Nope Finds Refreshing Surprises in Classic Tropes in One Stellar Horror Entry

From Roswell to The Twilight Zone to so many 1950’s sci-fi classics, the image of the ‘flying saucer’ has burned itself onto the collective consciousness of Hollywood and the public consciousness alike. It’s a timeless modern image that promises “little green men” and The Truth being Out There. In Jordan Peele’s Nope, a UFO sighting provides an exploration of the predatory side of the entertainment industry, while becoming something else entirely in Peele’s hands. Nope is Peele at his most imaginative, a story of two characters who refuse to be pinned down from a director who refuses the same. It’s a big, surprising evolution of the classic Hollywood UFO story in properly cosmic dimensions. It’s great, and whatever you’re expecting you’ll likely be wrong.

Nope stars Daniel Kaluuya and Keke Palmer as OJ and Emerald Haywood, siblings working to keep the family’s Hollywood horse ranch alive after aerial debris tragically kills their father, Otis (Keith David). The pair come to suspect there’s something amiss in the skies overhead (something of a UFO variety) and seek to catch whatever it is on camera. They enlist the help of local Fry’s technician Angel Torres and DP Antlers Holst (Michael Wincott) to help capture the visage of the mysterious aerial phenomena, while neighboring former child star Ricky “Jupe” Park maintains nearby attraction ‘Jupiter’s Claim,’ directly in the fray of what’s happening.

One thing that Nope makes perfectly clear is that Peele is a filmmaker with diverse interests and influences, and one that refuses to be pigeonholed. Folks looking for a mere regurgitation of his filmography will be disappointed, and he’s disappointing them on purpose—it’s his biggest, boldest, greatest risk-taking endeavor yet, and by-and-large he sticks the landing in a film that continues to surprise as it evolves. It departs from his prior endeavors and respectfully does new things with old tropes, all the while subtly criticizing both the entertainment industry’s propensity to chew up and spit people out and the efforts of those trying to ‘appease’ the system. You can’t appease predators, it just won’t work.

The cast here all land their performances well, with Kaluuya’s OJ ably performed as a traumatized son trying to keep the ranch together, while he comes into his own in the course of the film. Keke Palmer’s Emerald is a joy to watch, with loads of on-screen charisma and some of the film’s best humor (anyone who has seen the trailers shouldn’t be surprised). The pair have a strong, growing chemistry that really drives the heart of the film forward.

Steven Yeun’s Ricky Park is an intriguing character with a lot of charm. His background as a former child star that pivoted a tragedy into a novel career—a real ‘work the system for profit’ sort of gent—provides an interesting point of contrast from our major protagonists. Finally, Brandon Perea’s Angel Torres is a lovely balance of humorous and serious, and Michael Wincott’s Anglers Holst is exactly the gruff, talented DP we all secretly need in every film—he’s hilarious, and the major cast members all play off each other well.

The final ‘what’ of what’s happening won’t be spoiled here, but it’s an eye-opener, impressively imaginative and much different from most of what you may have seen before. Even still, it’s a straightforward tale (I know these descriptors seem contradictory, it’ll make sense after viewing) with simple motives confronting a unique otherworldly challenge. What’s best about the finale is that it boasts a true sense of scale. We have a host of superhero tales and blockbuster wannabes, sure, but so many of them seen flat despite cutting edge technology or rest on busy finales that have loads of VFX but you never feel the conclusion’s weight. Not so, here. The ending has depth and scale to spare, and you truly feel like something larger than the standard human experience has been witnessed. It’s the feeling the cinematic art form was made for.

While the film as a whole is successful and the ending is a stunner, not every element of the film lands to an equal degree. The beginning has a rather slow pace, and the story doesn’t feel like it really has footing until the siblings start installing cameras. Even then, some of the early misdirects feel a little more like deflations of tension rather than escalating misdirects, but once it gets going the story clicks into gear for an overall satisfying ride.

The biggest narrative questions come from Ricky Park’s story. It fits in thematically (and Steven Yeun is a virtue in any story) but it feels a little at odds against the overall narrative. It’s hard to discuss without full spoilers, but even from the trailers we discover that Jupiter’s Claim is selling alien figures, an odd thing for a middle-of-nowhere Western destination, so when the UFO arrives at the Haywood’s ranch, did they not think to ask their neighbor, with whom they have had regular business, about it? Additionally, while the characters themselves are all ably played, a number of them feel more static than one would hope.

If Nope is a demonstration of what Peele will do with an even-blanker blank check and unconditional creative carte blanche, then it’s a rousing success story. It’s a narrative with a simple core, but one that magically finds a way to respectfully take the classic UFO tale and do something genuinely novel with it. It doesn’t come together as cleanly in pace and plot as it could, but it remains an inventive, grand scale riff on old tropes, backed by a talented cast. The cinematography is top tier, with thoughtful, memorable shot choices throughout and an inventive finale that this reviewer won’t forget. Perhaps most importantly, in an era with oh so many sequels, reboots, and remakes it’s something surprising and new. In short, should you see Nope? Yep.

Nope lands in theaters July 22, 2022.