Get Out
Oh, man, what a week. You ever get one of those grooves where you just get shit done? A period of time when your accomplishments just pile up like body bags at an EDM concert? That’s what happened to me this week.
And my big week all started when I decided to stop drinking on Monday. Yeah, I agree, that’s a pretty big-ass accomplishment right there. But I wasn’t done. Tuesday was just as productive; I decided to start drinking again. I don’t remember what I did Wednesday afternoon, but I now own a stained Burger King uniform and a King Soopers shopping cart. Thursday I won an argument with a six-year-old about the best flavor of bubble gum (sour apple). I know I won because she cried. Then, I took the rest of the week off; I deserved it.
So, forgive me if I sound a little tired as I review Get Out, a sort-of-horror movie written and directed by Jordan Peele, from the comedy duo Key and Peele. He made his bones using comedy to highlight cultural differences. And he’s pretty fucking good at it. I bet a shitload of suburban white teens, the kind who practice using the word “nigger” on other white suburban teens, have learned a shitload more about race relations from Key and Peele than they do from their teachers.
Get Out is more of Peele commenting on cultural differences and, really, about races’ perceptions of each other. Chris (Daniel Kaluuya) is a black photographer about to meet his white girlfriend Rose’s (Allison Williams) parents, who apparently don’t know he’s black. It’s awkward in the same way trying to sneak out a fart in an elevator is. Hell, it’s awkward enough meeting the parents of someone you’re shtupping, even without being different colors. Pretty much every time I met a girl I liked parents, nobody knew what to say. It didn’t matter if I was invited or if I came in through a window or if they found me hiding in their bushes spying on their daughter. Always a little uncomfortable.
Get Out is primarily a horror story, so of course things go badly. The wealthy upstate New York home of Rose’s parents (Bradley Whitford and Catherine Keener) is stiff and formal. They have two silent, almost robotic, black servants that give the whole place a bit of a plantation feel. The audience is not supposed to know whether Rose’s family is actually comfortable with their daughter’s boyfriend or just being polite. The mother is a therapist who wants to put Chris under hypnosis, ostensibly to cure his smoking addiction. The father makes sure the new boyfriend knows he loved Obama.
Chris tries to play along with all the patronizing race-tinged conversations: he’s used to it by now. But, it all grows increasingly icky, especially after he is hypnotized and loses a big chunk of time. Then, when the family has a garden party and the property is overrun with more creepy white folks than a Trump rally. It is here that the reason for Chris’s being there is revealed.
The movie misdirects, using our preconceived notions. At first, you think the white folks are maybe vigilante racists and they just want to get rid of all the black people. Then you misled into suspecting they are using blacks as slaves. Either of these would be too predictable and too easy, though, for Jordan Peele. He’s smarter than that, and has much more subversive things to say. In fact, this movie is about a far more insidious kind of racism; the kind where white people want all their privilege but also be as cool as they think black people are.
In other words, it’s about those suburban white teens saying “nigger,” but as adults. That theme is by far the best think about Get Out.
I don’t know what to think of Allison Williams. Her jaw is strong enough to crack walnuts. She also looks like she cuts her own hair, which is one of my biggest turn ons. I figure any girl who can cut her own hair could probably cut mine too, and that would save me $10 every couple of months. The only thing sexier is a lady with a little wallet full of dividers to hold her various coupons. I guess Williams is one of those women Hollywood hires to be approachably attractive, cute enough for the guys but not intimidating to women. Her acting is generic, though, and she’s never as charming as he role needs her to be.
Kaluuya has huge eyes that can go from sleepy to alarmed in a heartbeat. They do most of the acting for him since his role is laconic, and more reaction that action. His character is supposed to be a gifted photographer, but we don’t see much of that. Neither do we see the intelligence we assume he has. He’s skeptical, but that’s different than smart. He is slower to react to a weird situation than any of us would be.
Peele as writer and director relies too much on convention, visually and in pacing. While he has a damn good premise, do we really need it tethered to bad guys who aren’t really dead after getting knocked down? Or where people scramble for a loose gun? Do we need to know who the bad guys are right from the start?
The movie also drags longer than it needs to through its middle. The only entertainment coming from the occasional jump scare and the bulk of the humor either coming from Chris saying “What the fuck? Or his friend back in the city providing the Greek Chorus by phone. There is as much illogic here and characters making bad decisions as in any low-budget horror movie. How the hell does a tied-up Chris manage to stuff his ears with cotton? Why is a room configured to let someone video conference in but only intercom out?
Yet, Get Out is worth seeing, just because it’s a reminder never stop wishing they could be blacker. Three Fingers.