Nope

Yep!

or

Close Encounters of the Herd Kind
 

"Nahum 3:6: I will cast abominable filth upon you, make you vile, and make you a spectacle."

 

Jordan Peele has made you a spectacle—not of you, but for you—and like any great spectacle, sublime or tragic, you can't look away.

 

Nope is about a bunch of things—about people's need for the spectacular, and to believe anything to fulfill it, it's about instinct versus learning, about how neither one can save you when you're considered merely prey, and that Nature has its own "advantage" baked in just like a casino.

 

It's also about how we're all animals, basically, and no sophistication of the cerebral cortex can erase the fact that we're all made of meat. It's like Peele has melded Steven Spielberg's first hits Jaws and Close Encounters with their separate senses of primal terror and ecstatic wonder and smooshed them together to make one over-the-top bonkers film, one that's gorgeous to look at (lensed by Hoyte Van Hoytema) has a great, itchy score, and has enough humor and suspense to make you forget you might be watching a "message" movie. It has "bite."

In Aqua Dulce, California, The Haywood Hollywood Horses training facility squats like a dry oasis. The Haywood's are descendants of the African American jockey photographed in Eadweard Muybridge's The Horse in Motion, one of the very earliest cabinet card sets, which, in turn, was used in early zoopraxiscope presentations, making it the first motion picture projection presentation, some 12 years before Edison, and eight years before the proposals of Louis LePrince in France.

Now, the Haywood ranch is run by Otis Haywood (Keith David—you'll recognize him by his distinctive narrator's voice), who still supplies trained animals for films. One day, out with his son O.J. (Otis Jr. played by Daniel Kaluuya), Otis Sr. is killed when metal objects fall inexplicably out of the sky and he is killed by a nickel plunging through his eye and embedding in his skull. His kids, O.J. and Emerald (Keke Palmer) try to keep the ranch afloat, but it's hard going. O.J. is not the most communicative soul, dealing with horses better than people, most specifically his sister "Em" who is focusing on her own career as a writer, director, producer and less on the old horse business. 

As a result, O.J. is selling off horses to a recent nearby attraction, Jupiter's Claim, a western theme park run by Ricky "Jupe" Park (Steven Yeun), former child actor, and one of the survivors of the infamous "Gordy's Home" Incident—where, years earlier—and, for us, at the beginning of the movie—on the set of a comedy television series, a chimpanzee, startled by a popping helium balloon, viciously attacked the other performers, killing and maiming them. Ricky runs the park, but also exploits the tragedy by charging the obsessed, tours through his personal memorabilia from "The Incident".

Then, one dark and stormy night, O.J. notices that one of the horses is out of the stable, and when he investigates, sees that electricity is shutting down around the area, and a sand tornado touches ground, spooking the horse, and making it run. It's dark and all, but O.J. thinks he sees an object moving through the sky, fast, followed by an eerie sound of terror. When he comes back home, the lights are back on, but he's spooked. Something weird is going on.

Emerald hears O.J.'s story and her impulse is to get it on camera and exploit it—get "the money shot", or, better still, get "the Oprah shot"—so they head to the local Fry's (one's still open?), where their insistence on security cameras that can look UP and can operate once the grid goes down attracts the interest of one of the employees, Angel (Brandon Perea) who helps them install their systems. A conspiracy wonk, he links in to their system on their first night to get "footage" which fails, due to natural and unnatural-to-Earth interference. Another incident brings in the interest of cinematographer Antlers Holst (Michael Wincott), obsessed with obtaining "the impossible shot."

Around about here things get less speculative and more specific, but the group's attempts to record the UFO—"They're called UAP's now"—are intertwined with each participant's specialty skills: Holst's photography skills, O.J.'s training skills, Angel's ability...to be irritating, frankly, and Emerald's inability to stick to the plan. They're disparate attitudes and personalities almost makes them akin to the Pequod's crew hunting "Moby Dick." But, their prickly desert personalities all make their stake-out a multi-layered and evolving plan.

