A Little Subtlety Would Go A Long Way in The Twilight Zone

Many of you were probably watching the Super Bowl when the superbly jarring first ad for Jordan Peele‘s reboot of The Twilight Zone aired, and if you were like me, you thought to yourself, “damn, I should probably check that out.”  Carrying the star power of Peele, who serves as executive producer and de facto host of the reboot of the original series (first aired from 1959 to 1964, and also revived on two separate occasions in 1985 and 2002), 2019’s version of The Twilight Zone clearly hopes to draw fans of the director, who is currently riding quite the high in the wake of the success of Get Out and, more recently, Us.  It’s often quite hard to come to terms with the fact that less than four years ago, Peele was more predominantly doing stuff like this, but either way, he’s engaging in a creative realm that’s seemingly far different now, and after 7 episodes (the series premiered a little over a month ago on April 1st), I thought I’d add my voice to the critical response that – especially from a general audience perspective – has been middling.

It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge.

The Twilight Zone for the most part relies on the by all accounts successful formula of the original incarnation of the series, featuring disconnected episodes that typically begin with a short intro of that episode’s characters, a brief enigmatic interlude by Peele himself (typically having been in the background of the opening scene the whole time, looking dapper in a suit and tie), and a visually gonzo title sequence that invites the viewers into the mysterious Twilight Zone, where seemingly anything is possible so long as it’s decidedly eerie.  While each episode has a wholly different story, writer-director team and a different principle cast, what links each is an overarching visual acuity and high production value along with the occasional Easter Egg harkening back to either a previous episode in the revival or a story element from the version way back in the 1960’s (Northern GoldStar Airlines has shown up a few times, and Whipple is essentially everywhere, it seems).

Tracy Morgan‘s guest spot in “The Comedian” is probably the series’ best yet.

The biggest knock I have to level against this new version of The Twilight Zone is the preponderance of what I’ll for now call preachiness in certain episodes.  The presence of timely hot-button issues in “Replay,” (which deals with police brutality and racism within the context of a time-travel mechanic) and “The Wunderkind” (which touches on the idea of a country led by a literal kid president) is not wholly unwelcome, but the societal questions that they aim to address are handled in a way that’s anything but subtle.  “The Wunderkind” in particular finds John Cho in excellent form (who I’ve really been enjoying recently, since Searching and, to an extent, Columbus), but the on-the-nose nature of the political content within the episode turns it into more of a farce than a meaningful treatise on the flaws that Peele and company see within the confines of the current political system.  While societal subtext is arguably what has made Peele’s feature film efforts so prosperous, long-form quasi-satirical horror may simply be a better venue for it than a vignette-based show that’s more overtly focused on what it means to be human and interact with other humans within unsettling – and more often than not paranormal – circumstances.

The need for bodycams has never been more apparent than in the events of “Replay.”

My favorite episode thus far is still probably “Nightmare at 30,000 Feet,” the second episode, which finds Adam Scott, a distinctly paranoid journalist, unraveling a plot to crash the very plane he’s on via a mysteriously omniscient podcast.  Strongly written (this is the only episode to date on which Peele has story credit, which I feel is important) and acted, and with an unsettling and unresolving ending that’s emblematic of the Twilight Zone of old, it’s good clean fun that still endeavors to state something about the human condition and its intricacies without the at times incessant politicking of some of the other episodes that I’ve already mentioned.  Similarly grounded in its devotion to sci-fi/paranormal storytelling and limited subtext is “The Comedian,” which features Kumail Nanjiani learning some difficult lessons about the cost of fame, “A Traveler,” a Christmas-set episode that examines an Alaskan cop’s investigation into a mysterious internet-famous tourist (The Walking Dead‘s Steven Yeun), and “Six Degrees of Freedom,” in which the crew of the first Martian expedition struggles to maintain their grip on reality while en route to the red planet in the wake of a seeming nuclear holocaust on Earth.

Greg Kinnear is probably due a feature role as a doofy police chief based on his turn in “The Traveler.”

In any case, and based on my experience with The Twilight Zone after watching six episodes, the reboot is one that clearly fancies itself to be an instrument of social commentary, and – perhaps more ambitiously – social change.  It’s a version of Black Mirror that supplants the shaking of fists at the iCloud (Charlie Brooker‘s words, not mine) with occasional allegorical and subtextual discussion of left-leaning social and political ideals, and this is perhaps most clearly evinced by the title of the latest episode, “Not All Men,” which I have not yet watched.  To me, the show has been at its best so far with the more purely dystopic or paranormal fare upon which it should continually feast, but what’s clear either way is that Jordan Peele and a phenomenal cast of guest stars (which oddly enough features quite a few comedians) show up each week to tell a story in a way that demonstrates clear conviction.  The reboot hasn’t struck me as profoundly as certain episodes of its original source material have in the past (seriously, “Time Enough at Last” is so good), nor has it been as overall disturbing and thought-provoking to me as Black Mirror in its best moments, but it’s certainly not as depressing overall as the latter, which is good, and either way it’s well-deserving of its second-season order.  As anthology series go, you can do far worse, even while being bludgeoned by the show’s thinly veiled ulterior motives.

“Six Degrees of Freedom”: Not to be confused with Six Degrees of Separation.

The Twilight Zone is streaming exclusively on CBS All Access, which is CBS’s streaming service.  I got it just before the Super Bowl, and it’s worth the $6 a month, if only to watch The Twilight Zone in all of its incarnations, along with Survivor (Jeff Probst is aging like a fine wine, but that’s probably a topic for another post).

