Football. In a small, rural high school smack dab in the middle of Ohio, football may have very well been the first word I heard when I entered high school. What stood out to me about this sport was not its fast-paced action, and definitely not its entertainment value, but its incredible ability to take over the lives of everyone around me — from obsessive players to crazed, small-town fans. Moving to college, this obsession seems to have followed me, as every weekend I watch thousands of attendees make their way to Michigan Stadium. I’m haunted by the one sport I can’t understand.
When I saw the latest horror film in theaters was not just a sports horror, but a football horror, I was neither phased nor interested. What did intrigue me, however, was the immensely divisive discourse it was causing online. It seemed that all these reactions came as a result of the big name attached to this film: Jordan Peele.
Ever since 2017’s immensely successful “Get Out,” Peele has brought the psychological horror film genre to a new level of dark and twisted. In past projects like “Get Out” and “Us,” his work has gone beyond the classic psychological trope of madness, delving into societal issues such as systemic racism and class ideologies. These works drew praise from fans and critics, and led to Peele becoming the first Black person to win the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay for “Get Out.” However, Peele’s success streak seemed to end with his last film “Nope,” which was seen by critics as too ambitious, with little connection between plot points — from horse ranch activities to UFO sightings. So, when Peele’s name appeared in the title card next to the psychological football horror “Him,” not as a director but as a producer, it was unclear what this new project would look like. But given my disinterest in football, as well as Peele’s lack of creative direction on the film, my expectations were low. That was, until “Him” proved me wrong.
Cameron “Cam” Cade (Tyriq Withers, “I Know What You Did Last Summer”) is a quarterback tackling a quick rise to fame and the opportunity to join the professional football league, the USFF. But there’s a catch: To earn his spot in this league and on his dream team, The Saviors, he must make it through a week of training with his predecessor, quarterback Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans, “Scary Movie”). As the week begins, the plot becomes more absurd and Cam’s problems worsen. At Isaiah’s house, Cam is locked in a sauna, injected with unknown medicine and haunted by a rolling football (of course). Isaiah’s wife, Elsie (Julia Fox, “Uncut Gems”), seems like a beacon of normality at first, but soon proves to be just as corrupt as the rest. All the while, Cam and Isaiah’s relationship grows increasingly tense, as Isaiah teaches Cam what he will have to give up to become the greatest.
The concept of being the Greatest of All Time, or the “GOAT,” is a prevalent motif throughout this film, alongside extremely similar descriptions of success such as becoming “Him” (or, in other words, becoming the best). Both “GOAT” and “Him” are terms whose origins are tied to Black athleticism. The former originated with Muhammad Ali, and has since been used to describe athletes like Michael Jordan, LeBron James and Simone Biles. “Him,” often used in the phrase “I’m him,” was popularized by Odell Beckham Jr. in 2019. Given that professional American football is a majority Black sport filled with some of the highest-achieving athletes in the world, it’s no surprise that “GOAT” and “Him” soon found their place on the field. But for everything the words celebrate, it also casts a veil over the debilitating pressure haunting Black athleticism. Players work toward unattainable standards of perfection, conditioned to believe that all their work is meaningless if they cannot be The Greatest of All Time.
Throughout Isaiah and Cam’s training, these terms consistently arise. Cam’s greatest motivation is his family — particularly his deceased father, who introduced him to the sport at a young age — as well as the idea of being the greatest. Isaiah sees Cam’s love for his family as a weakness, emphasizing that if Cam truly wants to be the GOAT, he will need to stop caring about everyone and everything. These all-or-nothing conversations between the two raise the stakes and eventually reveal more and more of the league’s cult-like influence. Wayans’ performance in these scenes is nothing short of extraordinary, with a demeanor so tense that one missed pass could send him spiraling. After decades as a player, Isaiah has been conditioned to view football through a toxic, all-consuming lens. He has become so wrapped up in the pressure of being “Him,” that the sport and the league have completely taken over his life. As Cam follows in Isaiah’s footsteps, he seems doomed to repeat this destiny.
The building unease peaks when Cam is dropped off at one of the league’s parties, disguised as a sketchy outlet mall. Between Elsie vaguely mentioning the executive’s “rituals” to Isaiah’s medic whispering “run” in Cam’s ear, it’s clear that the night is about to go downhill. However, Cam, enticed by this extravagant atmosphere reeking of money and success, loses himself in the party. He is introduced to all the attendees and, in a particularly unsettling moment, we see a group of Isaiah’s executives from The Saviors examine their newest player. Through slow pans around this table, flashing lights and zooms of these old men, the shots become increasingly disorienting as Cam loses his own alertness. Layering this trippy camerawork over the league’s twisted nature perfectly enhances the narrative of an organization using fun and fortune to cover up their true motives. In this primarily white environment, it is clearer than ever how the league is profiting from the objectification of Black bodies, recruiting them as pawns in a game much bigger than football. It is moments like this that bring such powerful direct parallels to the story and shine a new light on football’s glamorized legacy.
While moments like these highlight Peele’s influence, “Him” is ultimately a unique Justin Tipping (“Kicks”) film. Instead of relying on a linear narrative, the film opts for confusing moments that make you question whether certain scenes are real or just a trick of Cam’s mind. On a larger scale, the film raises similar questions about the real world, leading audiences to wonder how much of the USFF is based on the National Football League. We see Peele’s impact here, as the film seeks to portray issues of systemic racism in a new light, particularly through the creative canvas of horror. Cameron Cade faces generational pressure from his family, sacrificial pressure from his mentor and, ultimately, the greatest pressure of all from the league: to relinquish his entire identity in trade for his sport. His story shines a light on the less glamorous side of professional sports, made up of environments infected by racial stereotypes and toxic masculinity. It is what makes “Him” not just another glorified sports success film, but rather a cultural critique of one of the largest athletic networks in the world.
Daily Arts Writer Abigail Weinberg can be reached at weinab@umich.edu.