My description of thing makes it sound simple, but Peele's approach is anything but, starting with opening with that "Gordy's Home" incident—which apparently has nothing to do with the movie, except to serve as a background motivation for one of the characters. Then, he goes to that "raining metal" sequence, and jumps forward to some time later, when the ranch is having hard times. It's disorienting and you wonder if you're missing something. You're not. Peele's just building the mystery and tightening the screws, as he builds in details to explain something unexplainable (although a couple of things will never be explained). It's like he's training us.

And it works gang-busters. I defy anyone not to be peering at all points of the screen for a tell-tale sign as you peer along with the characters for a glimpse of the mystery. And that's part of the fun. Peele has, so far, at least, included the audience as part of the drama, making them co-conspirators in his manipulation games. He directs the gaze, but he also indicts the mind. Here, he's made something mesmerizing enough that we can't take our eyes off it. And, ironically, that's just the sort of thing that could doom the characters. One can almost hear Peele cackling in the background at the joke of it all. "Fools! You'd be snapped up in a minute!"

But, Nope is a step forward. Here, he's making a movie that satisfies his need for detail, but boils it down to simple concepts that are achievable (and perceivable) as visually spectacular. His last film, Us, reached for something big, but couldn't quite achieve it because the conception of it was interesting...but not awe-inspiring. Here, he goes for the Big Moments and pulls them off extraordinarily, without overwhelming the tension of the movie. Nope is a step up for a film-maker who's just exploring his abilities, while paying homage to, but not whole-sale stealing from, the movies that inspired him. Peel had me at Get Out, but I'm looking forward to his next one with even higher expectations.

Toy Story 4

The Existential Angst of Contemplating One's Own Shelf Life
or
"Thanks a Lot, Inner-Voice!"

“When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” 

1 Corinthians 13:11

I have a nasty habit of burying my lede. I start a post with what should be the last line of the thing, the zinger. But, I start writing with what I feel is the most important thought and find that when I finish up, the last line falls a bit flat. I'm not happy with it, at least. Should have ended the entry with the first line of it. It disappoints me.

But, I'm gonna do it again, because it's the most important thing to say: Pixar is the most amazing producers of the finest films extant. You fan-boys can have Marvel—their percentage is nowhere near what Pixar manages to do. Marvel's film series usually peter out with the second one. The Harry Potter films were a mixed bag.

And nobody's done what Pixar has done with their Toy Story series—each new chapter of the story is better than the last one, the most recent (that being Toy Story 3) was an emotional wringer and the best of the films.  

Best one, that is, up to that time. Because Toy Story 4 is an improvement over it on all fronts: animation, story, presentation, screenplay, and direction. And it's deeper and more profound than anything we've seen yet, sophisticated in its themes, and makes changes to the characters and the dynamics of established tropes and story assumptions to challenge the audience and bring them along for the ride of growing up.

And it's about toys. Toys, for pity's sake.

And it does all that while still being funny and extraordinarily entertaining to boot (with a snake in it).

When last we left Andy's collection of toys, they had been saved from incineration, and transported by Andy to little Bonnie, a shy 4 year old toddler with a rich inner life. The movie begins in flashback with a crisis: it's raining and Andy has brought in his toys from playing outside. All except one. The mechanical race-car, RC, has been left outside and is struggling to keep from being swept away in a gully-washer. Woody (voiced again by Tom Hanks) organizes a rescue party and with the help of Slinky-dog (voiced by Blake Clark) rescues RC. But, another toy is about to be lost—Bo Peep (voiced by Annie Potts) and her three-headed sheep is being given away as her lamp is no longer needed in Andy's sister's room. Woody tries to rescue her—it's what he does—from being exiled to another home, but Bo Peep will have none of it. She accepts her fate. "Sometimes, toys get lost in the yard or put in the wrong box. It's okay. I'm not Andy's toy. It's time for the next kid." And she gets carted away, while Andy can only watch hopelessly, lying lumped in the car-port in the rain.

