By Brooke Ivey Johnson

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HIM, the new film from director Justin Tipping and producer Jordan Peele, is undoubtedly one of the most polarising releases of the year.

Critics have been quick to slam it – some calling it ‘easily the worst film of the year,’ while others have accused it of being a ‘high-budget student film’ eager to impress with its technique. With a 33% on Rotten Tomatoes at time of writing, its clear that its not the triumph the creators were hoping for.

But what many seem to miss is that HIM isn’t just a flimsy sports film with a horror twist; it’s a visceral, haunting experience that leaves a lingering, disorienting effect on the viewer, much like a concussion from the very sport it critiques.

The plot may not be as tightly constructed as a film like Get Out, but the stakes feel real, and the film thrives on creating an atmosphere that feels almost physical. Much like the sport it depicts, HIM is about sensation, feel, and oppressive power dynamics; rather than strict narrative coherence.

Set in an isolated training compound, it follows young football star Cameron Cade (Tyriq Withers) as he trains under the tutelage of legendary quarterback Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans) and has chilling encounters with White’s wife (Julia Fox).

Wayans, Withers, and Fox all deliver cerebral, believable performances, with each of their bodies on display in a way that asks compelling questions about the role of objectification and sexualisation in sports and fame.

The film follows Cameron Cade (Tyriq Withers) as he trains under the tutelage of legendary quarterback Isaiah White (Picture: Universal Pictures)

Marlon Wayans plays Isaiah White (Picture: Universal Pictures)

From the opening shot, the film’s visual language is arresting, featuring sweeping desert landscapes and nightmarish lighting that echoes films in Peele’s cinematic ‘universe.’

It works hard to immerse the audience in the fragmented, haunted psyche of its protagonist, a young man willing to sacrifice everything for greatness. The horror here is psychological, a slow-burn that creeps up on you like the disorienting pressure building on Cameron as he wonders if his head injury is impinging on his sense of reality.

Is it the dialogue-heavy, socratic horror film that has been popularised by studios like A24 in recent years? No. It’s more like an acid trip or fever dream that leaves you changed for reasons you can’t quite articulate.

Perhaps the most chilling moment in the film is when Isaiah has Cameron running drills with a group of free agents. The free agents, nameless and sinister, resemble a bizarre cult. The costumes are key here, managing in every scene to evoke something between the mundane and the macabre, disorienting viewers with only the smallest hints that things aren’t as familiar as they appear at first glance.

These men are training for a brutal, almost occult-like version of football that echoes the real-life mania surrounding the sport. When one of the free agents volunteers to be a target for a drill, the tension is unbearable. As Cameron misses a pass, a football is shot at high speed into the volunteer’s face, creating a sickening crunch each time.

Many of the psychological horror aspects in the film are very successful (Picture: Universal Pictures)

Wayans and Withers create a nuanced and disturbing relationship between their characters (Picture: Universal Pictures)

At its core, HIM critiques the idolisation of athletes, particularly in American football, where stars like Isaiah White are revered as gods while at the same time only being valued as commodities by the businessmen who oversee them.

Just outside the compound, a ragtag group of fans worship White with an almost religious fervor, echoing the toxic devotion often seen in real-world sports fandom. This surreal cultish vibe is unsettling, as it’s not so far removed from the disturbing reality of how athletes are treated as deities.

Football, in this world, becomes an arena of almost ritualistic brutality, with concussions and injuries as collateral damage. The film critiques how young, Black players, like Cameron, are lured into this system with the promise of a shortcut to fame and fortune. It’s a one-in-a-million chance to escape poverty, but at what cost?

The relationship between Cameron and Isaiah is disturbing, a master-apprentice dynamic that slowly morphs into something darker. Isaiah’s mentorship is a manipulation, and as the film progresses, the audience feels the same sense of unease and paranoia that Cameron does.

Light plays a major role in the atmosphere of the film (Picture: Universal Pictures)

At times, the imagery borders on pagan (Picture: Universal Pictures)

The horrors of the compound intensify – real, imagined, or both – and it’s never entirely clear what is happening to Cameron’s mind, thanks to the head injuries that continue to accumulate.

And yet, amidst all this madness, HIM is not pure critique. The film manages to show the allure of football fame, with Cameron starting as a naïve young man with a clear set of priorities: God, family, then football.

But as his training intensifies, so does the temptation to put everything – including morality – on the line to become a star. At its heart, HIM asks a painful question: when you’ve been trained to worship greatness, what happens to your own identity? What happens when you become the god?

The body horor is chilling throughout the film (Picture: Universal Films)

The power of symbols is interrogated sharply in HIM (Picture: Universal Pictures)

In a film full of brutal, body-crushing moments, the most chilling may be the way it addresses football’s deeply ingrained cycle of exploitation. HIM doesn’t just criticize the sport – it exposes how it thrives on inequality, using the desperate dreams of young men as fuel for its machinery. Cameron’s journey is, in many ways, an allegory for the way the system uses and discards people as if they’re products.

In the end, HIM isn’t just a sports movie or a horror film—it’s a grotesque examination of ambition, exploitation, and the price of greatness. It might not be the tightest film of the year, but it’s certainly one of the most daring and memorable. Its haunting visuals and psychological depth make it a bold addition to the genre, one that pushes the boundaries of what a sports movie can be.

HIM is flawed, yes. But it’s a film that demands to be felt, even if, like football itself, the experience is overwhelming, violent, and sometimes impossible to fully comprehend.

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