Monday, 29 May 2017

Review: Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol 2

Director: James Gunn  
Screenplay: James Gunn
Starring: Chris Pratt, Zoe Saldana, Dave Bautista, Vin Diesel, Bradley Cooper, Michael Rooker, Karen Gillan, Pom Klementieff, Elizabeth Debicki, Chris Sullivan, Sean Gunn, Sylvester Stallone, and Kurt Russell.

Synopsis is here:

After the first Guardians of the Galaxy, I remember being placed under interrogation for not proclaiming my undying love for the first film. To not place the film in you top ten of the year/all time, meant there was something wrong with you. I remember sitting at a BBQ and trying to explain that I found the first film to be rather forgettable. People could bend their head around it. Why wasn’t I like everyone else? Why didn’t I fall into line like a loyal foot solider?

I enter Guardians Vol 2 with a sense of optimism, despite my quiet apprehensions towards the approach towards the modern franchise. Again Guardians is quick with the gags, packed with set pieces and the characters still have a lot of colour (set aside how it leaves its female leads floundering). These come in thick and fast and yet this also does well to remind me that narratively, I found Guardians Vol 2 a haphazard affair. One pivotal point has a character ask why doesn’t (redacted Guardian name) want to be special. Said Gaudian obliges with an answer that basically suggests that he wants to conform like everyone else. This should really play in the mega-franchise world, where passive protagonists are simply issued with extraordinary powers and ushered to be “special” merely because they are. This sits uncomfortably within Guardians Vol 2. Our characters are meant to be a certain type of renegade. Why are they so down with a certain type of conformity?

Much like the first film, Guardians Vol 2 works best when it knocks out silly visual gags (the opening fight without Groot is wonderful) or when it’s more secondary characters get their time to shine (I really love Bradley Cooper’s voice work again). However, the films main plot point, which drearily comments on fatherly sins, feels dry and uninvolving. Gunn’s visuals capture of the world punctuates the bold colourful landscapes with neatly captured moments of isolation but struggles with a screenplay which does little to excite.

The whole thing does little to carry any weight. This is a creeping feeling that film writers get with a lot of modern mainstream fare, but certain features make it hard to make a fighting case against this. Guardian Vol two is not an exception. The secondary antagonists are considered so perfect genetically, that they do not go into battle, they fight via automated space drone which is controlled like a video game. It makes a cute gag but eliminates feeling even more that the CGI hordes that litter other comic book movies. A shallow criticism, but one that feels valid to a film in which it’s anti-heroes bode no real consequence. Hell, they want to be family, just like us.

This is, of course, a family who wish to kill in glorious slow motion (even the baby!) to 70’s pop classics a la Tarantino. Again, this probably wouldn’t be a bad thing if Guardian could drop its 12a rating and really let loose, but alas no. Guardians titters perilously between gleefully subversive (was that a sly S&M joke just then?) and tonally frustrating. We might be a little so happy to see Baby Groot become a killer so easily for instance. These guys are badass but bloodless. These are bandits that just need to be hugged. Amidst all this, there’s still a feeling of incompleteness about proceedings. Everything rumbles on with the knowledge that this is (again) leading up to the next episode, so there’s little time to really take on board what’s happening. In-depth analysis on if a baby plant should care about its sins maybe far-fetched, however, the film’s more prominent relationships also feel short changed. There always feels like there’s more to say about some of the dynamics at play. Every character gets their time to quip and wisecrack, and they do so with gusto. It’s just hard not to wish for a little bit more in their development. There’s little to unpeel, which something like Guardians may not really need as a summer flick, but for this writer, again, there’s no real desire to go back for a second viewing. Easter eggs are fine for the well initiated, but they may not work for everyone.  

So again, I brace myself for the BBQ inquisition. More probing about why I don’t conform and indulge in killer Baby Groot like everyone else. I’ll probably come up with a cumbersome analogy of a certain fruit-named company, which asked everyone to “think differently” before drowning the market quite considerably with its slightly varied but very similar toys. I’ll bemoan that we all think differently like everyone else. Like Guardians Vol 2, which rebels with one eye on its parents (think Disney). Then I’ll continue with my plate of special recipe wings.

Friday, 31 March 2017

Review: Logan

Year: 2017
Director: James Mangold
Screenplay: James Mangold, Scott Frank, Michael Green
Starring: Hugh Jackman, Patrick Stewart, Boyd Holbrook, Stephen Merchant, Richard E. Grant, Dafne Keen.