Cut to now—and Bonnie's world. Woody organizes the toys—it's what he does—calming their fears as they're consigned to the closet on cleaning day. Bonnie comes back from the dust-up and pulls the toys from their temporary confinement, all except Woody, who can only watch and wonder what's changed.* A lot, it turns out. It's the end of summer, and Bonnie is now five—time for a big transition (there a lot of them in Toy Story 4), as the shy little girl is about to be thrust into the world of an unprotective collective—kindergarten, and she is required to go to "orientation." Bonnie has always been a shy child, tremulously so. And the prospect of going to kindergarten without a parental leg to hide behind is devastating to her, causing a melt-down. What she needs is a sheriff to come to the rescue—or, at least, that's what Woody thinks—so he stashes himself in her back-pack, a stowaway to school. 

It's a scary place with other kids, kids without borders or boundaries and unchecked id's. When she sits down for activities, another child swipes all her arts supplies. Woody observes all this and manages to find a way to sneak out of his hiding place and toss Bonnie with supplies in the trash. She's inspired to take a stick, a spork, pipe-cleaners, and some play-doh and makes her own toy and companion—"Forky" (voiced by a wonderful Tony Hale)—who manages to sustain Bonnie through the day and give her a sense of accomplish.

Good enough. But, when Bonnie gets home ("I finished kindergarten!!" "Uh...honey?"), Woody introduces Forky to the other toys.

But, Forky has issues. He's a bit pre-verbal and can't quite see himself as a toy, but, rather as trash. It's an instinctual fixation and he must be restrained from constantly throwing himself in the nearest dumpster. Leave that to Woody, who has his own instinctual fixation—it inspires composer Randy Newman (Yay!) to write a lovely gospel song entitled "I Can't Let You Throw Yourself Away" exposing Woody as a plasticene guardian angel, a caretaker—and he wails to Buzz Lightyear (voiced by Tim Allen) "I don't know if you remember what it was like when Andy was a kid, but, I don't remember it being this hard!"

A road trip with Bonnie and her parents as a final Summer fling before school provides ample opportunity for Forky to trash himself and for Woody to come to the rescue, whether the little spork wants him to or not. It also provides him the opportunity to re-unite with Bo Peep, who has changed considerably after leaving Andy's house and, ultimately, escaping from an antiques shop called "Second Chances" (heh).

As Bo tells Woody, "I don't want to sit on a shelf waiting for my life to happen." But, Woody is in a different place. For Woody, it's all about The Child, or any toy in crisis that might adversely effect said child. It always has been. And so much of his time has been about taking care of other's needs—he's taken his fake sheriff's badge too literally—and the movie spends much of its time with Woody coming to the rescue and realizing that seems to be his sole reason for existence, because he knows no other pattern of behavior. 

Bo provides another perspective; she has a good life on her own without the need for a child in her life. But, Woody is stuck in his ways—there are only so many phrases in his talk-box if you want a literalness to the concept. It's all in service to the child. It always has been and always will be.

That's the crux of the movie: a toy's need to be needed, and the damage that such activity can cause to one's own shelf-life. Along the way, Toy Story 4 delves into parallel stories of toys' needs to be given purpose—of the toys at the antiques shop waiting to be given a chance at being taken home, and a pair of prizes that never seem to be claimed at a shooting arcade at a nearby carnival—all the while the toys are working overtime trying to get Forky back to Bonnie.

The major story is at the antiques store, which is given a creepy atmosphere recalling Kubrick's The Shining—at one point, an old 78 plays "Midnight, the Stars, and You"—with the long-abandoned Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks), a talking doll with a damaged voice-box that she believes is keeping her from being taken home to some needy child. She keeps Forky hostage in the hopes of taking Woody's so she can have her chance, and she runs the antiques store like her own personal führerbunker with demented ventriloquist's dummies as her shock-troops. Creepy.

Then, there are the plush arcade animals, Ducky and Bunny (voiced hilariously by Keegan Michael-Key and Jordan Peele), who've been hanging around as shooting gallery prizes for so long they've developed something of an attitude waiting for kids to just hit the damn targets. They get roped into the whole "Second Chances" plot and they have a rather aggressive way of handling problems. Probably been at the range too long. Also aiding is a Canadian stunt-toy called Duke Kaboom, whose stunt skills are used for an elaborate rescue, and who is voiced by Keanu Reeves, still nailing the mock-heroic voice.

