PET SEMATARY (2019)

[Contains spoilers for the novel and both adaptations of Pet Sematary.]

A remake of Pet Sematary has been bouncing around Hollywood since 2006, ever since George Clooney and Steven Soderbergh attempted to produce it through their then-new company Section Eight Productions, which had also done Christopher Nolan’s remake of Insomnia. Clooney was even set to star as Louis Creed, patriarch and serial burialist of the Creed family. That, obviously, didn’t happen. But, after a decade of development hell, Pet Sematary has arrived, and…this is what we got.

Dennis Widmyer and Kevin Kölsch, the directorial pair behind the creepy and successful indie Starry Eyes, had their work cut out for them. Doing a remake is thankless. From the very beginning, you have two choices: stay faithful to the source material (King handled the screenplay for Mary Lambert’s 1989 take, so it’s nearly identical to the book), which will have people asking you, “Why bother?” (see: The Omen remake), or find ways to stay true to the spirit of the story while taking new chances. The danger with this latter approach is making changes that devout fans will see as arbitrary, but something about which the filmmakers can say, “See? It’s different.” Pet Sematary does this a lot—makes small, seemingly unnecessary changes. Yet, if you sat down with the redux for any five-minute segment without actually knowing what you were watching, by the end of those five minutes, you would know. It’s a familiar story with familiar characters, and certainly a familiar concept; Pet Sematary never strays so far as to become unrecognizable, but if you’re already intimate with the story, you can’t help but think, again, “Why bother?”

To its credit, Pet Sematary wants to include as much as it can from the novel that the filmmakers consider “essential,” but with everything vying for space, significant portions of these elements are spread too thin. Victor Pascow (Obssa Ahmed) is barely utilized, reduced to such a footnote that you have to wonder why the filmmakers felt compelled to include him; and despite a far more graphic head wound, complete with pulsating brain, the specter doesn’t come close to matching the former’s onscreen presence. Additionally, we’re robbed of Louis and Jud meeting for the first time, given the dynamic the two men will share and the things they will experience together; instead, we find that the men are already politely acquainted halfway through a throwaway dinner sequence. Weirdly, there’s a complete lack of acknowledgment regarding the connection between the existence of the pet cemetery and the very dangerous road that cuts through the Creed and Crandall estates, being that canon explicitly states the former exists because of the latter. Meanwhile, the Timmy Baterman story, one of the creepiest sequences from the original, is downgraded to a newspaper headline. The character of Zelda, the most terrifying part from the original and the novel, is reduced to a pile of rubber bones and limbs dropped repeatedly down an elevator shaft. (Seriously.) The mishandling of this character in particular is Pet Sematary’s worst offense.

From the first frame, even before a single “scary” thing has happened, Mary Lambert’s 1989 original adaptation oozes dread. You can feel that things will go very badly for the Creeds, and already your chest begins to tighten. For example, she knows everyone has read the book, and she knows everyone will be waiting with bated breath to see little Gage lose his life in the road. That’s why she, wisely, cunningly, even sadistically, introduces the Orinco truck several scenes before the final encounter, because she wants to milk that suspense for every ounce, interrupting a happy-go-lucky picnic more than once to cut back to the truck speeding down the road toward them. Now, when the Creeds 2.0 pull up to their new rural home, you already know bad things are going to happen—not because of any induced dread, but because you’ve experienced this story twice already, so no shit. Yet, there’s a complete lack of suspense or ominousness. The admittedly beautiful opening overhead drone shot of a burning house, which we all know to be Jud’s, is another immediate reminder that, yep, bad things are afoot, but it still doesn’t quite help stoke those brooding fires. Nor does the surprisingly lifeless score by Christopher Young, who ordinarily dominates the horror genre.  

Pet Sematary makes the same mistake as another high profile remake, Rob Zombie’s terrible Halloween: whenever the filmmakers deviate from the story audiences know and love, you can feel their spark, their interest, their excitement in exploring this new direction. But when leaning back on the mainstay elements from those same stories, you can feel their obligation to just barrel through and begin tackling all their material—to infuse the property with their identity, to put a stamp on a title that they’ve temporarily borrowed before sliding it back onto the shelf. Pet Sematary doesn’t fully come alive until, ironically, Ellie does—from the dead, that is. Obviously, this is the biggest change in this new iteration, as the filmmakers felt using Ellie as the resurrected child would provide additional pathos. With Ellie being older and in a position to understand what was happening to her, she could better echo those sentiments to her god-playing father, which was meant to boost the film’s philosophical look at death. 

