Nope

In Jor­dan Peele’s lat­est mas­ter­piece, we meet OJ and Emer­ald Hay­wood, a broth­er and sis­ter duo played respec­tive­ly by Daniel Kalu­uya and Keke Palmer, as they take on the fam­i­ly busi­ness – Haywood’s Hol­ly­wood Hors­es – after their father’s sud­den death in a freak accident.

What fol­lows is a for­mal­ly tight and visu­al­ly expan­sive sci-fi epic that inter­ro­gates Hollywood’s ills and syn­the­sis­es Peele’s love for genre film­mak­ing. Anchored by two superb lead per­for­mances from a strong and silent Kalu­uya and viva­cious­ly hilar­i­ous Palmer, Peele flex­es his apti­tude for cre­at­ing ten­sion to both hor­rif­ic and comedic effect – with sequences of rain­ing blood and an irri­tat­ing pray­ing mantis. 

Cin­e­matog­ra­ph­er Hoyte Van Hoytema (who works reg­u­lar­ly with Christo­pher Nolan) is instru­men­tal in build­ing this ten­sion and cre­at­ing the slick visu­als that awe and unset­tle simul­ta­ne­ous­ly; as is sound mix­er José Anto­nio Gar­cía whose work here seam­less­ly flits between whol­ly suf­fo­cat­ing and a breath of fresh air.  

For­mal­ly this is per­haps Peele’s most accom­plished work to date, walk­ing the tightrope between high pro­duc­tion and (gen­uine­ly) inno­v­a­tive sto­ry­telling where in recent years it often feels like one has to be sac­ri­ficed for the oth­er. But what’s most refresh­ing is the trust Peele places in his audi­ence to walk with him through a recog­nis­able world that grad­u­al­ly becomes alien with­out hold­ing their hand.

Expo­si­tion is few and far between, with Emer­ald Hay­wood pro­vid­ing the most essen­tial piece. Ear­ly in the film, she intro­duces the fam­i­ly busi­ness to a pro­duc­tion crew, ask­ing ​“Did you know that the first set of pho­tographs to cre­ate a motion pic­ture was a two-sec­ond clip of a Black man on a horse?”, and with­out labour­ing the point, we are set up to watch a UFO sci-fi action hor­ror film about those whose backs Hol­ly­wood was built upon.

Peele as a direc­tor has always been con­cerned with how we treat The Oth­er, how we exploit The Oth­er and ulti­mate­ly, how by trad­ing in the per­spec­tive of the con­queror with that of the once con­quered, you can (as he has) rev­o­lu­tionise 21^st cen­tu­ry Hol­ly­wood film­mak­ing. Steven Yeun’s role as Ricky ​‘Jupe’ Park, own­er of fair­ground Jupiter’s Claim, presents the knot­ty con­tra­dic­tions that exist with­in those who believe they have a fair shot at rig­ging the game. 

What’s essen­tial to note is that these adult ideas are wrapped in robust, enter­tain­ing and high­ly rewatch­able film­mak­ing. There is enough respect for the audi­ence and abun­dant skill in the cast and crew to do both. Peele is unafraid to let the ten­sion linger and acute­ly under­stands the dif­fer­ence between comedic relief ver­sus under­cut­ting with comedic ​‘res­cue’, toy­ing with the silli­ness of genre film­mak­ing and chal­leng­ing the pre­dictable sto­ry­telling we have become numb to at every step. 

Formal com­par­isons to oth­er direc­tors or oth­er peri­ods in Hol­ly­wood film­mak­ing are moot – Jor­dan Peele is here and he’s doing it all right now.

Lit­tle White Lies is com­mit­ted to cham­pi­oning great movies and the tal­ent­ed peo­ple who make them.

By becom­ing a mem­ber you can sup­port our inde­pen­dent jour­nal­ism and receive exclu­sive essays, prints, month­ly film rec­om­men­da­tions and more.