Pixar ups the artistic quality a notch—the world is a bit more complicated and messier with dust-bunnies, cob-webs and dust-motes that dance in sun-beams, little details that one didn't realize were missing until the animators made it essential (Andy, too, in the flashback sequences looks far more real than the crude animator grids in the first movie allowed). But, it's also more sophisticated in the way the film questions the series trope—that a toy is useful only if it's needed by its possessor. This one dispels that idea as a given and makes it relevant, not only to the film's characters, but to the larger issues of the audience's as well...as we all (as Bob Dylan observed) gotta serve somebody. And that's if we're a caretaker, or just a work-a-day 9 to 5'er, a Mom or a sheriff. Yeah, we gotta serve. But we also gotta know that we're not just what we work at. We gotta know when the job is done. We've got to know ourselves.

Remember Toy Story 3? Remember how it had the perfect ending, even though it was kind of sad and changed things? How it worked outside your comfort zone, but you also knew it was the perfect ending for the story? Turns out that it was for its time. But, another story needed to be told. We just didn't know it yet. And Toy Story 4 tells it with such care and such skill...and wisdom—without taking its eyes off the entertainment value—that you might think it's a perfect ending. 

You might even think—like me—that it was even better than Toy Story 3, which, as I said at the beginning, was the best of the series so far. And I wept like a baby at it.

I'm at the point, now, where I wouldn't mind another Toy Story movie, so good are these creators at telling a story and making it essential. Making movies that matter and increasingly raising the bar...for themselves and for us.

So exceptionally well done.

* He is consoled by some other toys, which Pixar casts with some essential voices—Alan Oppenheimer, Carol Burnett, Carl Reiner, Mel Brooks, and Betty White. That seems so right. Maybe not essential, but a lovely gesture.

** Newman does another brilliant score with two new amazing songs, and I always imagine Seth McFarland gritting his teeth and thinking "I write better stuff than THAT." No. No, he doesn't. But he tries so hard to do something better than what Newman seems to do so effortlessly. That's because Newman is a genius who makes it look easy. McFarland just studies and copies...and comes up short. Professional jealousy is a terrible thing...and not very professional

Not an official poster--but very funny.

Us

You, Me, Us...and Especially "Them"
or
Defending Yourself Against Your Evil Twin

Jeremiah 11:11--Therefore this is what the Lord says: ‘I will bring on them a disaster they cannot escape. Although they cry out to me, I will not listen to them.’

"It's not about 'race,' is it?" asked the friend who knew I'd seen Us. "Could be," I said. "But, probably not," I repeated. And then I started to laugh. 

And that's about the best response I can give to that question. All of it. Even the laugh.

Because if you're saying it's just about race relations in America, you're giving short-shrift to Jordan Peele, its writer/producer/director, for Us is a different experience than his first film, the crowd-pleasing Get Out; its reach is far greater, is not so "on the nose" as his previous film, and may leave a great deal of the audience wondering what in the heck he is doing with this one and, as a result, may find it frustrating, obtuse, and stretching credulity more than a bit.

I had the same experience. For instance, after its enigmatic opening (set in 1986) that starts with a teasing set-up with text, a couple of commercials from the era broadcast on television, and a visit by young Adelaide Thomas (at this point, she's played by Madison Curry), to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk with her dysfunctional parents and a totally ignored candy apple and an unsupervised visit to a hall of mirrors (where something shocking happens), we get the Main Title sequence that starts on a caged white rabbit* and slowly, ever so slowly, moves out to show more white rabbits...and just when you start thinking "where are brown bunnies?" well, there's a brown bunny. And I started thinking "Am I trying to make this about race?" Yes, I probably was. So, I turned off my critic-mind, looking for "meaning" and watched the movie.

Which is scary.