But what, ultimately, did we learn from this? 

What we already knew from the novel and the original adaptation.

Sometimes, dead is better. 

As for the ending, it’s dreadful; very strangely borrowing from Pet Sematary Two, it’s made even more frustrating by the fact that the alternate ending included on the home video release is far better—gloomier, more ominous, more satirical, and more tonally appropriate. The one that went to theaters was the stuff of Hollywood hokum, rendering whatever mature goodwill the film had achieved as kaput. Screenwriter Jeff Buhler says this is because they wanted the audience to leave with a smile, which seems like a bonehead decision, being that smiles don’t belong anywhere near Pet Sematary, a manuscript King found so vile that he shoved it into a drawer upon completing it, deciding it would never see the light of the day because he’d finally gone too far. 

In spite of all the whining, Pet Sematary isn’t a bad flick, and there are several things lending to its favor. Ellie’s post-resurrection appearance is subtly but deeply unnerving; a drooping eye hints at major damage going on beneath the surface (that bathtub sequence…Jesus), and young Jeté Laurence is incredibly creepy in the role before the film falls victim to the pitfalls of the “evil kid” genre. After a while, she’s reduced to a pint-sized zombie kid using “scary” glaring eyes and coming a little too close to rattling off ironic Chucky-like threats. Amy Seimetz as Rachel is easily the film’s most interesting character, and Seimetz’s performance is a large reason why: she ably sells Rachel’s extremely mangled view of death, due to her childhood experience with her sickened sister, Zelda. Lithgow, too, does fine with the role of Jud Crandall, made iconic by Fred Gwynne, though he sheds Gwynne’s folksiness in favor of curmudgeonness. He also doesn’t even attempt a New England accent. (Not a single a’yuh! What gives!) Lastly, there’s Jason Clarke—an actor capable of much more than the scripts he signs onto. It feels weird to say, but his take on Louis never reaches the same emotionally tormented heights of the original’s fairly unknown Dale Midkiff (whose “NOOOOOOOO!” is still one of the best anguished screams in cinema). 

The filmmakers poke fun at their audience by presenting sequences they think they know, only to see they’re heading off in different directions. (Jud’s death is a perfect example.) Additionally, and I don’t know this for sure, but I’d swear they lifted audio from the original flick, borrowing one use each of Zelda’s screechy “RAAAAACHEL!” and a growl from an undead Church. There also several loving nods to King’s other works, one of which includes an off-screen Jud telling a guest at Ellie’s birthday party about a rabid Saint Bernard. Widmyer and Kölsch’s design of the deadfall and the Indian burial ground behind it is ripped right from the film cells of old fashioned monster movies like Frankenstein and The Wolf Man, depicted as dreamlike and different, since this part of Ludlow’s woods are meant to be evil and mysterious. As a concept, this is tremendous, though it suffers in execution from some surprisingly shoddy green-screen. 

Paramount’s Blu-ray contains over 80 minutes of special features, including the before mentioned alternate ending, along with “Beyond the Deadfall,” which runs an hour in length across four different “chapters.” This supplement is rich with information and content, and goes beyond your standard EPK to delve heavily into the film’s genesis and production. (Stephen King does not appear.) Sadly, however, this is yet another studio release that lacks a commentary with the directors, and in its place are strange and very brief narrative pieces where several of the flick’s major characters have their own unique nightmares about the burial ground. Finally, we do get the story of Timmy Baterman, but in a weird one-man show where Lithgow, in character, sits down and presents the story as a campfire tale to us, the audience. 

Far worse adaptations have come from Stephen King, and if you asked the man himself, even he would probably rank this new version of Pet Sematary above bonafide classic The Shining, an adaptation he never misses the chance to impugn. Even so, it’s ironic that Pet Sematary’s main conflict comes from “those damned Orinco trucks” speeding dangerously back and forth, being that this new version of the story is standing directly in the middle of the road.

