Jordan Peele
Noi

Can genre film and political pamphlet coexist? Or rather, does it make sense for them to coexist? These are more or less the questions that arise from watching Us, the new work by the director of Get Out. And the answers are anything but obvious.

At first, it may seem like a great idea to embellish a thriller that's a bit horror with filigrees that speak of social differences, first and second-class citizens (and thus, if you will, of the north and south of the world, migration, borders, social classes). It seems to give vitality to a story that would otherwise end up in oblivion like yet another forgettable film. So, Peele knows how to get noticed, and the success of Get Out is undeniable proof of that.

However, letting the themes and reflections distributed between scenes of blood, chases, killings, and fires settle, the ever-increasing nagging doubt arises that the two strands are irreconcilable, and they undergo a cold fusion that serves only as a pretext to unleash the slaughter. Since everything is played on a metaphor that never unfolds, it is up to the viewer to grasp the right holds to carry forward the political discourse.

But in the end, this discourse is simplistic, a pointillist provocation rather than an analysis or reflection worthy of the name. Also because the conceptual framework must reckon with the mechanics of a thriller, where people whack each other. Thus, the metaphor allows itself countless pauses to make room for the genre.

In the finale, a final twist sheds new light on the matter, but it may be too cryptic to be interpreted according to the director's intentions (what I believe they are, but I wouldn’t bet on it). And in any case, these are still very general, obvious matters: this film certainly wasn’t needed to tell us that we are all equal human beings, but some are better off than others.

So why a passing grade? Simply for the quality of the filmic weave. The choice of music alone makes it worth watching. But there are also remarkable, mischievous sequences, often playing on the contrasts between the soundtrack and the images (pop song and macabre scene, menacing orchestrations and small comic gags, etc.), or well-studied shots, some straight from the cinema textbook. And then, I don't feel like failing a work like this that knows how to return to more human rhythms, that doesn’t always consume everything in a frenzy, but values emptiness as much as fullness. The most terrifying scene, for example, is based on immobility.

In short, good cinema is good even without politics. Remember that, dear Jordan Peele.

6/10