Synopsis is here:

I cannot say I loved Logan, although I do admire it. The superhero movie that’s making grown men cry has gained many apostles, but I’m just not a devout follower. I fear part of this may be down to how I feel about The Wolverine character as a whole. There’s also the issue of how we finally got to a Wolverine film that’s actually interested in the character. If the other films had done their jobs fully, I could feel myself having more resonance with myself. For that, we could blame some poor choices on Fox’s part. Getting James Mangold to take the mantle a little earlier could have helped amongst other things.

Logan’s stripped down, 90’s road movie aesthetic is actually quite appealing after the overtly slick, all spectacle approach of X-men: Apocalypse. Marigold’s intention to make something that is clearly set within the world, yet not of the same style is the approach that has been deeply needed in the growing hemogenic realm of the “superhero movie” sub-genre. The irreverence of Deadpool and the cynical nature of Logan are steps in the right direction. Not just a refreshing change of pace but a change of focus. By sliming the stakes and adding finality to proceedings Logan doesn’t feel like yet another piece to a needlessly complicated puzzle. It finds a solid reason for a viewer to care about what’s on screen. We might not see everything reset itself two years down the line. Even though as I say this, words about the future of these characters have already been hyped.

For now, Logan appears to be a somewhat fitting conclusion to an awkward spin-off series. It plays with meta well and doesn’t feel the need to aim towards humour to keep things interesting. It’s also generally quite upsetting. Death follows our characters throughout this movie. Unlike the shallow lip service paid to the likes of Ironman 3 (2013), there’s a true feeling that regret weighs heavily on Weapon X. That everything he touches simply makes things worse. A tragic sequence during the second half of the movie is particularly despairing for this very reason. When Logan lets his guard down. There’s a good chance that innocent people could get hurt.

The film is a rather crowning achievement for its main star; Hugh Jackman. After 17 years of inhabiting this character, Jackman’s performances have always remained relatively consistent even if the film’s stories and plots have not. In Logan, Jackman infuses his character with far more bitterness and resentment than before, but also more pathos. Some of the films more compelling scenes come from the now fraught relationship that is held with Logan's former mentor; Charles Xavier (an on-form Patrick Stewart). Again, seeing the tension displayed here is as frustrating as it is entertaining. There’s a dull ache that resides in scenes in which they talk about what could have been. It’s painful not only because of the strength of the performances, but because there’s always the slight feeling that it’s a meta nod to the incoherency of the X-men film series itself.

The big question for some is whether Logan is better than The Dark Knight (2008). Not in my eyes. While it’s easier now to see flaws with Nolan’s comic book hero works, I still find The Dark Knight a better-paced blockbuster, featuring a stronger antagonist and set pieces which stick in the mind long after the film finishes. In terms of personal taste, I also found Logan’s cynicism harder to contend with. It’s a film in which death weighs heavy on the shoulders and even the outcome of secondary characters is tough going. One can’t help but think that some of the plaudits are simply because we see more bloodshed. If that is the case, it is somewhat troubling as Logan never truly feels cathartic.
Let it be said, however, that Logan is one of the more notable Superhero movies of this cycle as it dares to be different. The film’s finality is a shot in the arm for the superhero genre in general. The film’s grim tone, may not be for everyone, but this third and possibly final entry in the wolverine series does well to remind the audience that the stakes don’t always have to be saving the world. They can be about saving one soul.




Review: Kong: Skull Island

Year: 2017
Director: Jordan Vogt-Roberts
Screenplay: Dan Gilroy, Max Borenstein, Derek Connolly
Starring: Tom Hiddleston, Samuel L. Jackson, John Goodman, Brie Larson, Jing Tian, Toby Kebbell, John Ortiz, Corey Hawkins, Jason Mitchell, Shea Whigham, Thomas Mann, Terry Notary, John C. Reilly.

Synopsis is here:

“Everything here is something” - Marge Simpson Ep15 – Season 13 - Blame it on Lisa

King Kong has been refurbed three times before Kong: Skull Island. That’s not counting his 60’s Japanese stints. Before this iteration, audiences were given at least a 20+ year period before the great ape roared back into screens once more. The fact that Kong: Skull Island has taken 12 years to reach audiences only reminds us of just how rapid the acceleration of reimagining/rebooting/rehashing cinematic brands has become. Yes, it is still over a decade but the gap is remarkably smaller, particularly when we consider studios churning films of anything that may rouse even a passing notion of nostalgia. While I don’t wish to turn this review into a rant about “original” stories, it is important to note that the high volume of going back to the well should hopefully mean bringing a fresher angle to the material. Kong: Skull Island decides that while harking on past success is the only thing. People like giant apes. You get giant apes.

