Critic Reviews

A trippy mix of horror, thriller and sports movie, Him is a very wild ride. A launching pad for its director and lead, and a shining moment for Wayans.

Lots of it doesn’t make sense, but a fever-dream doesn’t have to. There’s a disparity in the talent-level of the two leads that weakens the (ultimately-predictable) “surprise.” But what plays out is a fair allegory for a sport where men trade their well-being (bones, brain, etc.) for glory. Tipping even (over)uses an x-ray effect during scenes of violence, as if to underscore the injuries beneath.

Tipping embraces the self-indulgent label of “elevated horror,” crafting a tense, trippy, ultra-stylized movie that’s so surreal at times, it might feel like you’re watching an extension of Matthew Barney’s “Cremaster Cycle.”

It’s a mad, ambitious allegory that dives into the Deal with the Devil one makes for a career in the game.

This movie looks so good, it’s tempting to overlook things like character, story and theme. As a purely sensorial experience of sound and image, it’s sensational. As a searing examination of the body horrors of football, fandom and fame, it’s weak.

Poor conclusion aside, Him clearly indicates that Justin Tipping is a filmmaker to watch, especially if he wants to stick around in the horror genre. Best of all, though, it serves as a wonderful showcase for Marlon Wayans, who has never really been as good as he is here, turning in a performance that's both incredibly fun and undeniably unsettling. I just wish the rest of the movie could match his energy.

It doesn’t all work: the religious iconography is too obvious, and the more lurid horror elements – like the obsessive fans who literally haunt Cam during his training – can be so heavy-handed they’re more silly than scary. What never falters, though, is Tipping’s avid commitment to his concept.

It’s a bold play worth seeing, if only to watch Marlon Wayans get the ball and run.

Him is a decent time at the movies and possesses an impressive sense of execution. It's just that the vision its putting forth feels like one we've seen a lot of in recent years, and some pretty pictures and scene stealing moments from the performers can't overcome the sense we've been here before.

As the final moments of Him unfold, there’s an attempt to drastically course-correct. . . But it’s a desperate Hail Mary after a poorly played game, without a hope of bailing out the team behind it.