"I am him."
Though Universal would have you believe that Him, the new horror film starring Marlon Wayans and Tyriq Withers, is a Jordan Peele original, it is not. The mastermind of social commentary horror is merely a producer. Instead, this filmis the product of Justin Tipping, a seasoned television director who was hand-picked by Peele on the strength of his 2016 feature film debut, Kicks.
Cameron Cade has only one mission in life: to be the best player in the world. Nothing else matters to the elite college sports star who has returned home to prepare for the upcoming Combine. Genre fans will recognize Tyriq Withers, whose lean, chiseled frame was on full display earlier this summer in Jennifer Kaytin Robinson's I Know What You Did Last Summer. While many will swoon over his body, it's hard to ignore that his frame doesn't scream athlete. Fit? Absolutely. Future greatest of the sport? Simply put, no.
Current GOAT Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans) has eight championship rings to his name. However, his contract is coming up, and the San Antonio Saviors are seeking a new QB1—someone worthy enough to fill White's shoes. The timing couldn't be better for Cade to rise to the occasion and fulfill his dreams. A week of training with White at his isolated compound could solidify his trajectory. It could also expose his shortcomings.
Though the film begins as a football movie, it quickly pivots as Tipping embraces the high-brow approach of Peele, trading the on-field collisions for the more intimate psychological battles between a mentor and his pupil. Wayans is an undeniable force, elevating the actions of White as he torments with Cade in a war that often sees razor-thin margins between life and death.
But even with his premiere performance, Wayans is unable to propel the film as Tipping gets lost within the cinematography, sacrificing story for visual intrigue, ultimately giving viewers a bland, predictable, and confusing final product. Those who love football will struggle with the lack of authenticity surrounding the sport. Those who thrive on Peele's elevated horror will likely be disappointed by the inconsistencies that emerge throughout.
Tipping relies heavily on the high-brow themes, which are prominent. While Cade has been conditioned from an early age to dream big and never lose sight of the pigskin, he never appears to be in control of himself. Shirtless or naked at least half the time, he is objectified for his body, never seeming comfortable in his own skin, as White puts his muscles through the ringer, highlighting the importance of rest, recovery, and any other trick necessary to keep the body performing long past the point of exhaustion.
Over the course of the week, several jaw-dropping events occur that seem too absurd to be coincidental. As Cade navigates his way through the absurdities, the film jumps forward, leaving viewers in a confused state of unknowing as they are forced to process what is and is not real. The mental tug of war proves distracting as White continues to torment his trainee, never fully revealing his intentions regarding the highly gifted quarterback.
From the smashing of Cam's skull after practice to the grand finale in which the team's owners appear in literal pigskin masks, Him covers the spectrum of discomfort. And while we only see the world through Cade's eyes, we are never entirely confident that the events on screen are really happening. How much can you truly trust an athlete with a head injury? Not to mention the distorted levels of paranoia and drugs that constantly plague our main protagonist throughout his visit.
People steadily die in this movie, and no one seems to care. Maybe it's a larger metaphor for the way we treat professional athletes as they suffer through career-ending injuries. Perhaps it's a look at how quickly we move on after a high-profile player announces their retirement. Much like the rest of the story, things are unclear. But then again, it doesn't really matter. Neither a sports movie nor a horror film, Him is a bit all over the place. And at the end of it all, we're uninvested in our characters and unaffected by their eventual outcome. If anything, we're just thankful it's over.