Pet Sematary is now available on Blu-ray from Paramount Pictures.

[Reprinted from Daily Grindhouse.]

THE REAL CREED 2

Get it?

Incredibly proud to have made something so stupid.

BLU-RAY REVIEW: ESCAPE PLAN: THE EXTRACTORS (2019)

The first Escape Plan is an unremarkable but admittedly fun throwback to high-concept action fare typical of the 1980s. Nearly every action star had his own prison flick during that era, and in Stallone’s case, he did it twice. (Tango & Cash totally counts.) By the time he and Arnold Schwarzenegger joined forces in 2013 for what was originally called “The Tomb” and which eventually became Escape Plan, even the critics who enjoyed the film accurately observed that such a team-up would have been the stuff of action fans’ dreams…had they done it 20 years ago. 

Escape Plan did so-so business at the domestic box office, but was a major title in China (as tends to happen with big dumb Hollywood spectacles), so when Lionsgate announced not one but two sequels, cynics were both amused and confused. That they would be mostly funded by Chinese production companies, and would star Chinese actors alongside returnees from the first film, made sense of Lionsgate’s decision. 

The first of these was Escape Plan 2: Hades, directed by master hack extraordinaire Steven C. Miller, who has had the distinct pleasure of working with Bruce Willis (three times), Nicolas Cage, John Cusack, and Malcolm McDowell but without ever making anything even approaching watchable. That Stallone doesn’t even appear in the sequel beyond a contractual 20 minutes was the icing on the cake of mediocrity that effortlessly proved why movie goers avoid direct-to-video titles whenever possible. 

Escape Plan: The Extractors, following on the tail end of this, seemed doomed.

Imagine my surprise.

Directed by actual filmmaker John Herzfeld (15 Minutes, the underrated Tarantino ripoff 2 Days in the Valley), and with nearly every surviving cast member of Ray Breslin’s team returning (except for Amy Ryan, who is replaced by Jamie King), Escape Plan: The Extractors feels like a bonafide sequel to the first film in every way that its predecessor, Hades, didn’t. As if knowing how much of a turd the previous flick was, Escape Plan: The Extractors has dropped the “3” from its title to more closely associate only with the first film. Better yet, there’s no bait-and-switch this time. Stallone is definitely your lead hero AND actor this time out, though he shares the screen with a bodyguard named Shen (Jin Zhang), who works alongside Breslin to rescue a former asset that’s been kidnapped by the film’s primary villain. And it’s not just the familiar faces that help render this connection to the first film, but the sequel’s conflict ties back directly to the first film’s events—specifically the resolution of the character played by Vincent D’Onofrio (who appears here courtesy of stock footage). One can look at this connection and groan and say, “of course a direct-to-video sequel to an okay action flick is pulling this,” but I’m fine with it: if Escape Plan: The Extractors wants to riff a little on Die Hard With A Vengeance, I won’t stand in its way.

But okay, the action: that’s why we’re all here, isn’t it? Like most other quiet direct-to-video/VOD releases from Lionsgate, Escape Plan: The Extractors suffers from some really poor CGI during the action sequences, but thankfully, director Herzfeld relies on practical effects whenever possible, dialing back gunfights in favor of some genuine, hombre-on-hombre fisticuffs. The final fight between Stallone and villain Devon Sawa – yes! the cutie boy from Little Giants! – is a brutal ass-handing, with Stallone landing such heavy hits that you’ll swear you can feel them.

Future Expendable Dave Bautista returns from the second film to lend a hand in all the ass-kicking, even getting to enjoy the rare novelty of fighting his own body double/stunt man, who plays a nameless villain within the Estonian prison where the third act plays out.  Bautista, who also barely appears in Hades, is finally given something to do, and while his screen time won’t please his most ardent fans, he appears enough that no one should feel ripped off about it. (There’s very little 50 Cent, which suits me just fine.) 

