Say Yes to Nope
To be successfully concise is often a difficult feat. However, with short, yet meaningful titles like Get Out, Us, and most recently, Nope, Jordan Peele has continually proven that fewer words can speak louder. Nope, written, produced, and directed by Peele, is his third and most recent effort in contemporary horror. While the concept of the film, a family’s attempt to capture alien behavior on camera, is not necessarily unique, the way Peele goes about it makes it stand out. This visually striking film isn’t as scary as the trailers make it out to be, but instead it is a story about family bond, the history and importance of the black community in filmmaking, and of course, alien invasion.
When the first trailer for Nope was revealed, there was absolutely no way of knowing what it was about. At that point, it wasn’t even clear the plot was about aliens. However, when the second, and longer, trailer rolled out, the basic plot-points were shown and it looked like we were in for a scary tale of alien invasion. The idea ascertained from the second trailers was more on-point, but still did not accurately establish the feeling of the film. Nope isn’t a horror film, or a comedy, or a drama, or a western – it’s all these things rolled into one.
Nope follows siblings Emerald and O.J. Haywood on their California horse ranch. There, the siblings raise horses to be used on film sets. In the past, Peele has done an incredible job at highlighting the role of black history and individuals in cinema through his filmmaking. In Nope, he takes this a step further by giving audiences a history lesson. The siblings’ ancestry leads back to the black horse jockey captured in the very first film motion picture – Eadweard Muybridge’s The Horse in Motion. This demonstrates the legacy of black filmmakers that people like Peele are continuing through their storytelling. Nope is very much a movie about the entertainment industry, but in a very different way than we are used to seeing.
While Get Out and Us were more obviously frightening, Nope had a light-hearted touch throughout the film, possibly to add contrast to the social commentary of this film and Peele’s past films. Maybe it was Keke Palmer’s unrivaled charisma or the ability of characters to just say “nope” to the horrors surrounding them. Even the aliens in the film weren’t visually frightening, instead they were gigantic flower-like creatures in the sky. In the end, this was still a horror film with some very gory bits (audiences will have a new fear of chimpanzees after that gory scene). It seems to be that the majority of the scariest scenes made it into the cut for the trailer. This set the audience up for a horror film, but they received something slower and more thoughtful. In the end, the only jump scares in this film were played for comedic purposes. The majority of the movie consisted of character-building as well as a dramatic landscape.
Overall, Nope is no Get Out. However, Peele’s third film is a solid effort with excellent characters. While the plot may not be the driver of this film, the eerie desert landscape and expansive visual effects hold the film together. With Nope, Jordan Peele solidifies himself as the reigning king of horror with a thrilling tale of alien invasion.
Popular Reviews
Project Hail Mary is an adaptation of Andy Weir’s 2021 novel of the same name. It follows science teacher Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling) after he wakes up on a spaceship with no memory of how he got there. As his memory returns, he also gains an unlikely friendship in Rocky the Eridian alien. The acting is great, the screenplay is charming and full of heart, and the visuals are striking.
If you asked most people a few years ago who was “winning” indie horror, the answer would've been obvious: A24, of course. But between 2021 and now, something shifted. Not all at once and not always clearly, but deliberately. While A24 horror started to feel scattered, Neon built something more strategic.
What’s interesting is that Neon didn’t start with a clear horror identity at all. It was built over time, and I track that evolution in three distinct pseudo-phases: pre-Titane, post-Titane, and post-Longlegs. Each phase had a different strategy. First it was discovering talent, then experimenting with identity, and finally scaling into something that looks a lot like dominance.
Last year marked the fiftieth anniversary of the death of one of the most important filmmakers of all time. In early November 1975, Pier Paolo Pasolini was murdered. Perhaps the killing was carried out by the militant right-wing group Banda della Magliana–or maybe by an overzealous fan. The case remains open in Rome after the original suspect retracted his confession more than twenty years ago.
I undertake to rank all twelve of Pasolini’s feature films. Of course, the scope of his oeuvre extends beyond these; I recommend in particular his street documentary Love Meetings and his excellent meta short film La Ricotta.
Emerald Fennell said as much herself: "The thing for me is that you can't adapt a book as dense and complicated and difficult as this book. I can't say I'm making ‘Wuthering Heights.’ It's not possible. What I can say is I'm making a version of it." She put the title in quotation marks intentionally, providing a disclaimer that this film is not the classic text. Every adaptation imposes a vision, turning the source material into something else.
Even the most devoted cinephiles rarely tune in to the nominees for the Academy Award for Best Documentary Short. Most film buffs, myself included, don’t make it to the short film programs or indie showcases where these films typically screen, and many of them quickly disappear into obscurity after their premieres. Perhaps because of this invisibility, documentary shorts have the potential to carry some of the sharpest political messages in today’s cinema. This year’s nominees certainly exemplify this potential, covering urgent topics like gun violence, war, protest, reproductive rights, and, um, wandering donkeys. Despite their small audiences, these films deserve a closer look. They are brimming with provocative voices, even if this year’s particular batch sometimes fails to stick the landing.
More in Horror Reviews
If you asked most people a few years ago who was “winning” indie horror, the answer would've been obvious: A24, of course. But between 2021 and now, something shifted. Not all at once and not always clearly, but deliberately. While A24 horror started to feel scattered, Neon built something more strategic.
What’s interesting is that Neon didn’t start with a clear horror identity at all. It was built over time, and I track that evolution in three distinct pseudo-phases: pre-Titane, post-Titane, and post-Longlegs. Each phase had a different strategy. First it was discovering talent, then experimenting with identity, and finally scaling into something that looks a lot like dominance.
