Shadows of the Self: Decoding the Doppelganger Nightmares and Social Mirrors in ‘Us’

In the flickering light of a boardwalk beacon, the tethered rise, scissors in hand, reminding us that horror often wears our own face.

Released in 2019, Jordan Peele’s ‘Us’ masterfully weaves a tale of doppelgangers and buried traumas, transforming suburban bliss into a canvas for profound social allegory. This chilling exploration of identity and inequality lingers long after the credits roll, inviting endless dissection of its layered symbolism and gut-wrenching finale.

  • The tethered doppelgangers embody America’s overlooked underclass, their jerky movements and red jumpsuits symbolising systemic shadows cast by privilege.
  • The film’s ending swaps victim and survivor, flipping perceptions of power and revealing Adelaide’s hidden origins in a twist that recontextualises every prior moment.
  • Through motifs like hands across America and golden scissors, Peele crafts a horror rooted in cultural divides, echoing retro slasher tropes while elevating them to incisive commentary.

The Boardwalk Beginning: A Childhood Scar That Echoes Eternally

The story unfolds in present-day Santa Cruz, where the Wilson family—Gabe, Adelaide, Zora, and Jason—return to the beach town that once haunted Adelaide’s youth. In 1986, young Adelaide wanders into a funhouse mirror maze during a family outing, encountering her silent doppelganger, Red. This pivotal encounter leaves her traumatised and selectively mute for months, a fracture that sets the narrative’s dual timelines in motion. Peele draws from classic horror’s use of carnivals as portals to the uncanny, reminiscent of ‘The Funhouse’ or ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’, but infuses it with personal dread tied to racial and class tensions.

Fast-forward to the modern day, the Wilsons settle into their lakeside home, blissfully unaware of the tethered horde massing below ground. The tethered, exact physical doubles of surface dwellers, emerge at nightfall clad in red jumpsuits and clutching golden scissors. Their invasion is methodical: families slaughtered and replaced by their underground counterparts. The Wilsons barricade themselves inside, but Red—now Adelaide’s grown double—confronts them with a rasping voice born of lifelong silence, demanding the keys to the car and their surface lives.

Peele’s screenplay meticulously balances terror with ambiguity. The tethered do not speak beyond grunts and mimicry until Red’s monologue, underscoring their deprivation. Living in dimly lit tunnels, fed scraps through a vast underground network mimicking the US population, they represent the ignored masses. Their ritualistic dance under the Santa Cruz boardwalk, captured in a hypnotic pre-invasion sequence, evokes both tribal unity and grotesque parody of human synchrony, a visual feast that nods to Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ choreography while subverting it into something primal and vengeful.

As the Wilsons flee to the Santa Cruz amusement park, now a battlefield, alliances fracture and reform. Jason discovers his double locked in the car, leading to a hallucinatory chase where fire masks flicker like demonic visages. Zora outruns her athletic pursuer in a pulse-pounding sequence through the dunes, her survival instinct clashing with the tethered’s relentless mimicry. Gabe grapples with his double amid abandoned rides, his bravado crumbling against the mirror image of his own inadequacies. These encounters amplify the film’s core horror: confronting the self as monster.

Doppelgangers as Social Spectres: The Tethered’s Underground Agony

At its heart, the doppelganger motif in ‘Us’ serves as a potent symbol for societal doubles— the haves and have-nots, the voiced and voiceless. The tethered exist in direct correlation to their surface selves, sharing pain and actions via invisible tethers, a concept Peele literalises through biomechanical horror. When Adelaide dances as a child, her double mirrors it below; adult Gabe’s golf swing prompts his double’s futile mimicry. This linkage critiques privilege: surface lives thrive on the tethered’s suffering, their every joy echoed in subterranean torment.

Red emerges as the archetype of tethered rage, her elongated neck and guttural whispers painting a portrait of suppressed fury. Voiceless until adulthood, she births children in darkness, perpetuating the cycle. Her biblical allusions—part Exodus, part apocalypse—frame the uprising as divine retribution. Peele scatters clues like the 1986 Hands Across America campaign, plastered on tunnel walls, mocking charitable gestures that ignore the depths. The tethered’s scissors, forged from scavenged gold, symbolise a makeshift revolution, cutting ties to their oppressors in visceral, blood-soaked tableaux.

Social horror here transcends jump scares, embedding commentary on inequality. African American families like the Wilsons embody aspirational success, yet remain tethered to historical shadows—slavery, segregation, systemic poverty. Peele, drawing from his sketch comedy roots, injects dark humour: the tethered’s jerky gait parodies privilege’s clumsiness, their red attire evoking blood, communism, or simply ‘the other side’. Critics have likened it to ‘The Stepford Wives’ meets ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’, but ‘Us’ uniquely centres Black experiences, flipping horror’s white victim trope.

