After the (well-deserved) acclaim of Jordan Peele’s previous two films, Get Out and Us, viewers may start Nope assuming they know roughly what to expect. Coupled with the cryptic nature of the trailers, the impression this viewer entered the film with was I was watching a horror feature, specifically a broader, flashier, more epic horror feature than Peele’s previous work.
These assumptions turned out to be less than correct.
The premise is this: siblings OJ and Emerald Hayewood (a set of mesmerizing performances from Daniel Kaluuya and Keke Palmer) run a Hollywood ranch that supplies horses for films and TV shows, left to them by their late father (Keith David).
We’re told the Hayewood family are direct descendants of an uncredited jockey, featured in the precursor to modern cinema, a series of images laced together to form a moving picture by Eadweard Muybridge. In the present day, however, they are threatened by the popularity of CGI and considering selling their horses to a whimsical neighbouring theme park, run by a former child star Ricky ‘Jupe’ Park (a beguiling and haunted Steve Yeun).
But strange things begin happening - random blackouts, power cuts, escaped horses. When it appears the root cause is a malevolent UFO, OJ and Emerald realize that the struggling family business may be the least of their problems.
This is not a jump-scare horror, but rather one that deals in electrifying imagery and lingering dread. It’s less nerve-shredding than it is creepy, funny and gross. The pacing, while deliberate, is challenging to have faith in at times - it’s very much a film of two halves. Large sections play out more in the vein of a family dramedy or Independence-Day-style blockbuster adventure than a horror, which makes the horror elements feel more visceral and jarring by contrast. This works better than it sounds like it should, in part because of the glorious odd couple dynamic between the two central characters - charismatic, jittery Emerald and simmering, introspective OJ - who despite their contrasting personalities are matched in their intensity.
While it touches on memory and grief, this is very much a film about exposure. It explores trauma, the monetization that trauma and the desire for recognition. The antagonist of the film hovers between implicitly and explicitly being a metaphor for our fame-hungry world - all-consuming, unfeeling, and impossible to ignore.
There’s a lot to love here. Brandan Perea steals every scene he’s in, as an earnest gen-z surveillance cam technician that agrees to help the siblings tape the UFO sightings. There’s an extended scene involving a chimpanzee that contains by far the most arresting imagery I’ve seen onscreen this year. And a weird, innovative depiction of violence that left me deeply unnerved (no spoilers - you’ll know it when you see it).
Peele opens Nope with an ominous Biblical epigraph, the verse of which echoes in various digits in the film. Easter eggs are woven throughout, right into the credits. At this current cinematic moment, viewers are primed to view ‘clever’ films and shows as intricate, puzzle boxes, (think: the work of Christopher Nolan, and the TV show Stranger Things). There’s a promise that the diligent viewer will eventually be able to click all the clues together into a neat, full picture.
To get the most out of Nope, I encourage you to leave those expectations at the door. Peele takes a far more impressionistic approach, colouring in the world he’s created with small details that build to an overwhelming feeling. While Peele’s last film, Us, was also a high concept, heartfelt, and character-driven work, it felt far more popcorny than its successor. This feels like a filmmaker stepping even further into his power, following an uncompromising vision, and inviting us along for the ride.