Marquee credits overshadowing all else has been a thing for a while—see the various shows and films that plastered Spielberg’s name even if he was just in the producer role, or things trumpeting the involvement of such and such a writer even if sat in a meeting for forty minutes and sipped a glass of water one time. In this case, things are heavily banking on the involvement of Jordan Peele, since hey, have you heard of Justin Tipping before? Regardless, I must admit I was intrigued by the promise of Him—a sports-themed horror film delving into the very real self-destructive mindsets that accompany such things? Perhaps something like The Substance but focusing on male-focused self-inadequacy? How does it turn out—well…
Tyriq Withers plays an up-and-coming American football player whose career is knocked off course by an injury—following some recovery, he’s sent to train harder with soon to retire legend Cam, played by Marlon Wayans (and it’s so amusing to compare him to his roles in things like Don’t Be A Menace). While Cam’s training starts off straightforward enough, things start going off the deep end when he starts to pull at Wither’s need to succeed, combined with all the toxic masculinity that can arise in the often cultist world of big-name sports.
At first, it’s interesting—as it goes on we have more of a surreal bent to it, seemingly connected to our lead’s head injury. Witness the real-life cases of personality changes arising from such things—the most famous, arguably, is OJ Simpson, and we all know what happened there.
Combine with this with performances and cinematography that, even if the script jumps about a little at first, are all top-notch—Wayans is surprisingly good here, mood-swinging from brotherly to maniacal, and there’s moments directed well enough to make you wince. For the first two-thirds, the film definitely had my attention, seemingly delving into the demented self-destructiveness of chasing physical perfection (and the equally pointless obsession of proving you have a Y chromosome)
But then we get near the end, and that’s where it got frustrating. All the things I mentioned before…turn out to have not much payoff, and it ends on a very literal note that gives the impression that the writer suddenly found himself at deadline and took the bluntest route possible to wrap it all up. We were close, so close to something that could’ve been a modern classic, and it falls flat on its face with something that’s obviously aiming for the catharsis of Get Out but didn’t quite pull it off how Peele himself did.
It’s an example of how important a script that’s properly tightened can be—and that’s not to say it’s worthless, or you won’t find any enjoyment, but with how genuinely well done some aspects are, it just makes the flubbed ones stand out more, like a star player dropping the ball just before touchdown. Take it for what it is, but keep expectations in check.
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