15 years ago today, Daren Aronofsky’s psychological thriller Black Swan hit theaters for the first time. The film was seen as a return to form for the director, bringing back much of the neurotic style that his infamous 2000 film Requiem for a Dream had–now dressed in the suffocating clothes of ballet instead of drug induced paranoia. In the time between these two films, Aronofsky released the oddball sci-fi film The Fountain (2006) to mixed reviews, and the quiet and candid The Wrestler (2008) to slightly better reception. Both of these films were a stark departure from Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream and Aronofsky’s affinity for reveling in his audience's misery. Now 15 years since its release, Black Swan has seen continued life in the misguided discourses of social media comment sections. Before I critique these discourses however, I would like to critically discuss the film detached from its legacy and reception.
I didn’t like The Substance at first, likely because I was trying to avoid the reality that most women, indeed, are victims. That conversations around women’s bodies go beyond mere comments or jokes—they compose our being. They dictate how long others deem us worthwhile partners or employees. They tell us to spend our New Year’s at the gym instead of with our families. To spend that extra minute dawdling in front of the bathroom mirror. To gawk when we see a woman over 60 on our movie screen. And that no matter how good at your job you are, everyone is talking about your boobs.
I first argue for extending the class of common constructs for analyzing horror media to two more constructs: constraints and character responses. I then analyze horror films belonging to the Fourth Cinema, i.e. Indigenous cinema as described by Barry Barclay. I plan to argue that these films have a distinct conceptualization of these three constructs that stems from ideas about community.
There are few villains in cinema more iconic than Michael Myers. From his misshapen William Shatner mask to his trademark kitchen knife, mere suggestions of these images are enough to send chills down the spines of generations of Americans, even for those who haven’t seen the Halloween films. I’ll be honest with you from the start: I don’t like Halloween very much, but give me a chance to explain.
This visually striking film isn’t as scary as the trailers make it out to be, but instead it is a story about family bond, the history and importance of the black community in filmmaking, and of course, alien invasion.
Fresh has all the ingredients to be the perfect modern thriller. It’s a black comedy about the horrors of modern dating starring Daisy Edgar-Jones and Sebastian Stan. There are plenty of mundane horrors to be had in the dating world, but Fresh ups the stakes and throws a cannibal into the dating pool.
Only the Scream franchise would introduce the word “re-quel” – a term so cinematically dense – into its already meta screenplay and premise. I expect nothing less from a series that has psycho-analyzed the totality of the horror genre while simultaneously creating its own expansive, trope-filled storyline. And in an age of tired reboots and sequels of once original and groundbreaking cinema, you would think that the new Scream would be equally as tired, especially with the franchise being in the state it was in prior to this installment. But 2022’s Scream proudly proclaims that this reboot is exactly what the franchise needed.
Of all the movies you’ve ever seen, how many of them can you specifically remember? Not just when and where you saw them, but who you were with, maybe even where you were sitting and what you chose to eat. For me there’s a lot of nostalgia tied up with doing this. I remember my life changing as a four year old being taken to see Star Wars in 1977 by my dad, as a special afternoon treat away from the hospital where I was undergoing long-term treatment for a collapsed lung.
Last Night in Soho, a film directed by British filmmaker Edgar Wright, lives in between the 1960s and modern times in London, England. Starring staples of British stardom Anya-Taylor Joy (Sandie), Matt Smith (Jack), briefly Sam Claflin (Lindsey), and Thomasin McKenzie (Eloise/Ellie), this film follows the life of Eloise Turner, a young aspiring fashion designer with an infatuation with the swinging sixties of London as she navigates her extraordinary ability to body-jump into another young woman in her dreams.
When I was a kid, I used to lose myself in the Fighting Fantasy ‘choose your own adventure’ books. I’d map out the best paths through the story, making copious notes on optimal outcomes with deadly creatures trying to cut my reading short and my limbs shorter. I’d play along with dice, and unlike my reckless friends, try not to skip ahead to see if my choices were the right ones. If I died, I started over, and there was a tremendous sense of achievement in being able to successfully remember how to get to the end with one’s life intact.
What is the recipe for success for a half-hour comedy these days? Apparently, it's to take a beloved New Zealand mockumentary about vampires and adapt it to American television.
What We Do in the Shadows, helmed by Oscar-winning Taika Watiti and Jermaine Clement of the original 2014 film of the same name, is a vampire-centric mockumentary-style show entering its third season. For those unfamiliar with the show, the main premise is that a group of centuries-old vampires emigrate to Staten Island from Europe, hoping to conquer the New World, but end up just being roommates in a dilapidated manor, getting into weekly shenanigans.
Not a fan of horror? Well, this is the perfect ghost-themed show for you. Full disclosure: I hate horror movies. Whether it’s because of the jump-scares, eerie music or avoidable bad choices made by the protagonist, horror movies have never been my style. I have, however, always been fascinated by the idea of spirits and ghosts and can’t help but ask the same question whenever I watch a horror movie: what happens to all the normal people who die? Are all ghosts really vengeful spirits or creepy kids?
I Blame Society is a terrifyingly brilliant satirical film that touches upon many important issues of our time: sexism, art, crime, and Hollywood disillusion. Directed by Gillian Horvat & co-written by herself and Chase Williamson, the semi-fictional story follows ‘Gillian’ (a semi-fictional character played by Horvat herself), as she works on a film based on a semi-compliment from a few of her friends that she would make a good murderer. Frustrated by the constant rejection and belittling of her talent, Gillian decides to take the film to the finish line completely on her own, exploring how far her character can go in planning murders, while taking a camera with her wherever she goes no matter how her friends or boyfriend feel about it.
