access to the arts and afforded opportunities to discover herself and find her inner happiness, Adelaide’s doppelganger thrived on the surface world, while the real Adelaide crumbled and became a monster in the deep, dark rabbit hole just underneath her feet. In America, *we* are our own worst enemies, and we’re daily creating tomorrow’s villains by marginalizing our own *today.*
Maybe it’s time, as Peele posits, for a sort of “Untethering.”
All this mind-fuck headiness aside, the true brilliance of Jordan Peele is that his social commentary is woven into the fabric of movies that, at the end of the day, are just plain entertaining to watch. If you wish to look no deeper into the film than its surface level, Us is one hell of a wild and entertaining time as a home invasion horror movie, as Peele never forgets to make sure you’re having a good time while he’s slowly burning his message into your brain. With Us, he weaves horror and humor so effortlessly together that you’re terrified one second and then out-loud laughing the next, and it never once feels tonally jarring in the slightest. It’s creepy as can be, there’s no doubt about that, but it’s smart enough to know when to poke fun at the total insanity being unleashed within it. Again, Peele proves a mastery of genre.
And then there’s Lupita Nyong’o, who steals the show in her dual performance as both Adelaide and Red. There’s a moment early on in the initial “home invasion” sequence where you realize you’re so terrified of what’s happening because Nyong’o is so expertly conveying terror, and then it’s taken to a whole new level by the realization that it’s also Nyong’o that you’re so terrified of. She manages to turn Adelaide and Red into characters so impossibly different that you find yourself forgetting they were both played by one actor, and her performance as Adelaide is as impressive as her next-level performance as Red. As Adelaide, she takes you on a journey from a frightened woman who never quite grew past her most troubling childhood experience to a badass warrior-hero. And as Red, well, she’s just plain nightmare fuel.
It’s Nyong’o who comes out of Us earning Oscar buzz – please don’t fail us again next year, Academy – but a whole lot of credit must also be given to co-star Winston Duke, who brings the comedy and levity as Gabe Wilson, Adelaide’s husband. Whenever the movie is getting too tense, Duke is there to make you laugh, and his performance goes a long way in terms of endearing you to the entire family. As the kids, Shahadi Wright Joseph and Evan Alex each get their own moments to shine, becoming lovable horror heroes in their own right by the end – when the kids bump fists in the final moments, it’s a fully earned moment of triumph. As a whole, the family unit at the center of Us is one of the most likable you’ll ever find within the genre.
There’s so much about Us that’s worthy of praise that I could honestly spend my entire day adding to this article, but at the risk of running a bit too long, I’ll just give a quick shout-out to another element of the film that I absolutely loved: the score from composer Michael Abels and the soundtrack overall, particularly the eerie remix of the film’s key song, “I Got 5 On It” by Luniz. Highlighted in the trailers, the original version of the song is first heard diegetically in the car while the Wilson family is driving to Santa Cruz, but it later pops up two other times throughout the movie. Notably, the movie’s exclusive remix is woven into the final battle between Adelaide and Red, which is really more of a dance than a fight. It’s one hell of a bold choice from Peele, and like pretty much all the choices he makes in Us, man does it pay off.
I have no doubt that the comments section of this article will be littered with many of you guys telling me that I’m “over-hyping” the movie, but I assure you, I genuinely think it’s a masterpiece within the horror genre. And yes, I truly do believe that Peele is the genre’s newest master. If you disagree, that’s more than okay with me, but my hope is that this article spawns discussion from those who dug Us rather than nasty comments from those who didn’t.
So let’s join hands and unpack this bad boy together, yeah?