The Blu-ray release offers a respectable dose of special features: a commentary with director John Herzfeld and actors Sylvester Stallone and Devon Sawa, along with a pretty typical ten-minute behind-the-scenes/interview EPK that sees participation from almost all cast and the director. Stallone talks specifically about the final fight scene and how he approached doing it, which was—for the first time in his career—to just wing it, instead of relying on careful choreography. (The fight scene is rawer and angrier than one would expect, so his experiment was a success. It lacks any kind of polished grace in favor of brute force brutality.)

In the interest of full disclosure, I could never responsibly say that this latest sequel is a good movie. The script contains some hammy dialogue, which leads to some hammy performances, and again, the conflict is ripped straight from the school of cliché, but if we’re being fair, the first flick didn’t exactly have a well-oiled script, either. In fact, since comparisons are inevitable, I can’t even responsibly say that the first Escape Plan is a good movie, but it is fun, and good for what it was. Escape Plan: The Extractors is a darker take on this world, dialing down much of the humor (a lack of Arnold will do that, I suppose) and even offering a couple of genuinely shocking moments that one wouldn’t expect to see in such an under-the-radar title. In that regard, it’s fair to say that The Extractors is a low-fi but worthy follow-up. 

Will there be further Escape Plan sequels? As of right now, none have been officially announced, though the ending teases a new adventure. Based on the reception of Hades, the future of the franchise hinges on how the world takes to The Extractors. Personally, I wouldn’t bet on Escape Plan 4, but if there’s one thing Stallone is good at, it’s proving me wrong.

Escape Plan: The Extractors hits Blu-ray today from Lionsgate Films.

[Reprinted from Daily Grindhouse.]

INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1978)

Within a window of three years during the late '70s/early '80s, the world would receive two of the greatest sci-fi remakes of all time. The latter would be John Carpenter's grisly and bleak monster opus The Thing, but preceding it would be Philip Kaufman's Invasion of the Body Snatchers, itself also an update of a 1950s classic. That both films would heavily lean on the idea of those you knew being taken over by an organism from another world, rendering your former society untrustworthy and even deadly, were reactionary from a previous decade of civil, governmental, and international unrest and distrust. While The Thing was much more about the inability to trust on the individual level, 1978's Invasion of the Body Snatchers was centered on the fear of the bigger picture. The original Invasion, as the best cinema does--especially horror--was a reflection of the times--namely communism. Whether or not the film satirized the idea of communist ideas spreading like a virus, or was in essence a legit warning that such an event were actually taking place, will likely always be up for debate, but make no mistake: communism was at the forefront of Don Siegel's original invasion. It's one of the main reasons that the classic film hasn't dated all that well.

In the America of the 1970s, especially San Francisco, everything was changing. By then, Americans had grown disillusioned and angry over its involvement in the Vietnam War, and by the Kent State shooting which directly resulted from its protests. They had learned, through the Watergate scandal, that their own politicians didn't have the heart of the people in their best interests. Americans began looking to themselves for the social change they so desperately wanted. Feminism was born out of this. Culture exploded into more intense explorations of art, music, and literature. The sexual revolution. All the things the people gave to themselves while they waited around for their government officials to do the right thing.

But all during these awakenings, the people couldn't shake the feeling that the world around them, in which they existed, wasn't capable of the same kind of change. It hovered in the sky above and surrounded them on the ground below. Societal and international unrest was something that could be counteracted with positive social movements, but couldn't be quelled by them. Try as the people did to lose themselves in the art scene, at book readings, or in mudrooms, reminders of an unstable world was a constant crushing weight that, finally, overtook them all. As Kaufman says in his audio commentary, the 1970s saw the birth of pop psychology, during which psychiatrists relied on hugs and positive reassurance that everything was all right. "But everything was not all right."

Critics have been willing to lavish on Kaufman's Invasion redux the kind of praise it deserves, but reticent to label it as superior to its predecessor, even though it absolutely is. Not only does the Kaufman version feel timeless, it had the balls to carry through with its iconically bleak ending, whereas the original had original star Kevin McCarthy (who cameos in this version as a street lunatic bellowing "they're here!") waking up in a hospital bed and being told, basically, "Don't worry, America solved the whole invading alien species thing while you were asleep." Kaufman's take is eerier, more intimate, and somehow grittier. The camera moves around the room like an antsy witness to all that is unfolding, going in close and low on those who, it seems, have already been duplicated and replaced. The ragtag group of individuals embark on the same kind of grassroots movement to fight back against the invading threat that they would have utilized for giving the people back their voice and their freedoms to be who they are.

