In NZ Cinemas Oct 2nd
Reviewed by Jeremy Elwood
Movies, football, and Christianity. If there are three things that the USA does bigger, brasher and louder than anyone else, these are them. All three are billion-dollar businesses, fuelled by passionate fans and featuring stars driven to ever-increasing extremes in their pursuit of success. That drive, and the borderline (or beyond) madness it can lead to, is at the heart of Him, but which of those three ripe targets it’s aiming at may depend entirely on who’s watching it.
If you’ve seen the publicity for Him, you will have seen Jordan Peele’s name prominently displayed. This is not, however, the latest outing from the director of Get Out, Us and Nope. Instead, he only acts as producer for a film directed by Justin Tipping, a confusion I shared with several movie-goers if the conversations going on around me were any indication.
It’s the tale of Cameron Cade (Tyriq Withers – I Know What You Did Last Summer), a young quarterback picked to be the next superstar in a fictional version of the NFL. After suffering an injury on the eve of the draft, he’s thrown a lifeline by his childhood hero Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans – Scary Movie, White Chicks) – a multiple-time champion, “G.O.A.T.” legend rumoured to be on the brink of retirement, and looking for his successor. Cade takes up the offer to train for a week at White’s desert compound, and, well, things get progressively weird from there.
Justin Tipping is a new name, to me, and I was somewhat surprised to look him up and not find a string of big budget music videos on his CV. This film uses all the tricks of that specific trade, particularly startling sound design, to create a strange, surreal atmosphere within some disturbingly beautiful settings. There’s a crystal clear yet dream-like nature to it all, like David Lynch shooting in 4K with an editor who takes inspiration from recreational Ritalin.
The performances are generally excellent, in a similarly unhinged way. Marlon Wayans, best known for, um, pretty much any Top Ten list of “worst comedy movies ever made”, but also Requiem For a Dream, brings a demonic charisma to White. He mixes a terrifying unpredictability with the kind of egotistical charm that is entirely consistent with genuine superstar athletes, the impression that they can seduce you into submission before, or even as, they wipe the floor with you. Tyriq Withers is more of a blank canvas, which again is entirely believable. As the homecoming hero – high school girlfriend, close-knit family, “God, Family and Football” (the order here becomes highly important) – who just needs some tough love in order to fulfil his destiny, the fact that his emotional range is about as wide as the goalposts on a football field isn’t in any way a negative critique.
The supporting roles are filled by an eclectic mix of performers. Ex-MMA fighter Maurice Green plays a coach/trainer from the R. Lee Ermey school of psychotic Drill Sergeants. Standup and sketch comedian Tim Heideker plays the sports agent, channelling the worst of that industry’s greed and sleaze, and Julia Fox (Uncut Gems) might owe Lady Gaga royalties for her portrayal of White’s wife and co-conspirator. A surprise standout is Jim Jeffries, the Australian stand-up who, as you would expect, provides the only real humour in the film, but also turns in the most grounded performance as White’s personal sports doctor, Marco.
So, Him is well acted and professionally put together. The problem is, even a day after seeing it, in all honesty I cannot tell you what on earth it’s really trying to be about.
As an allegory about the fanaticism and corporate evils within professional sport, it’s about a subtle as a football to the face. As a loose retelling of Jesus Christ’s 30 days in the desert, it’s a bizarre reading. As a statement on manhood, it’s undeniably toxic, but almost unintentionally. The first two-thirds of the movie are like putting on a double feature of Any Given Sunday and The Last Temptation of Christ, in the same room, at the same time. And that’s the most understandable bit of the movie.
Because if the first two acts are arguably an innovative down-field drive, the third is a chaotic, blooper-reel fourth-down fumble. I won’t spoil, or even try to explain, the ending of this film, but if you thought the double-bill comparison above sounded odd, now imagine switching to something that could have come straight out of the minds of Monty Python or Bad Taste-era Peter Jackson. It’s bloody, biblical and batshit crazy.
Him is absolutely worth seeing for its acting and visual flair, but be prepared for those things to be way down the list of what you’re talking about afterwards.