Us – Review

This past weekend, I managed to make it out to see Jordan Peele’s latest buzzy thought-provoking horror film, Us.  With maybe the toughest act to follow in Get Out – arguably one of the more influential and unique films in recent years – Peele and his Monkeypaw Productions company have come through in spades, delivering a sophomore effort that bucks the standard slump trend, and if anything pushes the limits of what he can do within the horror genre to previously unknowable heights.  Given the film’s sterling box office performance on its opening weekend (reportedly $70 million, the best opening for an original film since James Cameron’s 2009 gangbuster Avatar), you’re sure to hear it discussed this week and beyond, but you can read on for my spoiler-free takes if you’re interested in them.

If you wanna get crazy, we can get crazy!

It’s worth noting right off the top that Us is both written and directed in a way that’s nothing short of fantastic.  Jordan Peele is, simply put, a generational talent, and has cemented himself as such with another unique and well-crafted blend of suspense, humor, disaster, and even art film elements.  Us delivers a similar brand of subtext to Get Out that at times is both more heavy-handed and slightly harder to parse, but its similarly profound devotion to its social causes and its deeper moral could only be otherwise described as complete, ranging in expression from its plot devices to its (warning – spoilers in this link) repeated numerology right down to the symbolic use of Luniz’s “I Got 5 On It” (that classic hip-hop song that gets a spooky remix in the film’s trailer – yes, I do believe that its lyrics, which seemingly, as Us’s Zora claims, are only “about drugs,” have some less prosaic meaning in this context that points towards the idea of literally sharing souls).  Any societal messages that the film spends time trying to send are only amplified by the fact that Us is surprisingly funny, even when considering the fact that Peele (who no doubt is still known just as much for his comedic resume as for his newfound penchant for highbrow horror) is its creator – after all, satire and comedy are hardly new mechanics for effective delivery of such whispered missives.

This will probably be a pretty popular Halloween costume this year, and rightfully so.

With all that said, maybe Us’s greatest strength is its prescience in terms of when it’s OK to stop working so hard on subverting a genre (which it of course does left and right) and instead embrace some of that very genre’s classical timeworn elements – namely, the ones that work.  One of the more memorable scenes in the film – second only to the climactic one, which I’ll refrain from divulging many details about here – is the first scene that pits our protagonist family against its antagonistic doppelgangers, which is chock full of horror film tropes that are each more than likely one misstep away from not playing as well as they did.  When they’re combined, though, and when the confluence of a shadowy many-windowed cabin in a remote stretch of woods and a notably peculiar band of besiegers is executed so flawlessly, they play well indeed.  Peele’s love of the genre shows itself onscreen more clearly in these moments than elsewhere, and his reported list of homework assignments for his cast is indicative of his commitment to the suspense-drenched language he wanted the film to speak.  This language is also evocatively spoken by Us‘s abundance of traditional but undeniably creepy settings: a carnival, complete with a funhouse brimming with mirrors.  The aforementioned cabin in the woods.  A dark road.  Others that I won’t spoil.

Seriously – that whole wall behind them is basically windows – not really what you want in a slasher survival situation.

In general, the entire cast of Us, from its younger newcomers up to its seasoned veterans, is phenomenal, with its centerpiece, Lupita Nyong’o, essentially carrying the film on her shoulders for significant stretches.  Joining her in a less weighty but at times equally pivotal role is Winston Duke, playing perhaps the most dad dad of all time (sidenote: based on the brand of humor Duke’s character more often employs, it’s clear that Jordan Peele is suited for fatherhood), with Elisabeth Moss and Tim Heidecker also signing on to provide a seeming foil of alcoholic extravagance to the central family’s more reserved method of vacationing.  The mayhem that the cast of characters is made to endure in Us is faithfully rendered by its players, who deftly shift between the pockmarks of humor that the action occasionally demands and the sense of dread imposed by the film’s premise.  While Peele’s creative influence is second to none when it comes to Us‘s triumph, the importance of the cast also can’t be understated.

Haunting.

Jordan Peele and all others responsible for Us’s creation are currently basking in the warm light of success, and it’s light that’s well-deserved.  As a fan of film, and in particular as a filmgoer who respects the challenges of putting an original idea onscreen (a set of challenges being eschewed more and more frequently by Hollywood’s proverbial board of directors in favor of existing IP), I can only hope that other filmmakers ranging in experience from fledgling to behemoth will learn something from the long list of accomplishments and accolades that Us will no doubt lay before itself in the coming year and awards season.  If only to witness a masterclass in building and releasing dramatic tension, Us should be viewed promptly by anyone who can stomach some gore and thematic anxiety.  If you’ve already seen Us, and are instead merely looking for more of the same brand of chills, Peele’s Twilight Zone reboot is right around the corner.

Us – giving a whole new creepy meaning to classic romantic “palm against palm” gesture.

Author’s/Grumpy Old Man’s Note: While I currently lack the imaginary column inches (read: the time) to talk about this to the extent that I’d like, Us was also a somewhat illuminating experience in terms of the shortcomings of theatergoing, and in particular attending a film on its premiere weekend where a large crowd is present.  In the wake of that experience, which had its share of frustrating moments, there’s likely more to be said about what I at times have perceived as an assault on the sanctity of the movie theater ambience, specifically when it comes to the horror genre.  To be clear, it’s hard for me to draw a clear-cut line in the sand here, as audience interaction can be half the fun at times, and some of my best theater experiences (this one as well) have included exultant cheers in the inspiring moments, and laugh tracks during the comedic ones.  Parts of the movie theater endeavor no doubt yearn, or even demand, to be made communal, but other parts – the parts where full-volume conversations are happening in the theater amidst a scene with soft-spoken dialogue, for example – certainly aren’t.  It’s difficulties like these that leave me wondering if I had been better off watching Us – a film that in itself really doesn’t beg a big-screen viewing – in the potentially eerie darkness of my own home, and it’s the future likelihood of such events that draws pause when I consider my plans for the Endgame.