Kong: Skull Island is a far more kinetic beast than Peter Jackson’s more romanticised project. This is straight up B-Movie thrills. No dilly dallying. We get to see Kong from the get go. There’s no mystery here. Spectacle is key. This is a Kong for cinematic universe goers. We know what to expect, so it just needs to be confirmed. Does Kong go rampant? Check. Is nearly everything these poor humans touch actually a beasty designed to kill them? Check. Are the human characters not worth a dime because giant apes? Double check. Skull Island merrily fills the frame with known character actors and unceremoniously stomps them out the picture, without a care in the world. We’re here to see Kong smash and indeed he does.

There is a distinct feeling of hollowness about the whole thing. We expect a film about a gigantic ape to have a bobbins plot, but there isn’t much to really grasp on. Oddball crew find a strange island. There’s a massive monkey on it. The film hangs the Vietnam war and Nixon over itself as window dressing, but all the Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse Now references seem to be shallow lip service to an audience that wouldn’t be interested in Samuel L Jackson going mental over a huge ape. The films disposable cast is well picked and they’re a little more fun to watch than the dour performances that appear in the recent Godzilla (2014) remake. However, as the film isn’t really interested in their plight, it’s still hard to be really invested in anything that happens. The action is tight and well-constructed and there a general knock around fun that comes from some of the set pieces, but it is all empty calories. While it’s vaguely amusing to see people not even able to sit down on anything without said seat trying to eat them, nothing really lingers in the mind, nor feels worth watching again. Something I do get from previous incarnations.

A brief but obvious spoiler hints at a larger universe filled with ancient creatures, but I find myself asking why. The answer is as clear as day, but the films are quite weak. At least Kong: Skull Island acknowledges that it's a B-movie. It seems pointless to tie all these films up this time around, but now that the Marvel cinematic universe dictate the market trend, we now have to realise that everything here is something.

Monday, 20 March 2017

Review: Moonlight

Year: 2016 (U.K Theatrical Release 2017)
Director: Barry Jenkins
Screenplay: Barry Jenkins
Starring: Trevante Rhodes, André Holland, Janelle Monáe, Ashton Sanders, Naomie Harris, Mahershala Ali.

Synopsis is here:

It’s been almost a week since I came out of a mid-afternoon screening of Barry Jenkins second feature length film Moonlight. Despite the rave reviews and its surprise Oscar win, I knew little about the film itself. As a massive fan of Jenkins quietly touching debut feature Medicine for Melancholy (2008), I kept myself away from anything that delved too much into the actual film. Now, a few hours since my viewing of the film, I can honestly say I was astonished. In the same way that many wouldn’t believe they would see a Black U.S president in their lifetime, I never would have believed that an unapologetically black art film would win Best Picture. But here we are.

Of course, we can talk about the embarrassing Oscar mix up that occurred. In which Oscar favourite; La La Land (2016) was announced as the winner of the award before notification of the mix-up was discovered. The fallout from the error once again highlighted some of the many problems that many find with the Academy. However, this doesn’t take away from what this film as achieved. When something as elliptical as Moonlight wins Best Picture, it can chip away at our expectations about the Oscars. While you can say that the film’s theme of homosexuality seems to fit into the so-called “worthy” agenda of the awards, almost everything else does not. From its near abstract structure, down to the small production company who made the film. What the win did for cynics such as myself, is suggest the alterations of academy voting members may not just change who may win what at the Oscars, it may affect artistic taste. The beauty of Moonlight is in the respect it gives its audience. It is not heavy on dialogue and its plot is streamlined, yet the execution of its story, which seems to owe more to the mood driven world cinema of the likes of Wong Kar Wai, along with the films cultural relevancy is what makes the film stand out.

