(My FBFOAT is being trapped in an elevator alone for a long time with only my thoughts for company.) I have held tightly to this fear since February 2009, when Oprah interviewed Charla Nash, a Connecticut woman who innocently went to her friend’s house to help her wrangle her temperamental chimpanzee and left without her face. I lost all ability to parse Nope’s central metaphor when I realized that Jordan Peele had structured a key plot point around my second biggest fear of all time (SBFOAT): having my face spontaneously torn off by a chimp. Alison Willmoreįorget the Alien, a Chimp Is Attacking That Girl It’s exactly the kind of thinking you’d expect from someone who’d been churned up and spit out by Hollywood and who nevertheless only wants back in like if you try hard enough, you can really turn Hollywood into something benevolent through sheer force of will instead of a gaping maw poised to devour you whole.
ANIMAL PLANET HORSE SET TV
But Jupe - poor Jupe, the survivor of a horrifying childhood incident turned Saturday Night Live punch line - tries to harness the UFO as part of his failing western theme park, willfully spinning out a narrative in which the flying object is the vehicle of benign visitors from space and naming them “the viewers,” as though they’re watching humanity like we’re a TV show. OJ and Emerald are pragmatic, looking to lure the alien out in order to get footage of it before the media and the rest of the world cottons on to what’s happening out in Agua Dulce. OJ (Daniel Kaluuya), Emerald (Keke Palmer), and Jupe (Steven Yeun) all encounter proof of extraterrestrial life, and the first instinct for each of them is how they could use it to vault themselves into (or back into) fame and fortune.
Sometimes a saucer-shaped carnivorous alien is just a saucer-shaped carnivorous alien! But in the lives of the three most prominent characters, the alien definitely functions as a stand-in for the industry they’re all operating on the outskirts of. Okay, I’m not convinced the alien is meant to be a direct allegory for anything in Nope. Ecoconscious!) So, really, Peele’s message is the same: Humanity is self-destructing, and nothing’s more entertaining. (Note how Miz Jacket takes an immediate stance against light and noise pollution and electricity in general. Second, she knew what she was doing it’s just that plastic is, unfortunately, the superior bitch. First, put some respect on Jean Jacket’s name.
Trusted film critic Logan Paul found it perplexing that such an advanced extraterrestrial creature apparently couldn’t “tell the difference between a plastic inflatable and a viable meal” when it gobbled up its feast of flags and tube dancers then graduated to a whole-ass balloon boy. Bullying works.) You knew landfills were a threat to earthlings now you also know that, per Jordan Peele’s tea leaves, all that polyester is gonna fuck up life beyond this dying planet, too. (Congrats to Leonardo DiCaprio and Greta Thunberg. Yeah, sure, maybe Nope is one big cautionary tale about how this obsession with going viral is gonna be the death of us - that we’re too distracted by attention, that the real monster hunts from within, that Keke Palmer ain’t gonna save our asses again - or we can remove the tinfoil hats and consider the facts: This, folks, is a clear PSA about pollution. But what does this image of a flying saucer mean? In the context of a film that touches on Hollywood erasure and our own addiction to spectacle, does it mean anything? For more insight, we asked Vulture staffers to take a cue from Ancient Aliens and proudly broadcast their pet conspiracy theories to the world. With Nope, Peele introduces a new monster: a people-eating UFO haunting the skies above a remote horse ranch in Los Angeles County. Jordan Peele’s films are known for packing layers of meaning into striking, often sneakily horrific images - think of the way Allison Williams eats her cereal in Get Out or the tethers’ linked hands in Us.
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