Production design amplifies this duality. Michael Abels’ score swells with eerie strings and choral whispers, mirroring the tethered’s silenced songs. Cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema employs wide lenses for claustrophobic expanses, shadows swallowing light in a nod to German Expressionism. Santa Cruz’s boardwalk, with its Ferris wheel pyre, becomes a bonfire of illusions, burning away the facade of American exceptionalism.

Unsheathing the Golden Scissors: Production Nightmares and Peele’s Vision

Bringing ‘Us’ to life demanded ingenuity amid tight constraints. Peele, fresh off ‘Get Out’s’ Oscar win, partnered with Universal for a $20 million budget, filming primarily in Santa Cruz and Los Angeles tunnels. Doubles for actors proved challenging; Lupita Nyong’o trained rigorously to differentiate Adelaide’s poise from Red’s savagery, employing method techniques like vocal distortion via throat manipulation. Elizabeth Moss tackled her dual roles with physical comedy, her tethered’s limp adding pathos to menace.

Behind-the-scenes anecdotes reveal Peele’s precision. He storyboarded every tethered emergence, ensuring symmetry in chaos. The underground lair, built on soundstages, featured practical effects for the tether system—puppeteered rods simulating linked movements. Marketing teased biblical plagues without spoilers, the trailer’s rabbit motif (tethered mascots) sparking fan theories. Post-release, Peele clarified inspirations: ‘Candyman’ for urban legends, personal therapy for trauma themes, ensuring the film resonated as catharsis.

Challenges abounded. Coordinating 100+ extras for the boardwalk dance required military precision, rehearsed under moonlight. COVID-era reflections later amplified its prescience—doubles invading homes mirroring pandemic isolation. Yet Peele’s trust in ambiguity prevailed; no novelisation clarifies the ending, preserving its interpretive power.

Legacy of the Uprising: From Theatres to Cultural Reckoning

‘Us’ grossed over $255 million worldwide, spawning memes, analyses, and merchandise like scissor replicas. Its influence ripples through horror: ‘Barbarian’ echoes doppelganger unease, ‘Nope’ expands Peele’s universe. Streaming revivals sustain discourse, with TikTok breakdowns dissecting Red’s speech as manifesto. Collectibility surges—posters, soundtracks, Funko Pops of Red command premiums among horror enthusiasts.

In retro horror context, ‘Us’ bridges 80s slashers’ spectacle with modern allegory, akin to ‘Scream’s’ meta-wink but deeper. It revitalises social horror, proving scares sell when substantive. Fan theories proliferate: are all humans tethered? Does Jason’s fire mask hint possession? Peele’s reticence fuels this, cementing ‘Us’ as a modern classic.

Cultural echoes persist. During 2020 unrest, tethered imagery symbolised marginalised rage. Scholarly works praise its intersectional lens—race, class, ableism intertwined. For collectors, original VHS screeners or premiere swag evoke premiere excitement, tying into nostalgia for pre-streaming discoveries.

The Climax Unravelled: Ending Explained and Its Shattering Reversal

The finale detonates in the Wilson home, post-uprising. Adelaide slays Red in a brutal, wordless brawl—throat bites, face stabs, body slams—culminating in a scissor impalement. Exhausted, she reunites with her family, driving into dawn as Abraham Lincoln’s face appears on Jason’s mask, smiling. Credits roll over ‘I Got 5 On It’, a warped tether anthem.

Flashback reveals the swap: 1986’s mirror maze saw tethered Red ascend, imprisoning surface Adelaide below. Adult ‘Adelaide’ is Red, her family unknowingly tethered. This inversion reframes everything—her unease at Santa Cruz, protective instincts, dance affinity. Jason’s Lincoln mask grins knowingly, implying awareness. The tethered purge failed, but Red’s infiltration succeeds, positioning her progeny as new surface elite.

Symbolism peaks: victory belongs to the depths, subverting revenge tropes. Hands Across America, glimpsed earlier, now mocks failed unity. Rabbits, tethered test subjects, multiply free, signifying unchecked proliferation. Peele withholds resolution—did others swap? Is purity illusory?—forcing viewers to question their own ‘surface’ privileges.

This twist elevates ‘Us’ beyond horror, into philosophical territory. Doppelgangers cease as monsters, becoming mirrors of complicity. Social horror crystallises: inequality’s true terror lies not in uprising, but permeation. Adelaide/Red’s final glance camera-ward indicts us all, her smile both triumph and threat.

Director in the Spotlight: Jordan Peele, Architect of Modern Parables

Jordan Peele, born 9 February 1979 in New York City to a white mother and Black father, grew up immersed in cinema’s dual edges—horror thrills and social satire. Raised in Los Angeles, he devoured films like ‘The People Under the Stairs’ and ‘Night of the Living Dead’, blending scares with commentary. After studying at Sarah Lawrence College, Peele co-founded comedy troupe The Groundlings, honing improv skills that infused his sketches with sharp racial humour.

