Jordan Peele’s Get Out was hailed as a revolutionary film, lauded for its political commentary and social relevance. It also conveniently ushered in a wave of “smart horror” that supposedly makes you think about race, privilege, and exploitation. Well, it also makes you think about how the hell a horror movie can be both so intense and so painfully obvious. In theory, the premise sounds good—black photographer Chris is invited to his white girlfriend’s (Rose) family’s estate, only to discover that the family is using black bodies as meat suits for their rich, old, white clientele. A little bit of the “stepford wives” mixed with a sprinkle of supernatural horror. But here’s the twist: it’s not so much horror as it is a sloooowly unrolling train wreck of clichés, awkward metaphors, and subpar thriller tropes that could have been better executed with an actual plot.
The Most Overhyped Dinner Party Ever
Let’s talk about the film’s basic premise: Chris, a Black man, heads to the country with his white girlfriend, Rose, to meet her family. Now, I’m not sure why anyone would want to meet their partner’s family during the first few months of dating (that’s just asking for trouble), but Chris proceeds. Things start off suspiciously: Rose’s parents are so welcoming, they practically throw a party in his honor. But before you can say “that’s a little too much,” red flags start popping up everywhere. The house is full of creepy, overly-friendly white people, who make awkward small talk about how “impressed” they are by Chris’ “strong” features. Oh, and everyone acts like they’ve never seen a Black person before. That’s when the movie really starts hammering home the metaphor—because nothing says “I’m not racist” like an elderly woman trying to compliment a Black man’s “physique” while offering him a teacup to drink from. You’re supposed to be uncomfortable, but it’s hard not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of how hard this film is trying to make you feel like something is about to go down.
As the plot unfolds, it’s not long before you realize that everything in this movie has been so obvious from the start. The only real surprise here is how many white people can be crammed into one dinner scene before someone starts talking about “bloodlines” and “organs.” The film’s attempts at being deep and layered fall flat as we watch Chris stare at awkwardly placed antiques, while awkwardly dodging awkward questions about his heritage from people who’ve probably never had an honest conversation about race in their entire life. The whole dinner party sequence feels like Peele is trying to say something, but the only thing he’s really communicating is “You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?”
The Sunken Place—Where Logic Goes to Die
And then there’s the “Sunken Place.” Ah yes, the mental prison where Chris’s consciousness is trapped after being hypnotized by Missy Armitage (played by Catherine Keener). The Sunken Place becomes the visual and thematic representation of black people being held down by white supremacy and societal pressure. Sounds powerful, right? Sure, it could have been, if it wasn’t rendered so literally. Chris’ descent into the Sunken Place becomes a visual metaphor that’s so on-the-nose you could hear it screaming, “Look, look, I’m important! This is the deep part of the movie! You should think about this and feel very smart now!” Sadly, Peele’s best shot at doing something profound turns into a one-dimensional existential pit—literally. Chris falls into a deep, dark void where he can’t move or speak, only watch as a nightmarish version of his life unfolds. It’s one of the few moments of suspense that the movie actually delivers on, but it’s so obvious, it feels like the film is trying to grab your attention and say, “Hey, look! I’m making an important point now. Are you getting it?”
As the movie lumbers along, it becomes clear that Peele’s aim is not to frighten, but to make a statement. And look, we get it. Racism, classism, privilege—these are all things to be critiqued. But what we end up with is less Get Out, more Okay, Really? Get Out Already, We’ve Seen This.
The Overly Friendly White Folks: As Racist As They Are Predictable
The film’s “twist” is one of the worst-kept secrets in modern horror. You don’t need to be a genius to figure out that the Armitage family is up to some shady business. All the warning signs are there: the overly-familiar handshakes, the insistence on staring at Chris for a bit too long, the extremely out-of-place comments about his “strong” features. It’s like Peele wrote the entire film as a “Who’s the Racist?” game, where each piece of dialogue is a clue that tells you how much more evil these people are. Sure, it’s meant to be a satire on white people fetishizing Black culture, but by the time the film hits the point where Chris finds out the truth—people are literally selling black people’s bodies to rich white folks—you’re just left wondering, “Did we need this much build-up for such an obvious payoff?”
It’s hard to take this seriously when it feels like the film is poking fun at itself. The overly friendly white people trope is so heavily exaggerated, it comes off as more comedic than chilling. It’s not subtle, it’s not nuanced—it’s just too much.
The Real Horror: Stretched Metaphors and Lackluster Characters
By the time Chris finally gets the upper hand on his oppressors, the movie shifts from “thriller” to “slightly absurd dark comedy.” The slow burn that starts as a mystery turns into an uncomfortable slog, filled with tired tropes and characters who are more caricatures than real people. The villains are cartoonishly evil, and Chris’s ordeal is something we’ve seen countless times, but with more shouting and less substance. Even the ending feels more like a victory lap for the social commentary than an actual cathartic moment for Chris. As for the characters—well, they’re mostly plot devices serving only to reinforce Peele’s thematic message, rather than being fully fleshed-out people we care about. Even the moments meant to be suspenseful often feel more like Peele is trying too hard to make us uncomfortable without delivering the payoff.
The Verdict: A Horror Film Without Horror
In the end, Get Out is less of a groundbreaking horror masterpiece and more of a Netflix-worthy binge you forget the moment you finish it. Sure, it has its moments—Peele’s direction is strong, and Daniel Kaluuya’s performance is stellar—but the film’s obsession with self-important social commentary stifles its potential. The movie may make you think about race for about 15 minutes after watching it, but then you’ll realize it’s all been said before and far more effectively. Ultimately, Get Out is a film that thinks it’s deep, but it’s more surface-level than a kiddie pool. It’s a commentary wrapped in a horror movie that will leave you with the same question: Is it over yet?
