Even a TMZ photographer arrives at the ranch willing to risk his life for a photo. The characters, in spite of the danger, can’t help but look at the UFO, because they feel the need to take pictures of it like fans seeking selfies with celebrities. Jupe surrounds himself with souvenirs from his traumatic television career. It’s important to consider the interest Nope takes in the vapidity of stardom and the machine-grinding ways in which Hollywood reduces creative spirits to shadows of themselves.
Initially, the UFO’s intentions appear unclear: Is it a friend, a foe, or something unknowable? OJ only knows not to look directly at the ship, which it takes as aggression or interest - a major hang-up, considering that the siblings want to film the craft. When a shocked OJ spots a UFO zipping across the sky, he and Emerald concoct a plan to film the object and use the footage to get themselves rich and possibly famous.
On the Haywood ranch, a series of strange occurrences follows the rain of coins and keys: The power zaps out, horses turn wild and sprint into the night, a cacophony of screams amid a visceral soundscape fills the brushland. They begin selling horses to local Western-themed amusement park owner Ricky “Jupe” Park (Steven Yeun), a former child star who survived a murderous chimp rampage on his television show in the 1990s. From their dad, the pair inherit a ranch sunk deep in debt. The simplistic plot first maneuvers through tragedy: Small objects mysteriously tear through the sky, striking and killing OJ and Emerald’s father in the opening scene. He has greater control in building out the monster component of Nope, though it’s also messy. Peele’s script perpetually stops short of adding up all the moving parts into a whole Who is Emerald, apart from being a classic showbiz grifter? Peele is only moderately interested in the answer to that question. But her rapid-fire pitch to a film crew about her artistic passions flies by so quickly that the audience can barely hold on. There’s a justness to her frustration and hope that should prompt a swelling of the heart, or at least a rooting interest.
Peele’s script should let the audience in on feeling her desire. She doesn’t want to be erased like her forefather, or like the other Black creatives who’ve inhabited Hollywood for decades. But it’s partly why Emerald is so captivated with breaking into Hollywood. That territory doesn’t really bother the quiet, closed-off OJ.
Like the horses they train, the siblings live in the background of the movie business. But the biggest surprise of the tight-lipped Nope is that it’s Jordan Peele’s weakest film.Įmerald and OJ are, as one character backhandedly calls them, “Hollywood royalty.” They’re descendants of the largely forgotten Black man riding a horse in Eadweard Muybridge’s The Horse in Motion, purportedly the first film in history. Maybe it’s because he’s uninterested in exploring the inner lives of his characters, who largely coast on repetitive punchlines and cloying sentimentality. Maybe that running lack of impact has to do with Peele’s unwillingness to let Nope tell a story beyond winking references. The scene captures the siblings’ broad beats, but its deployment so late in the film keeps it from landing with the force Peele probably hoped for.
OJ sits, tight-jawed, aware of his sister’s anguish but unable to emotionally engage with her. Ever since then, she’s only been nominally interested in the family business.Īs she tells her story, the lens tightens around Emerald’s face while tears stream down her cheeks. Their father Otis (Keith David) promised her a horse of her own, but instead brought OJ in on training him for work on The Scorpion King, as a father-son project. About halfway through Nope - Jordan Peele’s sci-fi Western horror follow-up to Us and Get Out, centered around two Black siblings training horses for Hollywood projects - Emerald (Keke Palmer) explains to her curt brother OJ (Daniel Kaluuya) why she lives such a disappointed life.