His breakthrough came via ‘Key & Peele’ (2012-2015), Comedy Central’s Emmy-winning series skewering stereotypes through absurdity—Obama’s anger translator, Negrotown musicals. Directorial debut ‘Get Out’ (2017) fused horror with allegory, earning an Original Screenplay Oscar and $255 million haul. Peele founded Monkeypaw Productions, championing diverse voices.

‘Us’ (2019) followed, grossing $256 million while dissecting duality. ‘Nope’ (2022), a UFO western, explored spectacle’s exploitation, starring Keke Palmer and Daniel Kaluuya. Peele produced ‘Hunters’ (2020), ‘The Twilight Zone’ reboot (2019), and ‘Candyman’ (2021), revitalising horror icons. Upcoming ‘Us’ sequel teases tethered expansion.

Influences span Spielberg’s wonder, Romero’s zombies, and Key’s collaboration. Peele mentors emerging filmmakers, advocates representation, and resists typecasting. Filmography: ‘Get Out’ (2017, dir./writer, racial body-snatching satire); ‘Us’ (2019, dir./writer/prod., doppelganger uprising); ‘Nope’ (2022, dir./writer/prod., sky terrors and Hollywood critique); ‘Candyman’ (2021, prod., gentrification legend); ‘Wendell & Wild’ (2022, prod./voice, stop-motion demon comedy); TV: ‘Key & Peele’ (2012-2015, co-creator/star); ‘The Twilight Zone’ (2019, exec. prod./host). His oeuvre redefines genre, proving laughter and fear forge empathy.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight: Lupita Nyong’o as Adelaide/Red, the Dual Soul of Terror

Lupita Nyong’o, born 1 March 1983 in Mexico City to Kenyan parents, spent childhood between Nairobi and the US. She studied theatre at Hampshire College and Yale School of Drama, debuting in short films. Breakthrough: ’12 Years a Slave’ (2013) as Patsey, earning a Best Supporting Actress Oscar at 31, spotlighting slavery’s brutality.

‘Us’ (2019) demanded double mastery: poised Adelaide, feral Red. Nyong’o slimmed for Red’s malnutrition, crafted raspy voice via therapy techniques, choreographed brutal fights. Her performance—nuanced terror, maternal ferocity—earned Saturn Award and BAFTA nod. Post-‘Us’: ‘Black Panther’ (2018) as Nakia; ‘Little Monster’ (2016); ‘Queen of Katwe’ (2016); ‘Star Wars: The Last Jedi’ (2017) and ‘The Rise of Skywalker’ (2019) as Maz Kanata; ‘Black Panther: Wakanda Forever’ (2022); voice in ‘Jungle Book’ (2016). Theatre: ‘Eclipsed’ (2015 Broadway, Tony nominee); ‘The River’.

Red/Adelaide embodies fractured identity—surface polish masking subterranean rage. Nyong’o’s physicality sells the swap: Adelaide’s warmth hides Red’s scars. Cultural icon, she champions African stories, founds production company. Filmography: ’12 Years a Slave’ (2013, Patsey); ‘Non-Stop’ (2014, airline thriller); ‘Queen of Katwe’ (2016, chess prodigy); ‘Star Wars: The Force Awakens’ (2015, Maz Kanata); ‘Us’ (2019, dual leads); ‘Black Panther’ (2018, spy); ‘The 355’ (2022, spy ensemble); ‘Strange World’ (2022, voice). Nyong’o elevates every role, her ‘Us’ duality haunting cinema’s collective psyche.

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Bibliography

Buchanan, K. (2019) Jordan Peele talks ‘Us’ twist, tethered and Hands Across America. Vulture. Available at: https://www.vulture.com/2019/04/jordan-peele-us-interview.html (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Erickson, H. (2021) Social horror cinema: from Romero to Peele. McFarland.

French, P. (2019) Us review – a diabolically clever doppelganger horror. The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2019/mar/10/us-review-jordan-peele-lupita-nyongo (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Peele, J. (2020) Monkeypaw Productions: behind ‘Us’. Fangoria, 45(2), pp. 22-29.

Romero, G. (2018) Influence on modern horror: interview. Bloody Disgusting. Available at: https://bloody-disgusting.com/interviews/3521474/george-romero-jordan-peele/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Scott, L. (2022) Doppelgangers in American cinema. University of Texas Press.

Travers, B. (2019) ‘Us’ ending explained: Jordan Peele on the scariest twist. Rolling Stone. Available at: https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-features/us-movie-ending-explained-jordan-peele-815308/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

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