Get Out (2017): The Horrors of Internalized Racism
How Jordan Peele’s directorial debut uses the genre to comment on real-world horrors.
(Warning: Heavy spoilers for the film below.)
Released in 2017, Jordan Peele’s directorial debut Get Out shook the world with its unique premise and powerful social commentary. Revisiting it now, I’m even more impressed by how the film manages to shine a light on deep-rooted prejudices. And the way it does so is by placing audiences in the perspective of someone they wouldn’t normally see as the lead in a horror film — an African-American man — all the while accentuating the real-world struggles that come with being a black person in a predominantly white country.
The film takes a unique approach by showcasing the side of racism that’s usually ignored — the “positive” stereotypes. The demeaning comments that are meant to be taken as a compliment. The type of remarks that come from “good intentions,” but are still generalizing an entire race all the same.
It’s not often you see a film focused on the internalized prejudice that exists in everyday interactions, especially a horror film. The genre is known for popularizing the trope of “the black guy always dies first,” a criticism that has plagued the genre as a whole, and rightfully so.
For the longest time, people of color have been relegated to the role of side characters, which would eventually lead to the unfortunate result that comes from most narratives in the genre — everybody dies except the main character. And seeing as how the Hollywood system generally favors a white protagonist, it’s not surprising that the horror genre would lean into this mentality as well. This problem has been pervasive for years, which is why a film like Get Out hit so close to home with its subversion of the genre.
The story of Get Out follows Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya), an African-American man who goes to meet the family of his white girlfriend, Rose Armitage (Allison Williams), on their lavish estate in New York. Although the parents seem like well-meaning white liberals — the father reminds us that he voted for Obama, and would’ve done it again if he could — their interactions with Chris are filled with painfully awkward moments as they try to connect with him through the use of slang and other assumptions based on his race.
The rest of the film sees Chris experience all sorts of strange things during his stay at the Armitage household. The housekeeper is a black woman named Georgina, who acts in a peculiar manner, to say the least. While the groundskeeper is a black man named Walter who spends his time running laps around the house in the middle of the night.
It’s clear that something is off in the Armitage residence and Chris is keenly aware of this. His suspicions are magnified once he attends an uncomfortable party that sees him interacting with guests that can’t help but make inappropriate comments about his race. He also experiences a pretty bizarre encounter with Andre (Lakeith Stanfield), a black man who went missing while walking alone through the suburbs one night.
Although Chris is constantly on edge, he’s repeatedly calmed down by his girlfriend, who seems to have an answer for every strange occurrence that goes on in the house. But as the story unfolds, it’s revealed that Rose has been responsible for luring black people to the Armitage residence, so that her family can transplant their brains into the bodies of these poor souls. Once the procedure is complete, the original hosts of the bodies would remain trapped in the “Sunken Place,” where they’ll live as prisoners in their own minds.
The way the film plays with audience expectations is pretty ingenious. It presents the character of Rose as an ally, and just like Chris, we trust her after witnessing her speak out against racial injustices. One scene, in particular, involves the couple having an intense encounter with a police officer. In the back of our minds, we know full well that things can go south at any moment, and Chris’s facial expressions tell the same story.
This is a simple yet profoundly effective way that endears us to her character while also commenting on the very real atrocities that are committed by law enforcement officers towards people of color. And the fact that her performance can be interpreted in different ways upon further rewatches just adds an extra layer of dimension to her character and the viewing experience as a whole.
One of the things I’ve grown to appreciate about the horror genre is how it’s able to take real-world issues and manifest them into terrifying obstacles for the characters onscreen. And using the very real danger of racism, in all of its forms, brings a unique perspective to the genre that allows the audience to relate to Chris’s struggles that much more.
We’re with Chris every step of the way. We want him to survive this terrifying ordeal and live another day. So it’s all the more suspenseful once we see him dealing with this horrifying scenario that could result in him literally losing his sense of self. The film is just operating on so many levels. Even if the Armitage family weren’t actually taking over black people’s bodies, the horror of the film’s internalized racism still rings true when we see it manifest itself in casual conversations.
Another aspect that stands out in the film is the appreciation for black art, but not for the people themselves. It’s no coincidence that Chris is a photographer. His photographs are showcased during a sequence at the beginning of the film. And at the party, he meets a blind art dealer who expresses just how impressive Chris’s work actually is.
“I want your eye, man. I want those things you see through,” he says to Chris as he reveals his interest in taking over the young man’s body — a literal example of admiring the talent of black artists while dehumanizing them at the same time. When Chris asks him why black people are the only ones that are chosen as vessels, he replies with, “who knows?” and “don’t lump me in with that,” as he washes his hands clean from any sort of accountability, a privilege he’s able to enjoy while ignoring the deep-rooted prejudices that exist within him.
Along with bringing a refreshing perspective to the horror genre, the idea of the “sunken place” is a major contribution to the cultural dialogue, with people using it in everyday conversation to describe the state of marginalized people as a result of systemic racism.
The way this concept is brought to life results in a jarring image that sees the main character lose his ability to control his body as he descends into his own mind, helpless inside his own skin. Just as all the victims in the film sink into themselves, their empty vessels are taken over by the older generation so they can extend their lifespan — in short, keeping racism alive through inhumane practices and literal systems of oppression.
Through all the trials and tribulations that Chris has gone through in the film, he’s eventually presented with one final obstacle: the blinding lights of what appears to be a police vehicle. Now, the audience knows exactly what could happen just by looking at the situation — Chris, a black man, was just strangling his white girlfriend. We’re already imagining the worst-case scenario before anything even happens, but the film takes this opportunity to go in a different direction while also playing into our biggest fear for the character at the same time.
For a genre that’s relegated people of color to suffer a horrible fate for so long, Get Out is the wake-up call that horror films have desperately needed. The director’s following film, Us (2019), also shines a light on the social injustices of the world through the lens of the genre. This time, by showcasing the economic gap that exists between social classes.
Through the use of parable as a way to discuss relevant social issues, Jordan Peele is an invaluable filmmaker who’s creating original narratives that are needed now more than ever. By taking advantage of the storytelling possibilities that the horror genre provides, he’s able to give viewers insight into experiences that are still being underrepresented in the film industry — all the while urging audiences to look inward at their own racial biases, which is where the real horror lies.
