Jordan Peele's filmmaking sensibilities are strong in Us, with a handful of technically impressive elements to his sophomore effort. The cinematography and imagery is gorgeously captured on screen, with every frame packed with a rich visual language; Michael Abels' sharp score infests the picture magnificently, heightening the horror efficiently; and, for the most part, the performances are solid, with Lupita Nyong’o impressing in her first (dual) leading role, bringing a scene-stealing (if underused) Elisabeth Moss along for the ride.

But, when the film's major twist feels *so* blatantly signposted and the finale turns into one extended exposition dump, I found myself untethering from Us as the seconds ticked on. Jarring is the film's combination of horror and comedy (particularly when compared to the impeccably subtle and considered way Peele managed it throughout Get Out's screenplay), with characters existing solely as comedic relief, as if the film is far too self-aware and proud to fully embrace its genre roots. Leaving you with more questions than it cares to answer (a trait I typically adore in cinema but rubbed me up entirely the wrong way here), there's something thematically impenetrable about everything it tries to do or say.

Now, I blame this on a symptom of my condition: being the dumbest bitch alive!!! There is such density to Us that a second watch is undoubtedly required and I shall dive in again soon, but my overwhelming reaction to this first experience is one of disappointment and confusion and frustration, mainly in myself -- but i'm working on it.