When I first saw Get Out, there was a lot of hype surrounding the film. I’m always sceptical of “hyped” films as they tend to be puffed up by their relationship to some kind of zeitgeist. But I was a big fan of Key & Peele and the trailer was brilliant, so I thought I’d give it a go. Within two minutes of having sat down in the Odeon, and the film starting, I realised I was watching a genius piece of cinema. There are so many things I loved about Get Out; the way that the film operates on three levels: sociological (the allegory of racism), spiritual (Chris’ journey to overcoming being paralysed by fear), and literal / physical (a lock-in horror movie). I loved the phenomenal acting. I loved the elements of hypnotism and concept of “The Sunken Place”. I loved the camerawork and colour palette. I loved the references to other horror classics, including Night of the Living Dead. I loved the sometimes unnerving interspersions of humour amidst the horror.
But the thing I loved most about it is the subject of today’s article, and is also why I think it’s more important than ever to revisit this piece of cinema. This blog is going to contain some spoilers, so if you still haven’t seen Get Out, please go and buy it and watch it now!
Get Out uses several clever cinematic techniques to put us in Chris’s (Daniel Kaluuya) shoes. Chris is a photographer; he is “an eye”. We frequently focus in on Chris’s eyes (in fact, the iconic poster-image for the movie is of Chris weeping with his eyes wide open). This shows that, to some degree, we’re seeing this world through Chris’s perspective. We’re looking through him.
Chris has to come to Rose’s (Allison Williams) family home to meet her parents. He’s nervous about it, and soon he finds his nerves are not unfounded; Rose’s parents and brother give off a weird vibe. Chris begins to experience racism from the family and the guests. When I watched Get Out in the cinema, there was nervous laughter when Dean Armitage (the father, played by Bradley Whitford) says, “I would have voted for Obama three times if I could”. It’s funny, because we know what he’s doing, he’s overcompensating. In the same vein, another guest at the Armitage’s party immediately starts talking about Tiger Woods as soon as Chris shows up. We don’t know whether we’re allowed or supposed to laugh at this, but after a while, of course, we can’t help it.
As Get Out progresses, it wears down our defences until we’re laughing openly at the insanity of Chris’s situation (as well as feeling an almost nausea-level tension building). Because it’s a horror film, we feel the threat to him more profoundly than in a thriller – we know horror movies can go super-dark. By the time we near the end, and Chris is being hypnotised in preparation for an operation that will destroy his brain and personality forever, we’re biting our nails with fear and anxiety. Get Out is about white people stealing and appropriating black bodies – for their own often twisted ends. Ironically, the film achieves this very feat, placing us inside of Chris’s head. Or perhaps it actually achieves the reverse? Chris gets into us. Whatever the case, it’s rare that I feel such intense empathy for a character.
And here’s where that empathy achieves its transcendental peak.
At the end of Get Out, Chris is finally giving his fake girlfriend Rose the strangling she deserves, when suddenly, we see a bloom of blue and red lights. It is at this moment that my heart plummeted out of my chest into my stomach. I didn’t have to make any logical leaps. I didn’t have to think. I knew instantly what Chris knew: Those cops are going to arrest me.
In that split second, I felt something of what it might be like to be Chris. I will never know what it’s like to be black, of course. I would never claim that. But, Jordan Peele manages to get his audience to a point where they can see a tiny glimpse. The cops showing up at the end wasn’t delivery and salvation – like it is in so many movies. It was the final lowest point. The cinema audience audibly groaned with sympathy and despair as the lights drew nearer and Chris stood up, holding his hands over his head.
When I left the cinema, I remember using the word “Shakespearean” to describe Get Out, and among other stylistic elements (people who are not themselves, for a start) I think that’s what I meant. Whatever you think of The Bard, I believe he had an uncanny knack for allowing his audiences glimpses of what it might feel like to be someone else: whether it’s Beatrice or Caliban or Macbeth. Shakespeare’s gift was empathy.
Jordan Peele follows in those footsteps. He gives us empathy into Chris’s plight. And that makes the ending so powerful.
Of course, as it happens, it isn’t the cops arriving, but actually Chris’s friend Rod. There’s a message in that too, which is perhaps best saved for another article.
In our current climate, where it’s clearer than ever that the police are not the solution, but the problem, I thought it would be good to meditate again on why Get Out struck such a chord.