Adelaide Thomas is now Adelaide Wilson (and played by Lupita Nyong'o) and she and her family—husband Gabe (Winston Duke), daughter Zora (Shahadi Wright Joseph) and odd little brother Jason (Evan Alex), who always wears a monster mask, are on their way to visit the old Thomas family home in Santa Cruz. That Santa Cruz, where she had the unfortunate incident on the Boardwalk that gave her PTSD and that she has risen above. It's a normal family, Dad is relaxed and the butt of family jokes and rolling eyes, but he's amiable.

Adelaide is tentative about the trip, but not tentative about being with her family. Her experience at the Boardwalk has left a lifelong impression and she's anxious about it. Gabe couldn't be more excited, They're going to meet up with their friends, the upwardly mobile Tylers (Tim Heidecker and Elizabeth Moss) and their twin daughters, and he has plans to buy himself a boat—which Adelaide and the kids think is just nuts, but he's excited at the prospect of his new toy..

The Wilsons' trip to the Boardwalk, despite Adelaide's misgivings comes off with only one hitch—Jason goes missing on the beach. He just went to the Port-a-Potty for a moment. But when everyone realizes he's missing, Adelaide flies into a panic, finally finding him, standing transfixed at a homeless man on the beach, hands outstretched, holding a pair of scissors, blood dripping from his fingertips. This is enough for the shaken Adelaide to stop from going over to the Tyler's place après-beach.

Better to spend a quiet evening at home. Man plans. God...well, God has nothing to do with it (if you read your bible*).

That night, everybody's settling down about 11:11 pm, when four figures appear at the top of their driveway, blocking it. Gabe goes out to investigate, first being all-reasonable, but there's no response from up the drive. So, he escalates, going out with a baseball and a threat ("Y'all wanna get crazy? We gonna get crazy!").

It's at that point, that the group starts to move, splintering off in different directions and Gabe, wisely, sprints back inside the house. But, that doesn't prevent the strongest of the four from breaking the lock on the door and injuring Gabe's leg with the very bat he was using to defend himself.

The four figures enter the house and confront the Wilson's; they're malignant versions of each of them, dressed in red jumpsuits, communicating in animal grunts and holding a pair of ornate golden scissors. The Wilson's are scared, but incredulous at their malevolent twins. Adelaide asks her counter-part "Who are you?" Her wide-eyed doppelganger answers with the film's most chilling line: "We...are...Americans."

They are "The Tethered," duplicates who have been created, who live underground (in tunnels, access-ways, mines, and other "purposeless" channels—as mentioned in the opening text). The Tethered live parallel lives with their above-ground counterparts, but opposite to them in conditions; where they've lived above-ground in the sunlight, eating hot food, The Tethered have never seen the Sun, consuming cold food (them rabbits), cold and raw. While the Sun-dwellers live in luxury, The Tethered live in misery. The Tethered have no souls, and as the actions of the ones above affect their fates, they have decided to come to the surface and...sever ties.

Each of the family-members is pursued, dragged, paired off with their counter-parts to do them in, but each of the family-members get the better of their twins and eventually find out that they're not an isolated case—the whole country is under attack from this soulless army and the Wilson's make a plan to head to Mexico to avoid the destruction.

But...it's a horror movie, kids, and nothing is ever that easy in a horror movie.

Peele has set up a conceit that probably requires too much explanation and back-story, but it's a fascinating little metaphor for the struggles of class and of people confronting their worst selves and doing battle with—or being over come by—"it." It's a perfect little metaphor, but it's just a tough little conceit to swallow when it has so many unanswered questions of the "who, what, where, why" variety. But, especially "why." Why do this? Why create such a class of people and to what ends? The questions go unresolved because—really, does it matter? Do we really care why The Birds go crazy in Hitchcock's film? It's sure to be a let-down, not living up to the thrills depicted on-screen. The situation is what it is for the surface-dwellers and any delay or questioning of it is a momentum-killer and might cause anyone in the film to get scissored in the neck. You just keep fighting, Wilsons. We'll hold all questions until your're done.

