‘Him’ movie review: Pretty frames and little else mark this Marlon Wayans-Tyriq Withers vehicle

This is not a Jordan Peele film. The Nope and Get Out director has produced Him, which is directed by Justin Tipping. With that out of the way and also the wildly misleading trailer marketing the film as horror, what we are left with is an exceedingly beautiful, slightly unsettling movie that meanders past some interesting concepts to a bloody, brutal ending.  

Him is not a blood, guts and gore horror film. Unfortunately, no heads are fed into wood chippers (sigh). Incidentally, it is not a sports film either, and definitely not one of those with the training montage set to a rousing anthem from the ‘80s, where the talented youngster shows the entitled prat what makes a true winner.

While it is not any of these things, it is also about all of them; from football, ageing, retiring, and toxic fans to dodgy doctors and pushy parents. Since he was a cute little boy, Cam (Tyriq Withers) lived and breathed football, aided and abetted by his father, Cam Sr. (Don Benjamin).

The film begins with Cam sitting in front of the telly waiting for the game to start. Legendary quarterback for the San Antonio Saviors, Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans) suffers a horrific on-field injury but Cam Sr. tells his wide-eyed son, real men do not let an injury get in the way of greatness.

Fast forward to Cam on the brink of greatness, about to attend the Combine and land a sweet deal, when an attack by a crazed fan leaves him with probable brain damage. Just as things seem to be falling apart, Cam’s manager, Tom (Tim Heidecker), offers him a dream deal — a week’s mentorship with his idol, Isaiah.

A still from ‘Him’
| Photo Credit:
Universal Pictures

Cam sets out for Isaiah’s remote desert compound with great hopes. He meets Isaiah’s vaguely sinister crew including his outright creepy influencer wife, Elsie (Julia Fox), the sad and strange doctor, Marco (Jim Jefferies) and other fighters.

Each day is dedicated to one aspect of training including pain, vision and sacrifice. Cam finds himself going down a rabbit hole of toxic visions, including one of himself in a Last Supper–like configuration, and troubling violence.

Are the visions a product of the drugs Cam is injected with, the brain injury, or the supernatural? One also wonders if artists’ visions are prettier than those of non-artists. A wandering mind is not a good sign in a supernatural thriller, just saying.

The movie drifts, like Cam’s mind, through lovely, symmetrical frames until the rather unsatisfactory bloodbath at the end. Wayans and Withers do what they can with the confusing material. The music drips like chocolate in the veins.

If you were to go into Him without watching trailers or expecting a Jordan Peele film, you’d either be pleasantly surprised or you might just bite your arm in frustration at the lost opportunities for smart takedowns of all the malaise of modern times.

Him is currently running in theatres