Him

As a director, Jordan Peele makes original, thematically complex horror (Get Out, Us, Nope). As a producer, on titles like Candyman and Monkey Man, he shepherds films that, while not always overtly horror, are unsettling, packed with big ideas and presented with visual dazzle. Him is about the loudest example yet, with a million thoughts, directed to within an inch of its life. It’s a whole lotta movie. Sometimes almost too much, but never less than riveting.

Since childhood, when his dad shoved him firmly in that direction, Cameron ‘Cam’ Cade (Tyriq Withers) has wanted to play football. Not just play, but be the greatest of all time. Just when his big break seems inevitable, with a pick for the San Antonio Saviors, Cade is attacked, sustaining a brain injury. His future in jeopardy, but not yet ruined, he’s sent to train with the Saviors’ veteran star player, Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans). White’s bootcamp is brutal, bloody and highly unorthodox. Cam, brain still healing, finds reality and nightmare blurring.

The big moments go to [Marlon] Wayans, who’s all-in as White, clearly relishing every second of the best role of his career.

Director/co-writer Justin Tipping’s previous film, 2016’s Kicks, was a low-key, lightly surreal drama about a kid who thinks expensive sneakers will bring him the respect he craves, but finds attention can be dangerous.  Him has similar themes, with every dial turned way up. Cam believes football is his route to fame and becoming the man his father envisioned, but the price of idolatry is far greater than he imagines. And White is going to make him pay it. Practice sessions end in bloodied, broken faces. A doctor keeps sticking Cam with mysterious syringes. Horrifying visions stalk him.

Relative newcomer Withers (I Know What You Did Last Summer) makes a powerful impression in a role that requires him to convey a lot with little dialogue. The big moments go to Wayans, who’s all-in as White, clearly relishing every second of the best role of his career. Julia Fox is wired fun as White’s spooky girlfriend.

Tipping directs it all to the hilt — think early Darren Aronofsky meets Nike ad — with every frame minutely curated (Kira Kelly’s cinematography is gorgeous), zippy visual tricks, and editing designed to be noticed. At times, the aesthetics can overpower the storytelling, the surface so slick the narrative won’t stick. But this isn’t just an exercise in style. It’s teeming with ideas — about ambition, celebrity, race, power, ageing. If they don’t all fully bloom, there are enough times when they do, thrillingly, particularly in the film’s finale. This is the work of a director who has the potential for greatness.