There's also, somewhat satirically, an emphasis on making our characters as forthright as they are oblivious. There are multiple instances in which characters are mired in their own personal connections to the unexplained phenomena unfolding around them, leaving them lost in thought--even as they walk by people tearing down the streets as if in a panic and being chased by something, or looking out a window for the imminent threat, somehow not noticing trash trucks collecting large dried out husks and crushing them into clouds of dust. Our characters are looking so hard for the explanation for the conflict surrounding them that they are missing what's in front of their faces. It leaves you wondering just what Kaufman was trying to say.

Are we already doomed? By the time we realize what the threat is, will it be too late?

The way this Invasion concludes, perhaps we already known the answer.

When strictly considering staying power, Kaufman's Invasion will likely be considered the ultimate take on Jack Finney's original novel, even though I'm sure there will be more iterations down the road as the people's strained relationship with their government continues assuredly down the wrong road. Forty years later, Invasion of the Body Snatchers is still a relevant mortality tale. Much in the same way George A. Romero used the same zombie threat to explore different facets of a failing society, the invading threat of alien organisms duplicating the human race one member at a time will continue to be explored in different ways, but for the same reason.

The 1970s has long been heralded as the greatest decade for film, giving birth to a cinematic movement known as the paranoid thriller, which includes titles like The Conversation, All the President's Men, and The French Connection. Included in this lineup is Philip Kaufman's Invasion of the Body Snatchers, which is not just a worthy contribution to the paranoia movement, but also an excellent sci-fi tale of immense fear and suspense, a call for social awareness, and finally, a superior remake of a groundbreaking predecessor. It's the kind of horror story that will live on through the ages, and like Richard Matheson's "I Am Legend," will be retold every so often to reflect the current times, though it's likely none of them will ever be as successful as Philip Kaufman's take.

DER SAMURAI (2015)

On the audio commentary included on its Blu-ray release by Artsploitation Films, producer Linus de Paoli paraphrases a former film teacher when he says that every film has to leave at least some questions unanswered, for if every possible curiosity the audience held for a certain film were satisfied, it would make that film forgettable. Nothing about that film would linger in the audience's mind. Such a philosophy has fully informed the construct of Der Samurai, which presents a lot of questions and provides very little answers. And boy, audiences do not like this -- especially the mainstream -- and Der Samurai is as far away as one can get from mainstream before traditional narrative is left behind entirely.

Der Samurai has been described as a black comedy, or a Lynchian mind-twister replete with bouts of dark humor. The first is fully incorrect, and the second is pushing it, but closer to the truth. For once you get over the fact that, yeah, you're watching what's clearly a man (or a man-shaped being) walk around in a formal dress and kill random people with a samurai sword, all while not-so-subtly trying to convince poor Jakob (Michel Diercks) to desire him, there's not that much humor to be found. A moment or two allows some levity - the scene in which Jakob violently assaults a lawn ornament flamingo is beyond surreal and kind of comes out of nowhere - but Der Samurai appears to be playing its outlandish concept very straight. And a certain understated beauty comes out of that. Or it could very well be what was intended as humor gets lost in the utter madness unfolding before you, leaving you ready to accept that this slice of oddness over here isn't meant to be more or less funny than all the other oddness surrounding it.

Jakob, awkward in his own skin, is an outcast. He doesn't maintain any groups of friends and lives with his grandmother (his parents are deceased). And the fact that he's a police officer doesn't earn him even a modicum of respect from his community or superiors. He's lonely, and likely wrestling with the fact that he is homosexual (though this is never flat-out admitted). His comfort in the presence of girls, in any way other than his role as server/protector of the people, is lacking. He sadly dreams of making a cavalier move on a pretty girl nice enough to give him a ride...but it's all in his head - a quick and stolen daydream; in actuality, he's staring out her car window, unaware of what to say or how to act.

