Jordan Peele’s name carries weight in modern genre cinema. As a director, he’s given us razor-sharp horror with Get Out and Us, and as a producer he’s often backed bold new voices (Candyman, Monkey Man). With Him, Peele hands the reins to Justin Tipping (Kicks), who attempts to fuse sports drama, horror, and social commentary into one fever dream. The ambition is undeniable, but the execution proves more frustrating than fascinating. What could have been an unsettling exploration of fame and masculinity is instead a chaotic, exhausting experiment in style over substance.
A Promising Kick-Off
At first, Him sets the stage with the kind of sports underdog story that should feel familiar. Cameron “Cam” Cade (Tyriq Withers, I Know What You Did Last Summer) is introduced as a star quarterback destined for the NFL. His father’s relentless pressure to succeed has shaped him since childhood, and his big break finally seems within reach. But just before a crucial scouting event, Cam is violently attacked by a masked figure and suffers a traumatic brain injury.
Doctors advise him to give up football for good, but Cam refuses. Pushed forward by his opportunistic agent (Tim Heidecker), he jumps at the chance to train with his idol Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), a legendary quarterback with a cult following of his own. The setup suggests a tense character study of ambition, obsession, and the dangers of pushing past human limits. Unfortunately, once Cam enters White’s desert compound, Him begins to spiral.
From Sports Drama to Surreal Horror
It doesn’t take long for Cam’s dream training opportunity to morph into nightmare fuel. On the way to White’s compound, Cam encounters grotesque cult-like figures, hinting that something sinister lurks beneath the glossy sports surface. When he arrives, White confiscates his phone, declaring that “radical detachment” from the outside world is part of the process.
What follows is a barrage of bizarre and increasingly brutal “training” sessions. White subjects Cam to violent psychological intimidation, belittling him as “an emotional little pretty boy.” Meanwhile, a fellow athlete becomes collateral damage, used as a punching bag in drills where footballs are hurled at his face whenever Cam misses a pass. Add in repeated injections, suspicious blood transfusions, and visions that blur reality and nightmare, and you’ve got a stew of surreal horror elements that never quite mesh into something coherent.
Acting in a Losing Game
Withers does his best with the material, conveying Cam’s desperation and pain with limited dialogue. It’s a role that relies heavily on physicality, and Withers proves compelling enough to carry the weight of Cam’s torment. Unfortunately, the script gives him little depth beyond suffering in silence.
Marlon Wayans is the real wildcard. Known for his comedic career, he commits fully to Isaiah White in a rare dramatic role. At times, his intensity works—White feels menacing and unpredictable—but too often the performance teeters into over-the-top theatrics. What should have been a terrifying portrait of a fallen idol instead plays closer to unintentional parody. Julia Fox, as White’s unsettling girlfriend, and Jim Jefferies, as a sarcastic sports doctor, are wasted in roles that add color but no substance.
When Style Becomes a Distraction
Visually, Him is striking. Kira Kelly’s cinematography is razor-sharp, with bold lighting choices and surreal compositions that echo early Aronofsky. Editing is frantic and deliberate, with every cut designed to be noticed. The problem is that these stylistic flourishes quickly become overwhelming. Rather than immersing the audience, the constant visual noise distracts from what little story there is. At times, the movie resembles a glossy Nike commercial more than a psychological horror.
Themes Buried in the Noise
Beneath the chaos, Him clearly wants to say something meaningful. The film toys with themes of toxic masculinity, the commodification of athletes, racial identity, and the corrosive nature of fame. But none of these ideas are fully developed. Instead, they’re buried beneath layers of surreal imagery and shock-value brutality. The final act, which aims for a feverish crescendo, feels more confusing than cathartic.
Final Thoughts
Him had all the ingredients for a bold, genre-defying hit: a fresh director, a hungry lead actor, a veteran star stretching into dramatic territory, and Jordan Peele’s backing. Instead, it collapses under the weight of its own ambition. There are moments of intrigue and flashes of visual brilliance, but the lack of narrative clarity, uneven performances, and exhausting style make it more of an ordeal than an experience.
It’s easy to admire the attempt—Tipping clearly wants to swing for the fences—but ambition alone doesn’t make a great film. For every chilling idea, there are three baffling choices that derail the momentum. By the time the credits roll, you’ll feel drained, but not in the way great horror leaves you shaken.
Verdict: 2 stars – Him is stylish and ambitious but fatally incoherent, a missed opportunity buried under excess.
