Nearly Flawless Horror Flick

Rating: 9/10 (3 March 2017)

Holy crap this is a good movie. Admittedly, it's been a little while since a down and out great film has graced the screen with its presence; and longer still since a great, mainstream American horror movie has so effectively clutched the collective pearls of moviegoers across this country. Thus sounding off on this film might just be the product of being starved for truly awesome content. Still, the nerve of this movie; the brazen, gargantuan balls of this freaking movie – they're a thing of beauty.
Those who have glanced Get Out's chilling trailer will no doubt know the setup. A black man named Chris (Kaluuya) is brought to the childhood home of his white girlfriend (Williams) in order to charm her upper-crust bourgeois parents. She insists there will be no issues, though it's obvious to Chris and everyone else in the room she's being just a tad naive. Consequently when the couple drives up to the stately family manor on the lake, he suspects little other than the usual barrage of forced, vaguely racist pablum. Yet the longer he stays, the more Chris notices everyone around him seems to be acting rather peculiar; including and especially local blacks who behave more docile and compliant than he's used to seeing.
Using razor-sharp social commentary, quick-witted humor and good 'ol fashion suspense; Get Out has all the hallmarks of an above-average, turn of the century horror film. It balances its blunt themes with a lot of expressive imagery and a consistent tone of protracted, off-kilter foreboding. Between Catherine Keener's hazy somnambulism and Bradley Whitford's subtle coaxing the movie quietly spins on an ever tilting axis of weirdness. Every time that spin slows or the film's center conflict starts to wear thin, we're treated to the bizarre, show-stopping conduct of Betty Gabriel, Marcus Henderson and a particularly good Lakeith Stanfield to keep everything head-cockingly strange. And at the front of it all is Daniel Kaluuya who remains understated throughout, though his smirk can't help but channel Sheriff Bart's in Blazing Saddles (1974).
The obvious comparison here however would be The Stepford Wives (1975), which attempted to do for gender politics in the 70's what Get Out does for racial politics today. The difference here is while one faltered in the realm of active, engaging storytelling, this movie keeps use glued to the screen from start to finish. Its escalating stakes and clever little setups and executions become the glue that holds Get Out together as it wades through the treacherous waters of third-act fatigue. Instead of veering bigger and louder like A Cure for Wellness (2017) does, Get Out keeps its tone and relies on its atmosphere and those sweet, sweet payoffs to tickle your brain and keep you invested.
And boy is this, a tense and engrossing film. It aptly juggles all of its various mission statements in a way that is both enthralling and surprisingly polished. Director Jordan Peele (of Key & Peele fame) slips into the directors chair as if it were a second calling. His technical prowess is reminiscent of early Shymalan only with narrative twists and turns that feel organic instead of back-breakingly absurd.
His freshman film is liable to leave appreciative audiences with a gregarious feeling of catharsis while leaving the rest of us in a state of shock. As for me, I left feeling I have witnessed a movie about as subversive as Brotherhood of Death (1976), made by a director hell-bent on proving that comedy, horror and social awareness are not as far apart as you'd think.