Written by William Brooks
Something is lurking in the clouds above the Agua Dulce desert, and it’s so hungry it could eat a horse (or seven).
The date is November 25th 2006, and Jordan Peele has just begun rhythmically massaging Keegan-Michael Key’s exposed belly while meowing the snake charmer song in an attempt to increase his chances of winning at Deal or No Deal. Yes, the road to era-defining visionary auteur is often paved with such tribulations, but alas, the confines of MADtv could only shackle such brilliance for so long.
Nowadays of course, Peele is recognised as the preeminent creator-mogul of acclaimed horror film and television. You can find him on the covers of Vanity Fair and GQ—often adorned in a sophisticated black suit jacket and oversized glasses—staring off into the distance contemplatively. The words “subversive” and “genius” now doggedly cling to him like so many arse hair nuggets after an ill-advised dairy binge.
Illustration by William Brooks
Happily, our newly anointed God has taken a break from desecrating The Twilight Zone in order to helm his third feature film as writer/director. This time he brings a wealth of talent along for the ride in order to realise his most ambitious project to date. Hoyte van Hoytema’s sumptuous 65mm photography relishes muted deserts below and ominous churning skies above. Michael Abels’ score oscillates seamlessly between sinister throbs and telling nods to classic western themes. Ruth De Jong imprints her role as production designer with a myriad of typically evocative sets. And then there’s the excellent cast.
The film reunites Peele with Daniel Kaluuya, who is joined by Keke Palmer as a chalk-and-cheese sibling duo running Haywood’s Hollywood Horses following the mysterious death of their father Otis Haywood Sr. (Keith David). While OJ (Kaluuya) adheres to a rocky stoicism that makes Clint Eastwood seem like Jim Carrey; Em (Palmer) lives her days as one excitable performance opportunity after another. In these roles both actors are perfect foils for one another, with her endless energy delightfully ricocheting off his static and monosyllabic persona. Also in the mix is Ricky “Jupe” Park—played with unnerving perfection by Steven Yeun—a former child actor whose life is marked by a tragic and traumatic event from his past. A tech-savvy conspiracy nut (Brandon Perea) and a veteran cinematographer with a voice like E.T. gargling gravel (Michael Wincott) complete the ensemble.
Despite their varying personalities, backgrounds and motivations, it’s surprisingly easy to unite all these characters under a single front, namely when an opportunity presents itself to catch “the Oprah shot”, or concrete, irrefutable UFO footage that TV hosts and news outlets would pay thousands for. This all ties in to the most prevalent thematic track of Nope: the element of spectacle. Peele chooses to invoke it by including a biblical verse, Nahum 3:6, as a preamble: “And I will cast abominable filth upon thee, and make thee vile, and will set thee as a spectacle”.
Spectacle in this sense constitutes an all-encompassing blanket of unreality which permeates every facet of our screen-obsessed modern culture. Despite Nope’s blunt, count-me-out title, spectacle culture is not something you can opt out of in reality, and it will suck you in all the same. When OJ and Emerald realise there’s some kind of a flying saucer lurking in the clouds, their first impulse is to capture it on film and own their own representation of it. From there, the ill-advised pursuit of fame and fortune through commodification is a strong throughline that is only slightly undercut by the film’s ultimate resolution.
Above all, Nope commands attention because it’s so conscious about itself being a spectacle and it’s asking us to decide whether it works as more than just the fun time which it absolutely is. Many have heralded Peele’s arrival into the realm of the Spielbergian, but in truth this genre mashup of comedy, science-fiction, modern western and monster-based suspense brought to mind a sort of reverse Tremors (1990). What holds it back in this regard is Peele’s continuing struggle with exposition scenes in general, and the underwritten nature of his main characters. In other words, Nope got close, but it wasn’t quite Perfection, NV.
Despite these thrills, Nope never compromises in its continuation of Peele’s reckoning-with-racism theme following the excellent Get Out (2017) and unfocused Us (2019). This time it is achieved specifically through the history of cinema and its intersection with the experience of black Americans to create a backstory that permeates virtually every frame of the film. It is a far grander and more elusive allegory this time round, and will undoubtedly invite endless debate and interpretation among Peele’s dedicated fanbase for years to come. For horror nerd internet discourse at least, Nope springs eternal.
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