In some ways, Moonlight is similar to Jenkins debut feature. As with Medicine for Melancholy, Moonlight navigates ideas of black identity and relationships and the need for connection in a world in which many elements seek to isolate. In Medicine, the conflict lies within the class struggle, gentrification and interracial dating. It debates that there is still a struggle between race and class when it comes to love and despite our wish to ignore such arguments, a division is still created from outside judgement and long-standing resentment. In Moonlight the conflict at first appears more insular. It details the interior identity crisis of a young black man at three pivotal moments of his life. Sexuality is explored, along with the complex emotions that come through with the character’s age and the fraught relationships of youth. Moonlight also factors a socio-political element which, if isolated, would seem well worn on the surface, but due to its setting and characters, brings forth a fresh angle towards its subject. A young man’s search for his sexual identity is often used subject matter in cinema and in that sense Moonlight is no different. However, the film’s predominant setting of Liberty City, Miami speaks volumes. This is a lower-class area with African-Americans making up 95% of the demographic. The waspish comments that have emitted from white commentators such as Camilla Long only help illustrate that complex queer cinema has long been a Caucasian exercise. The complicated affections that take place in the likes of Carol (2015) and Brokeback Mountain (2005) appeared to be accepted far more readily. Here with Moonlight, questions of universal appeal quickly rose their heads. Whether subconsciously or not, this does not come as a big surprise. However, much like Medicine for Melancholy, Jenkins’ main weapon in his armoury is his capability to infuse his characters with earnestness and vulnerability. There is a tenderness between these characters here that is not often seen within films that deal with Black masculinity, if at all. Apologies for being glib here, but it’s not a shock that the film's emotions may be lost on certain writers and viewers. Black masculinity has so narrowly defined for so long in cinema, you can almost forgive people for black characters for not acting in the way that they expect. For some black audience members for which this film’s warm, emotive response will connect to, we now expect this so much in our real lives, we should merely roll our eyes and move on.

The characters and dynamics at play in Moonlight defy so much of what is often suggested in other areas of black culture. In particular Rap and Hip Hop music, which has been long dominated with allegations and allegories of homophobia and toxic masculinity for nearly thirty years. The film does slightly lean towards the ghetto escapism that defined the Afro-American cinema of the 90’s, but it also toys with our expectations. For instance, Mahershala Ali portrayal of the drug dealer with the heart of gold is shifted into a new perspective when in conversation with a young 9-year-old boy about the word “faggot”. A near unrecognisable Naomi Harris takes on a role of a drug-addicted mother, delicately balancing the performance between despicableness and heart-wrenching empathy. It could have been easy to shoehorn this portrayal with previously seen roles such as Mo'nique’s villainess display in Precious (2009). But Jenkins understands that humans aren’t that straightforward. What we see throughout with every character is the knottiness that comes with their decisions and the tumultuous results which stem from their history.

Like Boyhood (2012), Moonlight notes upon the small details rather than the larger ones. We are given intimate moments which help define the young protagonist; Chiron, but the film decides against highlighting certain outcomes. Characters fade into the distance, but they’ve made their mark. This is a film of looks, not dialogue. Lines are read on the character’s faces. This is where the depth of the film is found. On the surface, we think we know the story, yet this is a tale differs from what we think we know. The moments Moonlight declines to show us, an off-screen demise, for example, doesn’t need to be shown. The audience has seen in many guises before.

The likes of Camilla Long will state that the film as a whole has been told on countless backdrops. But no. Take away the likes of Campbell X’s Stud Life (2012), the work of Charles Burnett, or at a push, Six Degrees of Seperation (1993) and the canvas is nearly always white. Often of a social class higher than seen here. It’s one imitate love scene holds a tenderness that has not been held on a mainstream screen by two Afro-American black men. It displays a tenderness with a poignancy that even Todd Haynes Carol (2015) doesn’t reach. It’s a moment which truly suggests that we now comfortable with queer sex which is not out to titillate or to shock. It is one thing to dislike a film for an honest reason but is slightly troubling to dismiss film in the way the likes of Long does, asking a mood piece to have more plot. To rebuff the film as something that doesn’t break any new ground as if films like this are a dime a dozen. How often do we see films as personal as this? With African Americans framed with such tenderness? Long’s banal comments are a smart way to try and take away a marginalised voice, but while Moonlight may not be a universal and easy expression for more conservative ears it’s certainly one that needed to be told.

