Global Comment

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Us is a stellar entry in the hood horror art form

A still from us, featuring terrified characters.

So, you enjoyed Get Out but maybe that movie centered whiteness a little too much for you. Maybe you found it a little too neat and on the nose after the fact.

Well, I’m happy to announce that Us is the movie for you!

Yes, Us is great in its deliberate obtuseness and concealing of answers, using good ol’ uncanny valley and fear of the unknown to scare the blankity-blank out of the audience. There’s a lot of social themes to dissect as well, but ultimately I just want to praise the film for subtly addressing issues of race and class without centering white folks as the topic of discussion. Can’t we talk about the oppressed without focusing on the narrative of the oppressor? Eh?

To that end, watching a scary movie that’s quite black in a (sold out mind you) theater full of black and brown folks made me weirdly nostalgic. I couldn’t quite place my finger on why. Because I’ve seen all these tropes before in other movies? Halfway through as I watched people die to the sounds of NWA’s seminal hit “Fuck tha Police”, it dawned on me: this… is a hood horror film.

What comes to mind when you think of hood horror? Is it the seminal Tales from the Hood? Bones? Hood of the Living Dead? These are all valid films that tackle urban topics – the concerns of black and brown folks living under threat of police violence, poverty, deteriorating health, and the shadow of gentrification.

Okay, maybe Us isn’t quite as heavy handed as Tales from the Hood and probably borrows more from Videodrome than the Leprechaun in Da Hood duology. But it’s not a huge stretch to see the connections, most evident in the choice of soundtrack. A lot of attention has been focused on the ultra creepy rendition of the hood classic “I Got 5 On It” as performed by Luniz. Talk about uncanny valley. The Psycho-esque strings and heavy drops in the orchestral remix take familiar, comfortable song to chill to and turns it into a harrowing, gothic experience that conjures up horrible memories of blood-stained Lupita Nyong’o in a claustrophobic hallway. And… rabbits. Just when I got over them from The Favourite. Generations of film critics are going to be dissecting a song about drug transactions in the same way that I document the layers of Warren G and Nate Dogg’s “Regulate”.

Like many of the themes in the movie, it is a little weird and uncomfortable to see so many people suddenly treat west coast rap like an objet d’art in a way not seen since we were writing essays on 2Pac lyrics. Are we excited or are white critics gawking at things they don’t understand again? I’m discomforted, but like everything Jordan Peele does it’s deliberate. As we saw with Key & Peele and even with Get Out,  we know he loves elevating nostalgia to its highest form. And it’s nostalgia from his childhood, and despite our age difference Jordan and I share a hell of a lot more in common than, say, me and Wes Anderson.

The song’s presence in the movie feels like a comment on authenticity. Whether that comment is good or bad is up to the viewer. Look, Winston Duke and Lupita Nyong’o are the type of cute, well-adjusted, “normal” couple that black folks aren’t allowed to be. Similar to some of the criticisms of Chris in Get Out, it doesn’t feel like they represent a particular black experience, or at least not one that we’re familiar with. Even I felt alienated at times, like I was watching another white couple on screen because I couldn’t quite put myself in their shoes. Shouldn’t I be happy to see a black family on screen not reduced to stereotypes? It took me quite some time into the movie to really feel anything beyond universal movies, and I had to ask myself why. Can I just not relate to that type of normalcy or have I been conditioned not to? Told that I can’t so I won’t?

Building on that alienation, there’s a chase for authenticity that lingers throughout the movie, even as we rush to the shocking climax and then a little beyond. The obsession for “authenticity” and authentic experiences has been ruining cultures from food to language and appearance for a while. Us challenges the viewer to ask what is real, starting with “I Got 5 On It” and ending with the seminal NWA hit “Fuck tha Police”. Is it a song about dope or a childhood ditty that you just realized is about dope? Spoiler: that song has always been about weed, but you can’t blame Gabe for trying. Likewise, part of the mystery surrounding Adelaide comes down to: which experience is truly authentic? I still shudder to think of some of the scenes in the movie that made me question whether the so-called authentic experience was the better one.

Thinking about all this takes me back. It’s what I’ve always wanted to discuss with my little direct-to-Blockbuster shoestring budget blaxploitation movies. About how we can elevate the art form. The discussion and analysis around Us has been fascinating – even the lukewarm takes. At least we’re talking. Horror has been alright for a while so Peele isn’t really coming to save it, and he doesn’t have to. We probably needed Us a lot more than the genre needed it but good Lord did I need it. And it’s going right up on my shelf next to my illustrious copy of Hood of Horrors because its earned that spot, damnit.