Cast: Daniel Kaluuya, Allison Williams, Bradley Whitford, Caleb Landry Jones, Stephen Root, Lakeith Stanfield, Catherine Keener
Director: Jordan Peele
Writer: Jordan Peele
Get Out is one of those movies that works on so many levels in so many different yet complementary ways that it defies any easy categorisation or labels. It’s a comedy, but not in a laugh-out-loud sense. You can hardly bring yourself to laugh because of the horror of it all. Yet it’s not the kind of horror movie where you get an escapist thrill from the scares, because the story is far too relevant to the world we live in. It is a social commentary, but it is a wildly entertaining one that expertly delivers its message without beating us over the head with it. It is a movie made by a director with a deep understanding of the state of African-Americans in the USA today and talented enough to present that point in a way that is both enjoyable and terrifying. The most prevalent and iconic image in the film is that of a young black man crying. The film weeps for the world that made a movie like this necessary, and while watching it you won’t know whether to laugh, cry, or scream.
The movie follows Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya), a black photographer, who has been dating his white girlfriend Rose Armitage (Allison Williams) for some months. He reluctantly agrees to accompany her on a weekend retreat at her suburban childhood home to meet her family, uncertain of how warm his welcome will really be. There he meets her neurosurgeon father Dean (Bradley Whitford), her psychiatrist mother Missy (Catherine Keener) and her brother Jeremy (Caleb Landry Jones). Together they make a liberal, left-leaning white family who continuously make awkward comments about how totally cool they are with black people (“If I could, I would have voted for Obama for a third term” says Dean). Chris however starts to get the sense that something is really off about this place when he meets the family’s black employees Walter (Marcus Henderson) and Georgina (Betty Gabriel), both of whom seem eerily compliant with their roles of servitude. Chris shares his concerns with his best friend Rod Williams (Lil Rel Howery), who is convinced that something twisted and sinister is going on, and the longer Chris sticks around the more he starts to agree.
The premise then is that Peele has taken liberal, suburban racism, and turned it into a horror film. As a director he exhibits a fluent command over the language of horror cinema and is able to convey an uncanny sense of terror and paranoia in this seemingly innocent, vanilla setting. It’s in the way that the camera lingers on some people and things for just a little too long. It’s in the imagery that is just sinister enough to make us feel like something is definitely off about this place but is also subtle enough that we quite cannot quite put our fingers on it, like with the row of black cars full of white people arriving at the driveway. It’s in the downplayed, natural performances delivered by the actors that somehow make their characters seem all the more menacing. It’s the air of ambiguous dread that echoes movies like Rosemary’s Baby and The Innocents, where there is just enough peculiarity for Chris to be suspicious but enough doubt for him to think that he might be imagining it all. Then there’s the ‘Sunken Place’, an image that brings to life our protagonist’s greatest fears and anxieties and as nightmarish a symbol of suppression as there’s ever been in cinema.
The horror of course stems from racism in America, but here it isn’t all just the overt, conservative, aggressive brand of racism that has already been much explored in films by and/or about African-Americans and that has sadly received much publicity in the year since the film’s release. Here it extends to other facets of racism including that of society’s progressive, left-leaning side, which goes far beyond awkward white people trying to make innocuous conversation with black people to show them how open-minded and tolerant they are. Even when Chris is welcomed into his white girlfriend’s family with open arms, he can never feel at ease there because their behaviour and attitude towards him is founded on stereotypes and political correctness and, as he later learns, his situation is a precarious one that can be taken away from him against his will. The film also explores such themes as the representation of African-Americans in media and culture, black masculinity, racism’s roots in history and many others with such wit and creativity that it never for a second feels forced or banal. The way Peele is able to present the plot in an engaging way and interweave symbols that build on the story and characters while still connecting with something larger and relevant to out world is nothing short of masterful.
Get Out is such scary film, not only because of the larger implications of its story but also in light of all that has occurred prior and subsequent to its release, that it seems rather misleading to label it as a comedy. But that is what it is, just not in the same way as Life of Brian or Ghostbusters. Get Out is more like an episode of Black Mirror where the initial concept, once you fully realise what it is, seems absurd and laughable at first until you give it time to really sink in. There is very little in this movie that will make you laugh outright (apart from Howery’s much needed comic relief), but there are many that will give you the nervous, knowing kind of humour where you cannot bring yourself to laugh for fear that you might cry. Get Out is not just a wonderfully made, thoroughly absorbing, insanely clever film, it is a film that needed to be made exactly when and where it was made. It captures a snapshot of contemporary society that is so horrifying and uncomfortable you will not be able to look away from it any more than Chris can look away from his window into the outside world from the Sunken Place.