No joke: the first time I watched the car chase through San Francisco, I laughed so hard I hyperventilated a little.
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
I keep thinking about the blue.
After the stunning end credits, the music stutters and dies, and the brilliant white lighting collapses into blue. Not the iridescent, purplish blue we’ve seen throughout the film, the one contrasted with vibrant reds and oranges. That was for the disco and the dirty movies and the mythical forest and the murders. This is an icy, desolate blue, utterly devoid of warmth or hope.
What does it mean when surviving the slasher movie merely…
The only movie I’ve seen that really captures what it’s like to be well and truly drunk.
Clarity of vision comes and goes. Sound cuts in and out. A joke is a joke until it’s a fight. Hysterical laughter becomes hysterical anger. The night never ends. It’s fun until it’s not.
A bull lashes out to hide his pain. A charmer plays along to keep the peace. A rogue becomes a caretaker. A cipher tries to feel again.
I appreciate the boldness it takes to operate on as many levels as Jordan Peele is attempting. My major problem with Get Out is that it doesn’t always stick the landing. Combining comedy and horror is extremely difficult, as it’s near-on impossible to introduce the jokes without deflating the thrills or, at the very least, lowering the stakes. I don’t think Get Out uses satire nearly as successfully as some of its predecessors, like Scream, or even its contemporaries, like…