n 1986, while visiting Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk with her parents, young Adelaide (Madison Curry) experiences a traumatic event that affects much of her childhood. Several decades later, an adult Adelaide Wilson (Lupita Nyong’o) now has a family of her own. Her husband Gabe (Winston Duke) and children Zora (Shahadi Wright Joseph) and Jason (Evan Alex) are all excited for a vacation at the family’s beach house, but Adelaide remains apprehensive. Several ominous coincidences convince the overprotective mother that someone wishes to bring harm to her loved ones. And her fears are confirmed when a quartet of menacing doppelgängers appear on their driveway that night – holding hands and grasping golden shears.

The seemingly insignificant actions of a girl watching television, choosing a prize at a carnival, and walking along a beach are all steeped in normalcy. But with producer/writer/director Jordan Peele (“Get Out”) at the helm, there’s an unmistakable eeriness even in these mundane activities. When young Adelaide wanders off on her own, no foreshadowing is necessary; she’s certain to meet some terrible – or life-altering – fate. In these initial moments, the building of tension is masterly; even without the inexplicable bravery often seen in horror pictures, Peele knows how to play with audience expectations. During several introductory scenes, nothing much happens at all, yet the feelings of dread continue to escalate. A perfectly commonplace, perhaps unusually happy family enjoying the serenity of a summer vacation has never felt so nerve-wracking.

The camera employs long, uncomfortable, lingering shots on faces and environments, further intensifying the unease, as if waiting to catch an inevitable, shocking happening. And when viewers are denied the customary jump scares (there are still a few in routine places), it’s all the more effective. The manipulation is high, but it never feels cheap, overwrought, or hard-won.

Also at Peele’s disposal are hallucinatory flashbacks (often including purposeful inaccuracies or abrupt cuts), mirrors and unforeseen reflections, repetitive imagery and symbols, reappearing locations and characters, sudden noises and movement, and some superbly dismaying music (by Michael Abels). Additionally, his script contains generous servings of comedy, oftentimes relieving tension so noticeably that it takes a few minutes to dive back into the terror. But the humor is largely appropriate, complementing the supernatural elements; Duke, in particular, presents a rational reaction to the appearance of strangers outside their home, which nicely contrasts Adelaide’s unchecked paranoia. It’s actually a wise idea to have the primary protagonist contend with the bulk of the fears alone, isolating her from the comforts of reasonable disbelief. “We’re having so many crazy coincidences lately.”

As the film explores facing inner demons, an us vs. them mentality, notions of two sides to every person, perverse concepts of duality and identity, and the oppressed turning tables on the oppressors (audiences accustomed to “Get Out’s” more observable social commentary will surely ponder and dissect the layers of this multifaceted work), the psychological thrills become absolutely exhilarating. The villains are freakishly formidable, with complex, cryptic motives, combining the home invasion chills of “Funny Games” and “The Strangers” with the preternatural incidents of “Annihilation” or even “Silent Hill.” “Us” works best when the setting is intimate and the terrorizing is restricted to the Wilson family; sadly, toward the conclusion, the scope grows too big, allowing the metaphors, a literal descent into madness, and the logistics of the doubles to disintegrate. Too much hinges on the ultimate revelations, causing the explanations to shift into the realm of fantasy; as each piece of the mystery is unearthed, less and less makes sense. Nevertheless, “Us” is a technical marvel, looking and feeling exceptionally disturbing. And it certainly helps that the cast is first-rate, while the cinematography, framing, and editing all sensationally contribute to the supremely disconcerting ordeals.

– The Massie Twins