*Spoilers.*
In
my review of Nope, I gushed as much as I was able, which is tough when
you can barely discuss what the film is about without spoiling important stuff.
So we’re wading into full spoiler territory today, mostly looking at theme but
it may veer into a few different topics.
One
of the things I loved about watching Nope was seeing all these little
throwaway moments and scenes that felt baffling or out-of-place at first, only
to have them come together in critical ways in the second half of the film. It
doesn’t get peeled back like an onion—it opens like a flower, the dense bud
blooming into a wonderful array of overlapping petals that make up a superb
whole.
The
largest theme of the film, one that’s explored in multiple ways, is the connection
between fame and exploitation. The Haywoods run the only Black family-owned
animal wrangling business in Hollywood, and they claim to be descended from the
jockey riding the horse in the very first motion picture. As Em points out,
history lauds the man who invented and operated the camera but has completely
forgotten about the man who was the world’s first movie star, stunt man, and
animal wrangler rolled into one.
That
idea, of opportunities for fame falling through the cracks, is further
exemplified in the character of Jupe. His Wild West theme park, we learn, is
inspired by his role in Kid Sheriff, his big break as a child star. “You
were the Asian kid from Kid Sheriff?” Em asks with delight as she looks
at the memorabilia in his office, later asking “whatever happened to” the
talented young Black kid who costarred in the movie. We don’t know, and Jupe
clearly isn’t the movie star he’d hoped to be. His acting career, it’s implied,
fell off after the horrific, hushed-up tragedy that occurred on the set his
sitcom Gordy’s Home, an incident in which the trained chimp began brutally
attacking the actors during filming.
Because
Nope looks at the exploitation of animals as well as people. The way
everyone crowds around Lucky the horse and gets in his space on the film set,
spooking him, as O.J. fruitlessly tries to get them to back off. The way Gordy
the chimp was placed in an environment he was never meant to be in,
withstanding various noises and stressors until he felt pressed to attack—in
the end, he was shot and killed, and he definitely hurt people, but humans were
the ones who put him in that situation to begin with. And O.J. and Em come up
with the idea to save the farm by filming the UFO they glimpse in the sky over
their property, dreaming of the big payday of capturing the perfect “Oprah shot.”
When they learn they’re dealing with an alien animal instead of a spaceship,
they use tactics out of O.J.’s horse training playbook to essentially get the
creature to do “tricks” for the camera.
The
most brutal, interesting moments of this idea of fame and exploitation come in
the intersections between humans and animals. Whether it’s Jupe chasing stardom—first
as a child and later trying to recapture it as an adult—O.J. and Em chasing
dollar signs, or Holst chasing the perfect shot, all the human characters
actively put themselves in dangerous situations with unpredictable animals in
the hopes of getting what they want. They use these animals as they in turn
allow themselves to be used by their desires, getting chewed up and spit out
for the sake of “entertainment” (and in more than one case, that’s actually
literal.)
The
flashback of the Gordy’s Home tragedy is the scariest, most disturbing
scene of the film. Jupe was clearly traumatized by witnessing that as a child, but
he displays his trauma for clout, taking O.J. and Em into his hidden room of Gordy’s
Home memorabilia and reminiscing about the SNL sketch inspired by
the speculation into what really happened on the set that day. What’s more, he
evidently didn’t take away the obvious lesson of “don’t work with a volatile creature
who can destroy you,” because when he discovers the UFO, he and his family
start secretly working on a routine to incorporate into the live show at their
theme park. Even knowing that the thing sucked up one of his horses, he feeds
it more, thinking he’s “training” it until he believes it’s predictable enough
to build a show around it. Let’s just say, he’s very, very wrong about that.
O.J.’s
expertise and affinity with animals gives him and Em the best chance to
actually get the coveted money shot of the creature. With Angel and Holst
helping them out on the camera side, they devise a plan that’s based on O.J.’s
general knowledge of animals and his specific observations about the creature:
drawing it out with movement, monitoring where it’s going to appear based on
what gets affected by its EMP-like defenses, and staying aware of its aversion
to eye contact to keep (relatively) safe. As O.J. points out, Jupe’s mistake
was thinking he could “tame a predator” when, really, you can’t do more than
“come to an agreement with it.”
But
while O.J.’s knowhow protects the group, it can’t fully shield them.
Unsurprisingly, much of the pull toward danger comes from that earlier itch for
fame. Holst is hidden away, filming from a safer distance as O.J. takes
calculated risks to get the creature to perform for the camera, but when he
realizes “the light is going to be perfect soon,” the pull is too great. He
can’t resist, and he points his camera straight at the mouth of the beast, not
caring that it’s going to swallow him up. And while O.J.’s methods are more
respectful to the creature than we’ve seen most characters behave toward any
animals in the film, they’re ultimately still using the creature in the hopes
of a big Hollywood payout, getting it to do tricks for their profit.
Everyone
is complicit, everyone takes advantage of other living things, and everyone
offers themselves up to the abattoir at the gates of Hollywood. What a film—I
love it!