Review -- Us

Us (2019) - I have been avoiding this movie ever since I saw it two years ago. 

Why? It terrified me. I am talking barely sleeping for a week afterwards. I am talking stomach crumpling in knots if I ran into an image or a clip. I am talking reviewing OnDemand offerings and quickly skipping the page showing the poster. I am talking cinematic social distancing before social distancing was a thing. 

I am still not sure as to why I had such a visceral reaction to this movie. I watch horror often and The Strangers still holds the title of the most frightening film that I have ever seen. Some horror classics are some of my favorite movies and I even wrote my Master's thesis on three genre films. I love it when a horror film looks at social issues through the prism of what seem like obvious scares on the surface. Taking all these factors into account, I figured that it was the overall darkness of the piece, the uniformed and mindless helplessness of the Tethered and the Tethered being condemned to an existence worse than death (in tunnels underneath us! Tunnels!) that sealed the deal for me in this regard. Its elements and mood were not something that I could digest, let alone interpret, in that moment. 

One pandemic, countless deaths by virus and gun and general brutality, endless hospital footage and months of vaccine worries later, I ran into Us and managed to re-watch a few scenes. Having experienced more anxiety and panic attacks in the past year than I had throughout my whole life, it was no surprise to me that the film did not scare me nearly as much anymore. I am not exactly eager for a repeat viewing, but my mind definitely puts the film in perspective at this point and does not go into fight-or-flight mode as soon as a tunnel scene appears or during the big, tragic reveal.

But something else happened as well.

As I was watching, oddly relieved that I did not have to look through my fingers anymore, I realized that I was seeing the film differently this time. The tragedy that the world has been enveloped in for more than a year added a dimension to Us for me. The contrast between the privileged and the oppressed -- worse yet, invisible -- and the contrast between endless potential and stunted tedium was now a sad reminder of a world in the middle of a reckoning. A reckoning of probably the largest scope in the last century, it encompassed one biological and one racially charged pandemic -- two colossal events that collided and set the planet on a new path. I had found the views and symbolism of Us impressive earlier, but now they actually hit a nerve and moved me without scaring me senseless. My wall of fear had been shattered to reveal the multiple emotions that the movie is capable of provoking. 

**HUGE SPOILERS AHEAD**

Adelaide Wilson (Lupita Nyong'o) is returning to her childhood beachfront home for a vacation, this time with her own family (Winston Duke, Shahadi Wright Joseph, Evan Alex). Haunted by a bizarre encounter from her girlhood, Adelaide is apprehensive and on edge. One night, the vacation bliss ends when the Wilsons' ominous doppelgängers appear and start terrorizing them. Who are they and where did they come from?

With the existential angst of Get Out, Jordan Peele has proven himself to be a unique genre voice. With the multilayered metaphor that is Us, he proves himself to be one of the best new horror auteurs. It is a completely different film from his Oscar-winning debut and yes, it is frightening and does its job. Having explored the terror of racism in his first film, Peele turns his attention to the deep divide between the haves and the have-nots in his sophomore effort, even using his country's abbreviated name in the wordplay title for sharpened emphasis. Be as it may, the contrast between the plentiful lives of people living above the ground and the inane, futile lives of the Tethered is mirrored -- pun intended -- in every social and class divide in the entire world, of which there are many. The current inequity in health care and vaccine distribution is merely one of these silent conflicts; in the Global North, we are all literally walking all over more than 100 countries that have yet to administer a single vaccine dose. If technology advances have served over time to show a serious disconnect in personal relationships, the COVID-19 pandemic has been a rude awakening, hammering us into the realization that all lives are connected. Anything that anyone does in this world impacts the rest of it. The final two scenes hit a high note. If the movie makes audiences ponder identity and the concept of nature-vs-nurture, the last two scenes turn our understanding of these concepts upside down and make us question everything that we just saw. Special mention must go to the sinister score by Michael Abels, which makes the already terrifying proceedings that much drearier.

Now for some goofs. As original as the movie is, it asks for a lot in terms of suspension of disbelief. How come no one has ever found out about the clones? Was each and every piece of documentation burned? The idea seems far-fetched. Also, how come the clones have even the few things that they do? Who provides anything to them? Let us say that it is the government, since that seems plausible. Finally, how come that the clones were able to move independently of the "originals" above ground while they were organizing the rebellion? These misses do not impact the overall effect of Us, but do seem like glitches in an otherwise well oiled machine. 

The cast is fantastic, particularly considering that each actor plays two roles. Nyong'o is a standout as the frightened fighter Adelaide and the resentful and menacing Red. Some organizations have vilified the actor for using spasmodic dysphonia as one of her inspirations for Red's voice, but the screenplay does offer great justification for it. Also, yes, the character is a villain in terms of the crimes that she and the other Tethered commit, but can never be seen as clearly black or white. Duke is good as a sweet family man, whose hulking and violent  doppelgänger Abraham is his polar opposite. Elisabeth Moss is excellent as the Wilsons' vain, image-obsessed friend Kitty, whose fed up double Dahlia has been paying dearly for her indulgences throughout her life.