Except, of course, for the final twist at the end which will change everything you think about the movie.

Except for one certainty: Lupita Nyong'o is one hell of an actress. After her startling performance (and Oscar win) for 12 Years a Slave, she has been sadly under-utilized, playing Black Panther's girl-friend (ferchrissakes) and (worse!) a motion-captured wizened alien in the new Star Wars Trilogy. Us, however, has her in full-force, playing two roles: one, the brave warrior, the momma-tiger, and the other, the evil step-sister who's the theatrical villain of the piece. Not only is she playing against type, she's playing it against herself—and neither role is given short-shrift. Jesus, I hope people remember this performance come awards time—the whole movie should be marked "Submitted For Your Approval."

It's the corner-stone of a clever little piece of cautionary fable about how the scariest thing you might find is in the mirror, and conquering it.

Or...do you?

Nyong'o a Nyong'o: "We have met the enemy and they is us."

*

10:1 Hear ye the word which the Lord speaketh unto you, O house of Israel:

2 Thus saith the Lord, Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them.

3 For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman, with the axe.

4 They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not.

5 They are upright as the palm tree, but speak not: they must needs be borne, because they cannot go. Be not afraid of them; for they cannot do evil, neither also is it in them to do good.

6 Forasmuch as there is none like unto thee, O Lord; thou art great, and thy name is great in might.

7 Who would not fear thee, O King of nations? for to thee doth it appertain: forasmuch as among all the wise men of the nations, and in all their kingdoms, there is none like unto thee.

8 But they are altogether brutish and foolish: the stock is a doctrine of vanities.

9 Silver spread into plates is brought from Tarshish, and gold from Uphaz, the work of the workman, and of the hands of the founder: blue and purple is their clothing: they are all the work of cunning men.

10 But the Lord is the true God, he is the living God, and an everlasting king: at his wrath the earth shall tremble, and the nations shall not be able to abide his indignation.

11 Thus shall ye say unto them, The gods that have not made the heavens and the earth, even they shall perish from the earth, and from under these heavens.

12 He hath made the earth by his power, he hath established the world by his wisdom, and hath stretched out the heavens by his discretion.

13 When he uttereth his voice, there is a multitude of waters in the heavens, and he causeth the vapours to ascend from the ends of the earth; he maketh lightnings with rain, and bringeth forth the wind out of his treasures.

14 Every man is brutish in his knowledge: every founder is confounded by the graven image: for his molten image is falsehood, and there is no breath in them.

15 They are vanity, and the work of errors: in the time of their visitation they shall perish.

16 The portion of Jacob is not like them: for he is the former of all things; and Israel is the rod of his inheritance: The Lord of hosts is his name.

17 Gather up thy wares out of the land, O inhabitant of the fortress.

18 For thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will sling out the inhabitants of the land at this once, and will distress them, that they may find it so.

19 Woe is me for my hurt! my wound is grievous; but I said, Truly this is a grief, and I must bear it.

20 My tabernacle is spoiled, and all my cords are broken: my children are gone forth of me, and they are not: there is none to stretch forth my tent any more, and to set up my curtains.

21 For the pastors are become brutish, and have not sought the Lord: therefore they shall not prosper, and all their flocks shall be scattered.

22 Behold, the noise of the bruit is come, and a great commotion out of the north country, to make the cities of Judah desolate, and a den of dragons.

23 O Lord, I know that the way of man is not in himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps.

24 O Lord, correct me, but with judgment; not in thine anger, lest thou bring me to nothing.

25 Pour out thy fury upon the heathen that know thee not, and upon the families that call not on thy name: for they have eaten up Jacob, and devoured him, and consumed him, and have made his habitation desolate.

11:1 The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord saying,

2 Hear ye the words of this covenant, and speak unto the men of Judah, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem;

3 And say thou unto them, Thus saith the Lord God of Israel; Cursed be the man that obeyeth not the words of this covenant,

4 Which I commanded your fathers in the day that I brought them forth out of the land of Egypt, from the iron furnace, saying, Obey my voice, and do them, according to all which I command you: so shall ye be my people, and I will be your God:

5 That I may perform the oath which I have sworn unto your fathers, to give them a land flowing with milk and honey, as it is this day. Then answered I, and said, So be it, O Lord.

