A hallmark of director Jordan Peele’s work is sharp social commentary that exposes uncomfortably layered aspects of society and humanity through a masterful blend of tension, horror, and humor. But, as much as the marketing for the Peele-produced HIM (2025) tries to fool you into believing it, the revered filmmaker did not direct this uneven exploration of obsession and football.

From director Justin Tipping, HIM explores the lengths one might go to become great. After an attack by a deranged fan leaves rising football megastar Cameron “Cam” Cade (Tyriq Withers) with a brain injury that puts his life and the trajectory of his career on the line, Cam receives an offer that can change everything. His lifelong hero and one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time, Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), invites Cam to spend a week at his private compound to train and demonstrate if he has what it takes to become a quarterback for the team of his dreams.

The setup for HIM dances a fine line between compelling and concerning. While the intersection of race with societal pressures and expectations is a theme ripe for exploration, the screenplay, co-written by Tipping, Zack Akers, and Skip Bronkie, suffers from a lack of focus and a succinct vision. The film attempts to cram so many themes into the merciful 90-minute runtime that no single idea is explored as thoroughly as it could have been if Tipping had chosen to focus on one. 

It doesn’t help that throughout the first half, it almost feels like the horror aspects are a mandate rather than an organic piece of the story. The horror in HIM feels distractingly odd. Whether it’s the random appearance of the individual who attacks Cam in a moment that feels like a dream sequence, or a bizarre moment when another crazy fan breathes heavily in the dark near the star player, before creepily gesturing for an autograph. These interactions between Cam and his fans pose an opportunity for another thematic exploration relating to toxic fanbases, but the film leaves it, along with any other interesting ideas, on the table to rot.

The shining moments of tension in HIM entirely depend on the relationship between Cam and Isaiah, which is easily the best aspect of the movie due to a delightfully unhinged performance from Wayans. Although Isaiah is helping prepare Cam for the moment when he’ll take his place as the shining star of football, Isaiah makes it clear that he may not be able to let go so easily. There’s something inherently interesting about a mentor/mentee relationship between people who still view each other as competitors, even if they’re technically on the same team. The rigorous trials Isaiah puts Cam through, sometimes putting other people’s lives on the line for extra motivational pressure, are juxtaposed by quieter philosophical moments in which the two characters discuss what they would risk or trade away for success. These conversations are so riveting because they are some of the only moments when we actually get to know these characters; they don’t come often enough.

Withers carries his own throughout the movie, but has room for improvement. In a standout scene in which Isaiah forces another football player to get brutally beaten by a passing machine every time Cam misses a pass or hesitates in the drill, Cam voices his concerns for the player’s safety. Cam is supposedly worried and fearful for the player, but Withers voices the concerns as if it’s all some kind of prank rather than a very real threat of someone getting killed on his behalf. 

Withers excels most in the role’s physical performance. As the intense training regimen breaks Cam, Withers mirrors that intensity and breaks the way he carries the character physically. The pain and anxiety Cam is feeling are written all over his face, making it difficult not to empathize with the character as he deals with the pressure of both Isaiah and a father who’s no longer around.

Stylistically, there are several moments in which the editing and creative decisions enhance the action onscreen and others where they extremely disappoint. When the camera occasionally switches to an X-ray view of the characters, like in a moment when Cam rams his head into another player’s so hard that it kills them, it makes the scene so much more visceral and unsettling. It’s almost like something pulled out of a Mortal Kombat (1992-) game. Other successfully uncomfortable instances include quick glimpses of body horror that briefly flash on screen whenever Cam is injected with a mysterious substance labeled “¯\_(ツ)_/¯”. 

It’s in the rare moments we get to actually see any football being played, though, that Tipping makes some preposterous visual choices. The most glaringly offensive decision comes when Cam is tasked with running through and dodging the incoming attacks of other players as if he were racing to the end zone for a touchdown. We never actually see the moves Cam makes to accomplish this goal. Instead of a wide shot of the action, the camera provides an over-the-shoulder shot of Cam’s neck as he turns every time for a dodge. It’s made even worse with the excessive cuts during this sequence. It almost feels like the movie is afraid to show football being played. Everything feels like an inauthentic imitation of the sport, especially since the film is seemingly unable to reference the NFL or any real football teams, always referring to the organization as “the league.”

HIM goes completely off the rails as soon as it reaches its third act. At this point, everything feels like it’s rushed to the concluding few scenes, featuring revelations that feel like they’ve been dropped out of nowhere. Without even acknowledging how ridiculously nonsensical these reveals are, they feel like they belong in a different film. Everything regarding an Illuminati-like football cult featuring an out-of-place and underutilized Julia Fox and Tim Heidecker unravels in the least satisfying way possible.

There are many promising prospects in the first two acts of HIM that land in a totally different stadium than intended. If the film had focused on the relationship between Cam and Isaiah as the main conflict, rather than incorporating the cult aspects that feel forced to make the film a horror movie, the story could’ve ended up much more compelling. As of now, Whiplash (2014) is still the best movie produced by a prominent individual in the horror genre (Jason Blum) about the dangers of obsessing over the need to be viewed as the GOAT.

The one aspect of HIM that never falters is the maniacal turn Wayans puts in as an absurdly enthralling antagonist. When Isaiah first meets Cam, he prepares him for the road ahead by telling him that, as a Black man, he had to be great just to be viewed as good. This exploration should have been the film’s north star. Instead, the theme gets lost in the jumbled mess that the feature becomes as it fumbles to its conclusion.

Review Courtesy of Evan Miller

Feature Image Courtesy of The Hollywood Reporter