Us is one of those movies for which timing is paramount. If you see it on a regular day in a regular year, it might be a horror film that you see in passing or one that gives you sleepless nights. If you see it in the midst of personal or global turmoil, it might be something more -- an allegory for chaos that reflects on it like the mirror images in its funhouse. A shapeshifter parable, Us is a piece worth interpreting and one that takes time to show off its multitudes.

On a final note, as big of a fan as I am of the original, I am still on the fence about seeing the new, Peele-produced Candyman. The trailer gives off Us vibes... but give me time. You just never know.

7/10 

Emancipated or Emaciated: The Sustenance of Julia Ducournau's Raw

"I think we have a right to change course. But society is the one that keeps demanding that we fit in and not disturb things. They would like you to fit in right away so that things work now.”

- Anaïs Nin

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

What is conformity? Is it a desire to fit in or simply a refusal to be singled out, a refusal to be a “troublemaker”? Julia Ducournau, the newly minted Palme D'Or winner for Titane, takes on these questions in her debut feature Raw. The film examines them through the perspective of female identity and sexuality, taking us for a wild journey across the spectrum of emotions and intrigue, disorienting us one minute and dealing a psychological blow the next. While posing a multitude of its own hypnotic queries, Raw answers the principal questions by categorically delineating conformity as a denial of the true self -- a step too far from individual freedom.

Prodigious teenager Justine (Garance Marillier) has just started her first year at a prestigious veterinary school, joining her brash and lively sister Alexia (Ella Rumpf). When Justine -- a vegetarian -- is forced to eat meat as part of a hazing ritual, her life starts changing and an unfamiliar taste for flesh and blood starts growing within... 

It is too easy to dismiss Raw as a “typical” example of the New French Extremity and refuse to give it a chance, based on the plot and the trailer, and especially based on the violent reactions of some audiences. It is expected to consider a film dealing with cannibalism as overwhelming and to be wary of scenes that one might encounter, especially nowadays, when we are all trying to escape the relentless news cycle. I should know -- I initially refused to ever watch it. I refused to let it into my mind and into my life. I did not wish to go through what seemed like a somber and unsettling experience when I first saw the trailer, only to decide to take a chance on it while flicking through channels one night. 

And… it is a unique epiphany, a jagged-yet-tender tale, a thought-provoking odyssey. This is not a film that will scare you out of your wits and keep you up at night. This is a brazen and sensual creation borne out of blood and passion, a film in which one discovers something new with every viewing. Raw is a feminist epiphany, an ode to lust and desire and wanting and yearning beyond yearning. Simply put, it is a cardinal error to take Raw at face value. It is not a lurid, banal slasher about cannibalism, gore and guts. Some of its scenes are uncomfortable, but they are meant to be; desire and evolving can be chaotic, confusing even. Some scenes might make viewers feel ill, as they did with those audiences when the film first came out in 2016, but this is the side effect of its point. The film is a gritty and erotic depiction of female sexuality and liberty, as well as society’s expectations and censorship of women. 

Throughout the film, tales intertwine with Justine’s story, depressing and all too truthful tales of women with disordered eating and body-shaming experiences. A doctor that Justine sees has a traumatized patient to tell her about. Justine’s father tells her loud and clear not to have two daughters. Not wearing an evening dress has an unforeseen outcome. A trucker who harasses Justine’s friend Adrien (Rabah Nait Oufella) quickly withdraws when he sees her chowing down on a hearty meal. The female body is apparently not meant to be shaped and molded to the will of its owner, only to the will of ancient history and outdated norms. Female freedom is unheralded and dangerous and female hunger even more so. Its lust borders on the animalistic, its forbidden pleasures seeping into convention. One has to escape or contain it. There is no other way to survive the risk that it poses.

Containing and occasionally caging the wild is a theme running through the film. No one proves this more than Alexia, Raw’s symbol of ultimate independence. We first meet her literally shaking her ass in a club and loving it, sweating up a storm, exploding through her youth and having fun. But she is different, this person who lives life to the beat of her own heart and outside the realm of everyday grind. Even in a sea of fellow outcasts, she somehow stands out. She is too out there and too intense, as a couple of characters perceive her. In fact, she is the epitome of liberation, enjoying her senior status at the school, existing for and because of -- some of those naysayers might say in spite of -- her untamed individuality. There is no rhyme or reason to conformity; life is too short. 

Alexia is also the first one to recognize Justine’s growing need. In one of Raw’s most shocking and unexpected twists, Alexia almost dies, causing a car crash in the process. As Justine looks on, wanting to rescue the two passengers, Alexia comes closer and starts feasting on some savory flesh. Hoping to teach her sister what she must do in order to survive, Alexia does not offer compromise or any other options, but Justine is not ready for the lesson and quickly runs away. It is no coincidence that both passengers in the wrecked car are male. A metaphor cocooned in a unique horror moment, the scene explores women’s survival in a world still largely governed by convention set long ago by the ruling patriarchy. Gorge without thinking, as Alexia instructs; do not be bashful and do not wait, because the world does not care and will not wait for you to make up your mind and start living authentically.