6 Then the Lord said unto me, Proclaim all these words in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem, saying, Hear ye the words of this covenant, and do them.

7 For I earnestly protested unto your fathers in the day that I brought them up out of the land of Egypt, even unto this day, rising early and protesting, saying, Obey my voice.

8 Yet they obeyed not, nor inclined their ear, but walked every one in the imagination of their evil heart: therefore I will bring upon them all the words of this covenant, which I commanded them to do: but they did them not.

9 And the Lord said unto me, A conspiracy is found among the men of Judah, and among the inhabitants of Jerusalem.

10 They are turned back to the iniquities of their forefathers, which refused to hear my words; and they went after other gods to serve them: the house of Israel and the house of Judah have broken my covenant which I made with their fathers.

11 Therefore thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will bring evil upon them, which they shall not be able to escape; and though they shall cry unto me, I will not hearken unto them.

12 Then shall the cities of Judah and inhabitants of Jerusalem go, and cry unto the gods unto whom they offer incense: but they shall not save them at all in the time of their trouble.

13 For according to the number of thy cities were thy gods, O Judah; and according to the number of the streets of Jerusalem have ye set up altars to that shameful thing, even altars to burn incense unto Baal.

14 Therefore pray not thou for this people, neither lift up a cry or prayer for them: for I will not hear them in the time that they cry unto me for their trouble.

15 What hath my beloved to do in mine house, seeing she hath wrought lewdness with many, and the holy flesh is passed from thee? when thou doest evil, then thou rejoicest.

16 The Lord called thy name, A green olive tree, fair, and of goodly fruit: with the noise of a great tumult he hath kindled fire upon it, and the branches of it are broken.

17 For the Lord of hosts, that planted thee, hath pronounced evil against thee, for the evil of the house of Israel and of the house of Judah, which they have done against themselves to provoke me to anger in offering incense unto Baal.

18 And the Lord hath given me knowledge of it, and I know it: then thou shewedst me their doings.

19 But I was like a lamb or an ox that is brought to the slaughter; and I knew not that they had devised devices against me, saying, Let us destroy the tree with the fruit thereof, and let us cut him off from the land of the living, that his name may be no more remembered.

20 But, O Lord of hosts, that judgest righteously, that triest the reins and the heart, let me see thy vengeance on them: for unto thee have I revealed my cause.

21 Therefore thus saith the Lord of the men of Anathoth, that seek thy life, saying, Prophesy not in the name of the Lord, that thou die not by our hand:

22 Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts, Behold, I will punish them: the young men shall die by the sword; their sons and their daughters shall die by famine:


23 And there shall be no remnant of them: for I will bring evil upon the men of Anathoth, even the year of their visitation.

* Peele has said in interviews that he also thinks rabbits are scary. Cute, sure. Ciddly, okay. But, they creep him out. And that sense of instinctual unease, and his ability to use it, is one of his unique gifts as a film-maker.

Get Out (2017)

Horror is Best in Black and White
or
"White Girls Do It To You Every Time"

I'm not a big fan of horror movies (I don't see everything), but the genre is extremely useful. Look at a new horror movie and the chances are good that you'll see the debut of an upcoming director fast-tracked to "Big" movies because of their sophomore efforts keeping the budget tight and the shots fast and purposeful. Horror is a great training ground for the movie art of manipulation and getting a rise out of the audience and the list of directors who got noticed slogging through the horror genre are long and frequently surprising. And when horror films are very very good (at being bad), they'll explore sub-texts of society and the psyche, sometimes overtly, or sometimes merely tickling a deeply recessed part of our alligator-brains to make the heart jump and our flight-or-flight instincts surface. Horror reduces us to the basics, removing all the drama and the time-wasting melodrama. Horror comes down to the primary drive of survival.

But survival from what makes it interesting.