In the same way that Tom Hanks made audiences cry over a volley ball, or Bruce Campbell wrangled tears by playing an elderly dying Elvis mortally wounded by a mummy, Der Samurai is adept at triggering a surprising melancholy reaction despite all its surrounding insanity. The Samurai, who is never named anything beyond that (and who is never actually called that during the film), makes his appearance in an ominous fashion, immediately gaining the distrust of the audience. But throughout the one long dark night over which Der Samurai's events unfold, the dynamic between our two lead characters begins to slowly change. The Samurai begins to embody many different things to the tortured Jakob: first, an antagonist; then, a leery friend; finally, a subject of sexual desire -- all before turning back around to becoming his antagonist again, only it's of a different sort: not of the sword-wielding psychopath, but of Jakob's refusal to admit who he is.

What may come off sounding like pretension is actually quite the opposite. Heavy themes aside, Der Samurai is wicked fun, strikingly directed, boasts an extremely brave performance from Pit Bukowski as The Samurai (see the film and you'll know why), and yeah, it does manage some mileage from some pretty dark gags. Seeing a man in a woman's dress taking off heads with a samurai sword is something that would likely never get old -- but lucky us, we get that along with an engaging story, likable characters, and even a tug at the 'ol heartstrings. It just may be the most unorthodox romance in the history of cinema.

Please see Der Samurai. There's no promise that you'll love it, or like it, or even understand it, but films that possess such an individuality and which circumvent typical cinematic machinations need to be supported to encourage other filmmakers to make more of them. Der Samurai offers something that films very rarely offer: the chance to experience something as graphic, thrilling, and mystifying as it is touching -- all while chopping off heads.

Der Samurai us available on Blu-ray from Artsploitation Films.

WISH UPON (2017)

Wish Upon feels like it should have seen release somewhere in the late ‘90s, where more fantastical teen thrillers like The Craft, The Faculty, and Disturbing Behavior were hitting theaters. There’s a certain novelty to it that, if nothing else, offers it its own identity in a crowded genre calendar. That Wish Upon also serves as the ultimate morality tale, heavily inspired by the immortal short story The Monkey’s Paw, too, helps it to stand off from the rest.

Otherwise, Wish Upon is woeful and inept to the point of accidental amusement, and you’ve got to hand it to the screenplay for being filled with such random bits that don’t really lead anywhere and offer any explanation. Joey King’s Clare is still haunted by the suicide of her mother a decade before, and with King consistently doing solid work in some popcorn favorites (The Conjuring, White House Down), the audience likes her because she’s a likable and spunky lead. She’s, rightfully, the foundation of Wish Upon, and her talents are a good start to a pic that otherwise goes amusingly off the track, and which introduces so many befuddling elements.

Like:

Why does Clare’s father (Ryan Phillippe) trash-pick professionally instead of just getting a job? 

Why does his passion for the saxophone never amount to anything? 

Why doesn’t their next door neighbor (an utterly wasted Sherilyn Fenn) seem to mind at all that she lives directly across the street from a family who has let their lawn grow over with weeds and is covered sky high in piles of trash?

Why is Jerry O’Connell in this for a ten-second cameo where he does nothing but scream?

What’s with the casual prejudice, like having the gay teen boy at a slumber party sleep on the floor half-in/half-out of the closet, or a scene in which Clare bribes a Chinese girl with “wontons”?

As Clare makes increasingly selfish and stupid wishes even after it’s established that they not only come true but KILL ANOTHER PERSON, are we supposed to be screaming “YOU MORON” at the screen?

Wish Upon entertains, there’s no doubt about that, and though it lacks the more interesting directorial flair that John R. Leonetti brought to Annabelle (even if he was borrowing from James Wan), the story at least keeps you engaged in a “how badly is Clare going to fuck up her life?” kind of way.

If nothing else, please watch this for the twist ending, which I imagine was supposed to be very shocking and very sad, but instead results in instant hilarity.

If you have a bratty teen son or daughter who needs a reality check, maybe you could make a case for ever finding a useful reason for Wish Upon. Or, if you were looking for unintentional amusement (or if you’ve always wanted to see Ryan Phillippe pretend to play the saxophone), you could do a lot worse. 