When more twists and turns start occurring, Alexia pays the price. Unable to coexist and survive, she is ultimately overwhelmed by her desire. She is already a wild bird in the societal cage, having created her own freedom within, but it is not enough. In the end, Justine does not have the heart to take Alexia’s freedom away, obliteration following in the wake of sisterly love. A tragic figure wrecked by her need for liberty against all odds, Alexia never stood a chance. The contrast between her first and last scene is stark and deliberate, especially considering her initial landscape of sound and color and rebellion and her final and rather different landscape of involuntary order and sterility. The hunter becomes the hunted. The ultimate victor becomes the ultimate victim. Justine’s reflection in her sister’s face is a warning: you know that we are the same. No one around us does, but you do; you know that we share a secret that kills, a spirit that cannot be explained or tamed. This could be you someday. This could be you, the barren room echoes. Without a resolution, Justine is forced to navigate her future on her own, a haunting spectre of cautious freedom hanging over her every decision and action.

Blood and its politics plays a pivotal role in Raw, with Ducournau wisely separating its potency from horror clichés. Blood is the power that the older veterinary students have over the newbies, as well as nourishment for a Justine awakened from what turns out to be repressed stupor. It is the harbinger of doom following the first kiss between Justine and Alexia’s parents -- a sign of an uncompromising, hereditary trait that our society inevitably sees as a frightening aberration. It is as much a threat as it is food that the characters gorge on, with Raw firmly placing it in the universe of humanity. A character unto itself, blood is not generally representative of carnage here; the substance is life itself. It is the only entity that moves freely in Ducournau’s vision, with all other characters bound to one thing or another in their lives -- Justine to her newfound inclinations, Alexia to her uninhibited yet prohibited lifestyle and Adrien to his repressed sexuality. Blood is an unchained force of nature, its energy and effects limitless.  

As such, blood happens to be Raw’s symbol of freedom and its currency, with Ducournau deftly exchanging it for original and genuine sequences of lush passion gone extreme. Blood does not drip; it gushes. It washes over, spills out, stains the skin. It makes its presence known, it invades the story in the first scene where we see it and stays with us like a shadow. It is messy and unfamiliar, delicious and taboo. We do not talk about it, even though we are not alive without it. The sanguine abandon stands in stark contrast to the restraint constantly placed on both Justine and Alexia, as well as their parents and -- in another way altogether -- on Adrien. The two sisters and Adrien are stifled and deprived throughout the narrative, needing permission to be themselves. Their biological needs and sexual desires are consciously or unknowingly served up on a silver platter for society to inspect and judge, and they have no choice but to occasionally violently take what is theirs. Similarly to Justine and Alexia’s unbound lust for carnal joy, blood traditionally stays in the corner like a naughty pupil whose teacher is unaware of their true potential. Ducournau allows it to take its rightful place and flood the proceedings with its organic intensity, opening the essence of life up and letting it run amok in an exuberant and unbridled manner.

Paradoxically, the instances of loss, the act of pouring out and the effects of death correspond with sustenance in Raw. Alexia losing part of a limb incites the first step in Justine’s transformation. The paint pouring out and blending in the hazing game leads to Justine getting nourishment. The car accident and the near loss of life leads to Alexia eating. Death and loss provokes Raw's life into a vibrant dash, even if it is a downward spiral and vicious cycle for some. At the same time, the sole comparison that the film offers for this kind of existence is to another extreme, when a girl offers disordered eating tips to Justine in a bathroom. Contrary to Justine and Alexia’s needs, this kind of loss does not provoke life -- it is not borne out of one’s wish to please oneself, but out of desperation to fulfill impossible standards. When compared to purging and torturing yourself, it is better to live.       

The cast is well chosen and apt in their interpretations of the film’s depth. Marillier is a revelation as a delicate prodigy whose attitude and self-awareness progresses through another kind of education. Rumpf is one of the most charismatic performers that I have seen in a while. She walks that ambiguous line between the feminine and the masculine, making gutsy choices as Alexia, an uninhibited being whose desire has no bounds and who crosses a line that society has set. Oufella imbues Adrien with vulnerability and a unique sense of understanding for Justine's struggle. Her quandaries are not Adrien’s own, but he recognizes his search and perplexity in hers; however, he eventually has to detach himself and leave her to it, establishing his own identity.

Raw depicts a reality rarely discussed through a daring and never before seen lens. It is a trip through rules that the female population is often expected to strictly adhere to, even in the 21st century. The narrative makes it clear that there are consequences for disobedience. Be smart, but do not forget restraint... or should we say restraints? Be bold, but do not stray from your circle. Be eloquent, but do not forget your place.

Be yourself, but thread carefully.

9/10