Postmodern cinema tends to refuse the single narrative, often to choosing to tell many stories about different characters than one tale about one protagonist. A trend within this trend is telling different stories about one character with different identities. Such is the case with Teddie/Andrew in Shutter Island (2010) and Betty/Diane in Mulholland Drive (2001). The best example I can think of is another David Lynch project, Twin Peaks: The Return, a television show in which actor Kyle MacLachlan plays four different roles to portray a character’s four different identities.
Jordan Peele’s Us (2019) continues this tradition, following a doppelganger plot reminiscent of Invasion of the Body-Snatchers (1956). The narrative explores the concept of evil shades of ourselves rising from the depths to take our places. These figures are beast-like reflections of us. Though they look human, their attempts to imitate human behavior are exaggerate and fall short. They are truly unnatural.
But nevertheless, they do manage to act similarly to their more civilized counterparts. This is where the actors’ performance becomes key. Not only do they need to act like animals, making growling and howling noises, but they need to show signs of mimicry, as in semblances of “normal” activity. Otherwise, their goal of experiencing life above the ground like their better-off counterparts is lost on the audience.
To accomplish this, the actors inject subtle nuances into their performance. Winston Duke as Abraham feels his counterpart Gabe’s curtains when he first enters the hose, amazed by this luxury. He continues to call upon this curiosity when he takes Gabe’s glasses, childishly amazed by them. Duke could have simply played Abraham as a lumbering beast but by playing the role with this wondrous awe for a better life, the audience can see early on what the Tethered want.
The Tyler family also has some key performances. Tim Heidecker as Josh’s doppelganger saunters around like a dad at a barbecue. When his family takes Adelaide into their home, he waves them off nonchalantly to pursue Gabe, as if to say he’s got this. Elizabeth Moss as Kitty’s doppelganger has her subtle acting details as well. When she is applying the lip gloss, it is done so delicately, after years of observation. Once she is done, she smiles ecstatically, proud she has accomplished her goal of mimicry.
And of course there is Lupita Nyong’o’s Red, whose movements are robotic but swift. This decision to move in exaggerated but deliberate fashion not only illustrates a jarring impersonation of “normal” life, but adds to the horror of the film’s chase scenes. Her movements are unnatural but fast, giving her performance an eerie feeling.
When Red explains the Tethered’s existence to Adelaide near the end of the movie, the viewer sees eerie performance upon eerie performance as the Tethered try desperately to mimic life above the ground on the boardwalk. If any scene perfectly sums up the significance and excellence of performance in this film, it’s this one.
Us is another postmodern film dealing with issues of identity, challenging its actors to play different versions of the same character. Discussing the root of this doppelganger plot is for another day (Red’s weighty line “We are Americans” hosts so many implications that I wouldn’t even know where to start). For now, understanding how this plot was achieved is significant. Alongside a powerful narrative, the actors are able to play foreign shades of “normal” people, acting like beasts. Yet, their howls and shrieks are not the scariest part of their performance. It’s how they attempt (and often fail) at acting human. Their facial expressions and body language are stilted exaggerations of “normal” behavior, creating a chilling effect and adding to the film’s horror. Is this supposed to illustrate mankind at heart are all animals? Or the harm of mimicking or multiplying American normalcy? Should we feel bad for the Tethered or are they unsympathetic enemies?
Like I said before: that’s a discussion for another day.
The CineMan Twist 