US (2019)

At this point, Jordan Peele is only two films into a career as a director, and already he’s successfully established his own brand – as easily, or even more easily than M. Night Shymalan did when he debuted with The Sixth Sense all those years ago. Effortlessly, Peele has established what a Jordan Peele film looks like, feels like, and what it’s about. This branding, of sorts, becomes apparent as early as the opening credits for his newest film, Us, over which plays an unusual, vocal-driven piece by composer Michael Abels. However, Peele isn’t interested in regurgitating his race-based runaway film debut, Get Out. This time around, despite a similar satirical look at American culture as it pertains to wealth disparities as well as its “work hard/play hard” mentality, Us’s story is more comfortable rooting itself in a higher-concept, almost Twilight Zone-inspired environment. What that means is US more comfortably resides in the horror genre, which, I would think, makes it a bit more accessible to viewers put off by his race-driven debut.

Get Out, while injecting a healthy amount of humor into the horror, is an angry film. Though the anger is well-disguised, it delved heavily into matters regarding racism, and more specifically, cultural appropriation. Us packs more of a visceral punch, leaning more on violence and gore gags than Get Out did, but without rendering it as strictly pulpy but ultimately empty horror. Us has every bit a purpose as Get Out, but it strives toward different goals in presenting that purpose to the audience. 

If you’ve seen Us and delved into the subtext contained within, by now, you’ve likely seen interviews with Peele in which he breaks down the film’s most mooted line of dialogue: when Adelaide Wilson (Lupita Nyong’o) asks her family’s terrifying doppelgangers who they are, her shadow double, named Red, replies simply, “We’re Americans.” What may sound like an abstract answer is a pretty blunt statement from Peele about the origin of his screen monsters. They don’t hail from a distant land, or planet, or another dimension. They are flesh and blood and they exist in the same country as “normal” Americans. They just happen to exist below it instead of on its surface. (I’m assuming that the title Us is a play on “the U.S.”)

Even if you’re not interested in subtext (and Peele’s films are designed to be at least engaging and thrilling if you’re not), Us still packs a hell of a horror wallop. The opening sequence in which a young Adelaide wanders off from her drunken father and across a nighttime beach with a lightning-infused sky behind her feels wrong, but we don’t yet know why. And once she ends up in an isolated carnival house of mirrors where she encounters her equally young double for the first time, it’s unnerving, but again, without relying on anything obviously scary. And as for the doppelgangers’ first long-shot appearance, forget it: it’s fucking eerie, especially when Adelaide asks her husband, Gabe (Winston Duke), what’s out in the yard of their vacation home, and he responds, in total befuddlement, “It’s…a family.”

Putting the horror aside, Us is also unexpectedly poignant and beautiful at times, especially during the final act when Adelaide has her final encounter with her subterranean double, and in an unexpected moment of connection between them, Red tells Adelaide, “If it weren't for you, I never would've danced at all.” In spite of the horror we’ve seen Red and her brood inflict upon Adelaide and her family over the course of Us, we’re still taken aback by this moment of…what is it? Empathy? Understanding? Appreciation? Maybe resentment, as Adelaide dancing on the surface of the earth was the thing that made Red realize just how empty her existence really is?

And, lastly, there’s the humor. As expected, based on Peele’s comedy beginnings and the light touch he administered throughout Get Out, Us also manages to be very funny at times, with Winston Duke’s Gabe stealing nearly every scene he’s in. Tim Heidecker, from the insane Tim And Eric’s Awesome Show, Great Job, and Elizabeth Moss (Mad Men), appear as friends of the Wilson family, which leads to some amusing exchanges between the two, getting a lot of morbid mileage from what appears to be a near-loveless marriage. (That their vacation home is much more opulent than the Wilsons’ is a sly comment on wealth disparity.)

Us is absolutely no sophomore slump. Every bit as worthy as Peele’s celebrated and critically adored debut, and perhaps better, Us is horrific, poignant, and somehow hilarious, solidifying Peele’s place as a fresh new voice in the genre. Whether or nor you’re on board with Peele’s approach to the genre, his is a voice that the genre desperately needs right now, if nothing more than to remind critics and audiences that the genre is capable of so much more than what we often get -- more importantly: that it’s just as deserving of the celebration and conversation as more mainstream genres. 

[Reprinted from the Daily Grindhouse.]