QUICK HITS: HIM (9/19/25)

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"I'm screaming because someone said that White Chicks

wasn't in their top 10 comedies!" Isiah White (Marlon Wayans) 

rages in a scene from director Justin Tipping's HIM. © 2025

Universal Pictures. All Rights Reserved.

HIM

"Potential." It's one of the worst words that can be used to haunt a professional athlete. For every instance when it describes the performance yet to be seen, there are countless others in which it used to describe what could have been. In the case of HIM, the new football-themed horror-ish movie produced by Jordan Peele's Monkeypaw Productions, the latter description is unfortunately the accurate one. 

Marlon Wayans may come from a family full of funny people, but he has proven himself - in films like Requiem for a Dream (a frequent reference point of this reviewer) and The Ladykillers - to be the best actor in the Wayans' clan. While he can go for and often obtain a laugh with ease among his core fanbase, his ability to be dramatic is extremely underrated and deterred. In HIM, Wayans showcases a multi-layered ability for his character, an aging quarterback facing retirement or holding on for one more run at glory, to be vulnerable, motivating and, when necessary, unnerving. 

Wayans' performance, however, is by far the best thing about watching HIM, a movie that fails to capitalize on its rather interesting (and thanks to America's obsession with football and winning in the wake of concussions) premise. Tyriq Withers isn't to blame for his character, hotshot draft prospect Cameron Cade's weird disposition from one scene to the next. How else could you explain how he goes from clean cut and wholesome to letting Jim Jeffries' doctor character just start injecting him with needles and casually writing off the violence around him before embracing the predictable finish? 

Unfortunately, the main problem with HIM is that much like 2008 Detroit Lions season, the movie misses at nearly every turn. The film's game plan isn't cohesive; each scene feels like it's supposed to be it's own moment within the overarching premise, but they don't feel connected at best and half-baked at worst. Sure, there are times when the film seems like it wants to make a statement about how the word "fan" is short for "fanatic," how owners don't care about players and players being willing to injure themselves for glory. Unfortunately, the depth given to those moments is superficial at best - director Justin Tipping doesn't know if he wants to make statements or shock the audience, which leads to gore that feels there for the sake of HIM's unrefined, unfinished premise. (When you find yourself repeatedly saying, "Well, there were a couple of different ways to make that scene better" or "what was the point of that?" it's not a good thing.)

Throw in a gory climax that seemingly works against everything Withers' character has worked so hard to achieve for the previous 90 minutes and HIM ultimately fails to be the G.O.A.T. of sports horror movies. It's just a second string effort that, save for Wayans, proves it isn't ready to be a true contender.

RATING (OUT OF FOUR BUCKETS OF POPCORN: