Justin Tipping refuses to dig deeper with a premise so uniquely its own

The big shining words produced by Jordan Peele — a tagline on practically every piece of marketing for Him — in hindsight, may have been the single most telling, self-inflicting evidence that would guarantee the film’s own demise. Peele’s involvement seemed like all they could bank on; maybe if the audience is jaded by his attachment they’d forgive the atrocity that is to come. Following his bidding-war failure over Zach Cregger’s box-office hit Weapons (which allegedly resulted in the firing of two of Peele’s longtime collaborators) comes his attempt at tasting victory with Justin Tipping’s Him, a football horror-drama that begs the question: can you ethically become the GOAT?

It becomes immediately clear that Justin Tipping is an active member of contemporary sports culture; “I’m Him… I’m Him!” is cheered by a young Cameron Cade (whose older self is played by Tyriq Withers) as his father tries to console him after witnessing the TV play the Louisville Kevin Ware-esque and potentially career-ending injury of Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), the starting quarterback of the San Antonio Saviors and idol of our protagonist. To have an injury inspired by such an event requires a decent amount of “ball knowledge” and it is obvious Tipping is a “ball knower”, and to open a film with such a scene gives the acquainted viewer an idea of what’s to come, however the novelty doesn’t last long: ball knowledge does not a good movie make. I’m surprised that Tipping wasn’t able to fit any engagement-bait quote-graphics into the film, considering it seems he’ll pull anything from the sports zeitgeist, but I digress. The film does have concepts worth exploring including major sports systems’ exploitation of young athletes (especially Black athletes), religious cult-like sports association, and Faustian dilemmas of sports greatness, however it never truly engages with its own subject matter, rendering it ineffective.

Cameron Cade is a college quarterback prodigy, with analysts from around the country revering him as the next potential GOAT. While the first 15 minutes or so play like an NBA 2K cutscene or a CW teen sports-drama (there were moments that really felt like I was watching All-American), a certain horror-surrealist element is introduced when Cade is bludgeoned to the head by a demented sports mascot right before his professional combine. Due to his injury, he sits out of the combine and goes from the nation’s #1 overall pick to undrafted, that is until he receives a call from an aging Isaiah White inviting him to a private week-long training camp to recruit him as his replacement. The rest of the film spends a little bit too much time with what looks like a rejected Nike commercial B-roll footage and not enough time on developing a cohesive story, with the ending being merely a sum of its parts.

Cade’s first run-in with something out of the ordinary is when he drives past a cult of Isaiah White worshippers outside of his training compound — the type of people that make Bronsexuals look like your average Joe. Whether Tipping is critiquing sports fandom or not is up to your own judgment, but it’s easy enough to make parallels to modern-day sports Twitter and Tiktok, where edits of aura-farming Shai Gilgeous-Alexander and LeBron James run rampant to the point of lunacy. Far-fetched? Maybe, but there is something to be said about modern sports fandom and the ever-changing relationship between players, fans, and social media. But nothing comes of this cult of Isaiah White worshippers — they’re used solely for shock value — any moment of tension with these characters is killed with the swiftness, and their existence in the film is close to negligible.

Style over substance could not be truer for Him — in which case the style consists of fitness edits and mild gore for gore’s sake — however that style comes with nothing on the side, and its 96-minute runtime could easily be compressed into a measly 4-minute music video. And the only moment where tension is exacted (a training partner of Cade’s is willingly subjected to physical torture when Cade makes mistakes), it squeamishly runs away leaving our protagonist with a rather timid message: a quarterback must take all the blame…boring! Tipping snoozily teases provocative concepts but never takes them to the end-zone, celebrating much too early with nothing to show for it.

Cade is repeatedly injected with a mysterious drug from a sports therapist, infused with White’s blood, and awoken in cold sweats that eventually culminate into one question: what the fuck is going on? As an allusion to the modern-day athlete and sports culture, players are more or less bred to become great at their respective sport, from an early age kids are put into relatively inaccessible programs that almost guarantee success. Are GOATs a result of good genetics, strong work ethic, or as the film suggests, selective breeding? In our modern day society, can one ethically become the GOAT? Cameron Cade doesn’t want to find out. The final act of the film ends in a stereotypical and lazy, overdone fashion; Cade kills all of the coaches, agents, and administrators involved in the scheme to manufacture him as the GOAT (surprise!). Is the film making fun of itself? I don’t know. Does it do a good job at it? No.

“Himzel Washington, Him Duncan, Himothee Chalamet!” are all praises taken from contemporary cultural sports lexicon thrown at our naive quarterback protagonist in pursuit of being the next GOAT — just some of the many terms derived from sports-speak used in a meager attempt at cultural relevancy. However, what Justin Tipping doesn’t know, is that the employment of such tactics without a substantial script, direction, or theme that doesn’t involve beating you over the head with it (figuratively and literally) results in the inauguration into a deathly category that I’ve seen too many contemporary satires and commentaries fall into: cringe. Success in sports is all about visualization, manifestation and affirmation play a large role in one’s ability to compete, and the same can be said for other trades as well; unfortunately in Justin Tipping’s case, no amount of “I’m Him’s” could give the film a case to live up to its name.