It’s difficult to produce a coming of age film which is so nakedly honest. It’s harder to do so with three different actors inhabiting the same role. Even Boyhood kept hold of its child actors for all of its 12 years of production. The performances that come from the three lead roles are not only uniformly consistent but they also all highlight the fragility that can lie within black male masculinity. It’s difficult to pick out the strongest dramatic moment. It could be the subtle and heart-breaking exchange that occurs between Alex Hibbert’s 9-year-old Chiron and Mahershala Ali’s Juan. It could the soft romantic moment on the beach between a teenage Chiron (Ashton Sanders) and his childhood friend Kevin (Jharrel Jerome). One part of me believes that films final scenes between and adult Chiron (Trevante Rhodes) and Kevin (André Holland) are the most deserving, yet to say that seems unfair on everything that we’ve seen before it. What I can honestly say is each display is deeply compelling.

The three performances, when combined, create a complex and wrenching portrait of longing and regret I can honestly say that I have not seen in an American movie lead by people of colour before. Such a statement is hyperbolic, but one I say with a similar earnestness that this deeply expressive piece of art provides. It will not surprise me if the film’s Oscar win will disarm those who will now try and see what the fuss is about. Moonlight is a film which is not interested in easy answers and comforting closure. It’s a film which requires meditation. This is a film which is not only unapologetically black but also a film that is not universal with its emotions. Nor is it ever trying to be. It’s a film which belongs in the same realms as George Washington (2000), This is England (2006) and Ratcatcher (1999). Coming of age films from the skewed side of the tracks which still maintain the ability to sense the sweet within the sour. In a film world, which appears to be falling into the trap of homogeneity, Moonlight’s beautifully abstract and visually poetic rhythms are a timely reminder of just how bewitching the seventh art can be. I await Barry Jenkins next feature with baited breath. His Oscar win suggests I may not have to wait almost a decade for it this time.




Review: Get Out

Year: 2017
Director: Jordan Peele
Screenplay: Jordan Peele
Starring: Daniel Kaluuya, Allison Williams, Bradley Whitford, Caleb Landry Jones, Stephen Root, Lakeith Stanfield and Catherine Keener

Synopsis is here:

Note: Get Out is a film that is best seen stone cold. I’ve tried not to talk too much about the plot of the film as to avoid spoilers, however, this review may have enough in it to hint at certain elements.

An ex-work colleague was once talking to a group of us about how they felt uncomfortable when travelling to Southall, a suburb of London with a high Islamic Asian demographic. They were quick to note that they had nothing against Muslims mind. They just felt uncomfortable around that suburb as that was "their neighbourhood". One must laugh when hearing things like this. When you're a POC in England, dependant on where you are, you are almost constantly surrounded by white people. You cannot say that you feel uncomfortable around them. It’s just not cricket. Although technically, going by the standards set by my colleague, I should feel uncomfortable from when I get up in the morning until I go to sleep.

This is often the underlying issue when we look and talk about race. It's Farage feeling uncomfortable about not hearing English being spoken on the tube. It's Camilla Long dictating to (mostly white) readers that Moonlight was written for especially white people to feel a certain way, despite being created from a black person's own personal experiences. It's Piers Morgan trolling on the word Nigger. Everything is always seen through the prism of whiteness, which is of course considered what you should call normal. Another example of this? A swimming teacher telling my father that my genetic make-up dictates my swimming prowess. Another would be a previous ex-girlfriends mother always skirting around what to say to me as her daughter had never brought home a black boyfriend. Often me and my friends and family nod and smile about certain "white" tics that occur around us. There's still the belief, even with the more liberal amongst us, that we are somewhat different in our makeup. An element of the exotic and otherness that compels and discomforts people. It could be Ebonics, it could be athleticism (see the shit Serena Williams deals with). There is always SOMETHING.

That something is what is what Jordan Peele candidly deals with his directorial debut Get Out, a dryly amusing and deeply disconcerting horror comedy that has been noted as an updated take on Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967), in which Chris (Daniel Kaluuya); a young black photographer, visits the mysterious estate of his girlfriends (Alison Williams) family to terrifying results. Get Out gleefully riffs on Stanley Kramer’s wonderfully composed social commentary with a tongue firmly implanted in its cheek. Peele’s film grabs hold of something that I had wished the likes of Neil LaBute's remake of The Wicker Man (2006) had been more interested in. Get Out timely exploration of racial framing is not only relevant but blazingly incisive. It would be too easy to make the villains of this piece the type of overtly hostile, backwards evildoers that littered Red State (2011). With Get Out, Peele isn’t afraid to expose that not only the racial inequities that inhabit the veins of western civilisation run deep. They can also be well hidden in the blood of those that people who call themselves allies.

