I wanted to let HIM sit for a few days before diving into this review, because sometimes it takes a moment to process what you’ve just seen. HIM is one of those films where you walk out unsure if you loved it or hated it — but you felt it. It digs deep into American football culture, exploring how trauma, sacrifice, and obsession blur the lines between religion, patriotism, and spectacle. And while it doesn’t always stick the landing, it swings hard and often hits.
The acting is excellent. Marlon Wayans commands the screen, in a serious and terrifying way. Tyriq Withers delivers a strong performance as the blank-slate boy who grows into the harsh realities of professional football, while Julia Fox brings a campy, glamorous energy as the league’s headpiece of lust — a bit out of place, but her over-the-top presence adds laughs. Even Tim Heidecker stands out with his subtle eccentricity, rounding out a cast that feels fully committed to the film’s intense and surreal world.
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Thematically, HIM goes for the jugular. It’s less about the game itself and more about what football represents in America: masculinity, violence, devotion, and death. The film examines how white Christian values and American jingoism have been grafted onto sports culture — sometimes with terrifying consequences. The pro team is called The Saviors, and one character, Isaiah, says plainly, “He died for us, so I play for Him,” flipping the classic “God, family, football” hierarchy and putting the game above the divine.
The visual symbolism is rich. The acronym GOAT (Greatest of All Time) gets reimagined through a sacrificial lens, with athletes treated as blood offerings to a ravenous audience. Crosses are juxtaposed with occult imagery. One standout shot features a Last Supper-style photoshoot with a player in the Jesus seat — a scene that had people walking out of my Atlanta screening. You can imagine how that played with the God-fearing football crowd, arguably the film’s target audience and biggest critics.
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About halfway through, the plot starts to unravel. It’s hard to tell if we’re watching a descent into supernatural horror or just the human rot beneath the surface. The film keeps layering metaphor upon visual allegory until the core narrative gets buried, making it a bit messy — compelling, but messy. Still, I respect what HIM is trying to do. It understands the myth-making power of sports in America — and how easily devotion becomes obsession. The desert landscapes make the saturated colors pop, while the warm, cozy family scenes contrast beautifully with the sterile, intense training camp sequences. The play with shadows and light is fantastic. That said, the film does feel somewhat cut short; with a little extra runtime, we could have explored a few more unanswered questions and fully fleshed out some of the storylines.
The movie also constantly reminds you of the brain trauma football players experience. Scenes that cue to heat maps or health scans underline the physical cost of the sport — a reality many men pursue for innocent and valid reasons. The protagonist’s hallucinations, caused by concussions, intensify the surreal and wild scenarios that unfold.
I will say, HIM is a striking, sometimes messy exploration of obsession, devotion, and the myth of sports in America. It’s not always easy to digest, but it’s impossible to forget.
