mirror grievance

Us (2019) 
Directed by Jordan Peele 
Gore Capitalism Lecture Series #1

Sayak Valencia’s “Gore Capitalism” cites French sociologist Jean Baudridllard, referencing this insightful (and deliciously apt) comment on the concept of “mirror people:”

“Here begins the great revenge of otherness, of all the forms which, subtly or violently deprived of their singularity, henceforth pose an insoluble problem for the social order, and also for the political and biological orders… But a being will one day rebel, and then our whole system of representation and values is destined to perish in that revolt. This slavery of the same, the slavery of resemblance, will one day be smashed by the violent resurgence of otherness. We dreamed of passing through the looking glass but it is the mirror peoples themselves who will burst in upon our world. And this time will not be defeated.”

Jordan Peele’s Us is about this image of the mirrored self, the other, coming back to reassert itself in our stead. The dichotomy at play is practical and obvious (the narrative hub and dividing line between “us” and “them” takes place in a house of mirrors!), as an underground world of doppelgangers comes to the surface. It’s a film all about hierarchies and deliberate imbalances, along with a rather compelling reframing of hyperconsumption between racial lines. Consider how so much of the film’s interactions between white and black families is defined by a black man’s perceived material (and later in the film, physical) deficiencies. Gabe (Winston Duke) mentions that he finally bought a (used, comically dilapidated) boat, to which Josh (Tim Heidecker) admonishes him for not having every conceivable accessory to come along with it. Later in the film, when a hobbled Gabe confronts Josh’s doppelganger, it’s that very accessory that puts Gabe in more danger. The wimpy flare gun he aims at Josh fizzles out; an act of consumerism that lends itself to buyer’s remorse. Or as Valencia puts it, a consumer transaction that breeds “frustration not relief.”

But primarily, Us is about mobility and the limited means in which the disenfranchised have to move upward. Violence and deceit become ethical when the path is this dystopian. And so it is logical that the oppressed begin to question the coherence of the order imposed on them. Uniformed and armed with scissors intended to untether themselves for the system that keeps them alive enough, it’s the spiral of underconsumption and division that forces Red to confront Addy (both played by Lupita Nyong'o). Red’s unfair exile (and brief taste of the silver spoon) leaves only violent revolt as a means of reasserting her agency within the society that was usurped from her. The dyad between poverty and violence isn’t complicated by Peele, but he does offer a rather sharp indictment on “hero” culture, insofar that Addy, a product of the lower level that managed to “fit in” within civilized society, will forever be viewed as an other by her son; the only person to know the secret of her origins. Autonomy can only be achieved through violence for Addy, who now operates in a world of perpetual anxious caution, afraid to be found out by those who have been birthed into the First World.