Get Out is not a typical horror film in that we are overload with abject viscera and telegraphed jump scares. Jordan Peele is far more interested in creating an atmosphere similar to the likes of The Twilight Zone or even Black Mirror. This is done with the adeptly crafted screenplay which utilises its main conceit with a dark wit and an affecting sense of truth. Unlike so many horror films which often deal with white suburban fear, Get Out revels in the perversity of treading lightly in white spaces while black. Not since Halloween (1978) has a horror film played so subversively with the uniformity of suburbia. It’s a film which pulls no punches with this theme starting from the first frame, which arouses the fateful tragedies of Trayvon Martin, to a subtly chilling encounter with a policeman that may feel all too familiar to a black male. Nothing is taken to chance here. When we observe the scene with the police officer, note that the actor cast holds a resemblance to ex-officer Darren Wilson. I’ve watched this sequence twice now at the time of writing. I still marvel at how tightly crafted the dynamics of power play out. Believe me when I say this. When you watch it again, you see something different a second time. Let’s just say, in situations like that, we’re often not just scared of the officer.

This is a film which indulges itself in the power plays that occur when it comes to race relations. The film is clearly satirical and makes sure we are aware of it, but it knows how to strike a nerve with the audience it’s catering to. So much of the film nods knowingly to the painful awkwardness of being the only minority in a crowded white room. From the supposed well-intentioned gestures that carry soft offences to the outright obnoxiousness that people feel that they can spout because of the colour of your skin. Peele’s film neatly taps into the fear that many people of colour hold.  That by merely existing, you stand out more. By being a minority, your feelings should come second to a white person’s desires. The master stroke of Get Out is to suggest that it’s within more liberal whites that the most insidious racism occurs. But how could that be? They’re on your side, right? What makes Get Out so engaging is how it toys with ideas of white privilege. It’s not just enough to occupy wealth and opportunity, but even if you are the white elite, it may just be easier to own the black existence, just because you like it.

To say anymore may be telling, in fact, I may have already said too much. However, it’s safe to say that Peels film plays out like a race-themed version of Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man (1973). Its densely-packed screenplay captures the sense of paranoia and helpless that many feel when operating with certain spaces and each scene adds another layer of commentary and creepiness to proceedings. The film’s crowning achievement, a painfully awkward, remarkably on point house party sequence is one that resonates with me from a deeply personal standpoint. It’s a scene that plays out as if it knew me. Every conversation that takes place, every micro-aggression which gets thrown towards Chris (a superlative Kaluuya) feels as if it’s been lifted from situations I’ve been involved in. As exaggerated as the film is (and it is exaggerated), this one sequence, amongst others, holds a candour that’s difficult to shake off the shoulders.

Peele; an attentive sketch writer in his own right manages to balance this with a spiky sense of gallows humour. The film’s funny because it’s true. It’s also terrifying for the same reasons. It’s a film that’s clearly cine-literate. Name-checking the likes of Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist 3 (1990), and Night of the Living Dead (1960) and The Stepford Wives (1975), but not letting its references get in the way of the message of benevolent racism.  It is rounded off by an expertly picked cast who are all allowed to play to their strengths. Special credit should go the likes of Marcus Henderson, Betty Gabriel and LaKeith Stanfield who steal scenes from under the noses of the principle cast with the type of nuance one doesn’t expect from a film which operates under B-Movie mechanics.

If there are any flaws with the movie, it would be with its final third, in which the action shifts from the wry observations of the first two acts into more notable horror film fare. While Get Out still manages to keep a couple of tricks up its sleeve, it travels down the route of many films of its type. Mostly because it’s difficult to see if it could go anywhere else with the material. This shouldn’t detract that Get Out is operating at a higher level than most horror movies. It’s a film in which it’s motifs have already appeared to have penetrated the zeitgeist. This no mean feat, but Peele’s film comes from a place well known to many who will watch it. It will not change the minds of bigots, but that’s not the point. There are moments in this film which struck a chord in me (possibly many others) in a way that other films will not. The beauty of Get Out is that finally in 2017 we get an intelligent genre piece that people of colour can really call their own. The pain of Get Out is that it’s 2017 and we still have to acknowledge it’s truisms.