Few films (if any) this year have left me more conflicted than “Him”. Directed by Justin Tipping, “Him” is a sensory feast that serves up helping after helping of big bold ideas. Unfortunately for it (and us), many of them come out the creative oven half-baked rather than fully cooked. Yet the movie’s unflinching vision and ferocious sense of style makes its allegory-soaked deconstruction of football culture hard to turn away from, even if it never reaches the heights of its ambition.

“Him” is a queasy cinematic mix of surrealist horror and football drama that’s more committed to telling its story through striking imagery than narrative cohesion. Making sense of everything we see gets harder and harder as we go, and the movie doesn’t seem to care. It doesn’t leave us with much time to think about anything, and it certainly doesn’t take its own time to explore the ideas it opens up.

And that gets to one of the bigger frustrations with “Him”. I could fill a lengthy paragraph just listing the themes introduced by Tipping and his co-writers Skip Bronkie and Zack Akers. Without question they are vividly and surprisingly potent. But the filmmakers are too content with simply revealing themes rather than examining them. There are so many things expressed about the world of sports that are begging to be explored.

Yet while “Him” may cast its net too wide, it still cleverly gets several big points across with alarming and often unsettling clarity. It starts with its intentionally heavy-handed and highly effective comparing of professional football to a religious cult. The grooming of young acolytes/athletes, the veneration of our on-field idols, the ritualistic worship of sporting events, the sacrifice of self at the alter of success and stardom. It’s a powerful analogy that is woven into the story from its fiery beginning to its blood-drenched finish.

But “Him” goes even further. It also delves into such issues as parental pressures, athlete commodification, the allure of fame, the mental and physical toll of performing at high levels, the predatory nature of sports agencies, and the cold dehumanizing business side of professional sports. Again, it’s way too much for one movie to handle. But Tipping gets in several good shots while also exposing some powerful truths.

Interestingly, the name plastered across every poster, trailer, and TV spot is Jordan Peele. Peele serving as a producer is meant to be a major selling point. But the person most people will be talking about as they leave the theater will be Marlon Wayans. He delivers a scorching performance playing Isaiah White, the superstar quarterback of the San Antonio Saviors. With eight championship rings to his name, White has been heralded as the G.O.A.T. But with his contract set to expire at the end of the year, he and the team may be looking to pass the torch.

Enter Cameron Cane (Tyriq Withers), a college football superstar who many believe will be the next Isaiah White. But days before the pro football combine, the consensus #1 pick in the upcoming draft is attacked by an obsessed fan, leaving him with a severe concussion. While the football world questions Cam’s status in light of his injury, Isaiah invites him to his remote sanctuary/compound in the desert for a mini bootcamp. If Cam impresses Isaiah he’ll get a contract with the Saviors and he’ll be christened as Isaiah’s successor.

But what starts as training with his hero turns into a dark, nightmarish descent that pits Cam’s quest for greatness against the grueling cost of achieving it. The brutal workout drills with Isaiah’s ruthless practice squad, the grinding body training regimens, the mysterious injections and blood transfusions – the film sends Cam on a deranged downward spiral that pushes his body and mind to the brink of destruction. Tipping intercuts these scenes with warped imagery accented by Bobby Krlic’s ominous score that’s meant to emphasize the physical and psychological violence Cam endures.

It’s all driven by Isaiah who Wayans portrays as a whirlwind of charm and menace. Withers is an intriguing protagonist despite being frustratingly opaque. They both fully commit to the material which ushers them along at a breakneck pace, right through the film’s blistering, batty, and bloody ending. It’s the kind of finish that can legitimately make or break your opinion of the movie. For me, it was a genre-licious exclamation point to a movie overflowing with rich and provocative themes, some that are amply dissected, others not as much.

VERDICT – 2.5 STARS