After a prologue in which a young man is abducted in a somewhat pedestrian suburban neighborhood,* we focus on Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya in a great, understated performance) who is having a certain amount of trepidation over the weekend trip he's taking with his girlfriend Rose Armitage (Allison Williams). It is the usual anxiety any boyfriend might have going to meet his lover's parents, but there's also the added color that he's black—the way the film seats it, the problem is always that Chris is black, not that Rose is white, but the film is rooted in Chris' perspective and Rose has never brought up the issue with her parents, despite her protestations that there will be no "problems" ("He's going to tell you that he would have voted for Obama a third time" and, of course, he does). His buddy with the TSA, Rod (LilRey Howery) thinks it is a bad idea, very bad. Any time a black man goes to the house to visit his white girlfriend's parents is a BAD idea, bruh.

But that's not the only issue. Chris has insecurities and this is just the one on the closest burner. He suspects Rose might be cheating on him, despite her protestations—she protests a lot, you'll find during this movie—but the suspicion persists, groundless as it might be, to the point where it clouds anything else and everything is refracted through that jealous filter.

Chris shouldn't have worried about the parents—they are affluent liberals who are guilty as sin: Papa Dean (Bradley Whitford) is a semi-retired neurosurgeon (and yes, he WOULD have voted for a third term for Obama); Mama Missy (Catherine Keener) is a psychologist/therapist specializing in anti-smoking therapies. They couldn't be more welcoming...with the tightest smiles without benefit of Botox injections. When brother Jeremy (Caleb Landry Jones) joins the party, he's a bit of a creep, but everybody thinks he's a creep, so it's okay. 

Then, there are the servants, who are "part of the family"—they've been around since Dean's parents needed care-taking and the Armitages couldn't bear to part with them, even though they "hate how it looks." Walter (Marcus Henderson) is a groundskeeper, who keeps an eye on Chris, and Georgina, the maid, (Betty Gabriel, who plays creepy as hell and has one of the best repetitive line readings in a movie—"Oh no, no, no, no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-No!"—since Kevin Spacey told Alan Arkin to go to lunch in Glengarry Glen Ross) is a hovering presence. Chris finds them vaguely threatening. "It's not so much WHAT they say, but how they say it..." he tells Rose.

The same could be said for all the guests at a weekend family function—it's not what they say so much, as how unctuously they say it—a little too cheery, a little too welcoming, no conflict, just a little too "TOO". Then, a night-time walk around the grounds makes Chris extraordinarily uncomfortable, and a resulting chat with Missy over tea gets extraordinarily weird. Maybe, she hypnotizes him, sending him to a weird nether-world she calls "the sunken place." Maybe it happened. Maybe it was a dream. Whatever it was, he doesn't want to smoke any more.

Get Out is the work of Jordan Peele, one of the brilliant sketch comedy team Keye and Peele, late of their self-titled Comedy Central show, and there is comedy here, of a particularly cerebral kind—terror and laughter, tragedy and comedy being Arbus twins of each other, each evoking honest instinctive reactions. As a new director, he knows he can get a small-budgeted project green-lit in the horror field, just as he knows that horror doesn't have to have a big budget to sneak in Big Ideas, that it can be as simple a matter as casting an African-American actor as the most competent-guy-in-the-room (as George Romero did in Night of the Living Dead—a move that was made because Duane Jones was the best actor in the cast). Here, Peele makes the "minority experience" real for anyone not living "in the sociological skin," presenting the foundation of dread that the suspicion of the targeted experience on a daily basis with the ignition of blue lights in the rear-view.

"Give me the keys, Rose"

Get Out is smart, funny, and horrific in a wild, bizarre way. Peele has plans for other horror films that one hopes are as wild in concept, but steeped in the psychological reality that this one is. They could do a lot of good by doing bad as all Get Out.

* Interestingly, it is the second use of "Run, Rabbit, Run" (after its use in the bombing sequence of Miss Peregrine's School for Unusual Children) in the last few months. References keep folding back on themselves in movies, just as there are frequently competitions between similarly themed movies that open nearly simultaneously.