Recently, I was privileged to see Jordan Peele’s latest thriller, “Us.” I expected (and greatly enjoyed) its unsettling terror, dark humor bits, and smart writing. I didn’t expect its haunting exploration of the human psyche’s inclination to harm itself to strike me, a chronic pain sufferer, on such a deeply personal level. While the message, “You are your own worst enemy” may just sound like another cliche, Peele’s dark edge takes it to the next level. The film holds an unflattering mirror to his audience: facing us to glare at the ugliest parts of ourselves that we are so good at repressing. As Freud has taught us: we can deny, reject, and repress all we want-- but sooner or later, these monsters will find a way to make themselves known, often in unexpected and disturbing ways. In “Us,” this means a bloodbath of epic proportions. While there isn’t a human on the planet who can’t relate to this warning (that is, if he is being honest with himself), this film’s disturbing take resonates profoundly with many suffering from a complicated chronic pain condition: Tension Myositis Syndrome, or TMS.
The plot of “Us” centers on the American family, the Wilsons. This family of four travels to their vacation home near the beach. However, a flashback to the 80s at the beginning of the film warns us that this isn’t any ordinary beach. We witness the current matriarch of the family, Adelaide, as a little girl. She wanders the carnival near the water with her two parents. At one point, when temporarily unsupervised, the small child meanders towards the beach, and eventually into an eerie mirror house all alone. After slowly and cautiously making her way through the maze of reflections, she abruptly encounters what appears to be her real-life doppelganger in a moment of sheer-terror (followed by a swift camera-cut to the next scene). Present-day Adelaide’s apprehensive expression as the family nears their destination foreshadows the inevitable return of this childhood trauma. In true Freudian fashion, Peale reveals through an interview: “I believe that any emotion and any conversation that we suppress – meaning that we don’t let it bubble to the surface - is like a ticking time bomb.” (Christensen, 9). Even years of growing up and starting a family isn’t enough to separate Adelaide from this harrowing experience, and the audience knows this double is destined to make a comeback.
Hero to many former chronic pain sufferers, Dr. John E. Sarno was also a strong believer that the ugly things we bury deep down will often find violent ways to make themselves known. As thoroughly documented in his many books (his first being published in 1982), Sarno discovered the strong link between emotional trauma and chronic physical pain, and was able to help cure tens of thousands of patients, including severe cases. (To be clear, we are talking about conditions such as headaches, back pain, fibromyalgia, or any body pain without a clear, physical cause). Sarno found that when there was no structural explanation for the pain, the patient had undergone some sort of trauma, and he/she had certain personality traits (e.g. perfectionism, people-pleasing), TMS was often the culprit. The pain, though very real, was triggered by a psychological process of repression. In his own words, “The purpose of a defense mechanism (in this case physical symptoms) is to divert people’s attention to the body, so that they can avoid the awareness of or confrontation with certain subconscious (repressed) feelings,” (The Mindbody Prescription, xvii). In other words: one’s body may produce pain to distract herself from the ugly, repressed feelings brewing in the subconscious. If the pain successfully removes the individual from a stressful environment (e.g. a chronic pain patient having to quit her job), the subconscious was successful. The subconscious may get what it wants-- an excuse not to feel emotional pain, but the price one must pay is great physical suffering.
Of course, If you tell a chronic pain-sufferer that she must want to be in pain, you’ll probably get slapped in the face (and you’ll probably deserve it). As Sarno demonstrates, it’s not this simple. One’s conscious self may be visiting countless doctors and doing everything in her power to eliminate the pain, but so long as she continues repressing those unbearable thoughts and feelings, the pain will linger, and often, get stronger over time. Repression only makes the ugly emotions stronger-- if she denies they exist, they will scream. If they can’t be expressed in her conscious thoughts and words, then they will make themselves known through the body.
“Us” is a literal representation of what many chronic pain sufferers endure: constant warfare in one’s own psyche: two sides of the same person battling for power. The Wilson family’s first night in the vacation home is abruptly interrupted by a family of violent intruders. They break in and terrorize the family with their erratic movements, display of sharp shears, and terrifying grins. Finally, the two families come face to face. Voice trembling, the son Jason, horrifically realizes, “It’s us.” As you can imagine, violent struggles ensue throughout the rest of the film: each family member attempting to murder their darker versions. And who can think of a better opponent than oneself? Armed with the same strength, abilities, and instincts as their evil counterparts, it’s near impossible for either side to get a leg up. For example, Zora, the daughter, is established at the beginning of the film as a runner. So by default, so is the dark version of Zora. As soon as she thinks she has successfully ran away from the intruders, her clone shortly appears in front of her, complete with dead eyes and her haunting permanent grin. In the same vein, the father, Gabe, is a big guy...but then so is his double, of course. The battle between them is one of brute, visceral force: a struggle between two men completely matched in both size and strength. We soon learn that the family is not the only victim. After years of confinement underground miserably miming those living above, the degenerate clones planned a vicious takeover. And the more who succeed in murdering their better halves, the prouder the stand: literally hand-and-hand across America. They are sick of living in the dark and musty sewers (just like the TMS patient’s emotional pain is sick of being repressed deep down in the subconscious). If they are forced to be hidden, they will continue to demand to be seen, recognized, heard-- and if violence and physical hurt is the consequence, then so be it.
While a gruesome battle between you and your psychotic double is understandably terrifying, what is so scary about thoughts and feelings? How can something abstract possibly be so bad that it can produce relentless physical pain? Sarno cites childhood abuse-- sexual, physical, and emotional-- as major contributors (The Mindbody Prescription, 21). It really isn’t surprising to learn through Sarno that any severe trauma can lead to undesired feelings and thoughts one would choose to repress for years, even an entire lifetime. Additionally, certain personality traits and tendencies makes one a candidate for TMS: low-self esteem, perfectionism, goodism (“the need to be good”), and guilt to name a few (The Mindbody Prescription, 23-24). These characteristics, especially when extreme, highlight one’s battle within herself: the ambition to be the best and the refusal to forgive oneself for her mistakes can understandably cause constant inner-conflict. Compare these ideas to Peele’s statement when asked if his own worst fear is himself: “ No, but in some ways, yes. I think our own feelings of guilt and inadequacies - that can really haunt us,” (Christensen, 11). It may seem a stretch to suggest something like perfectionism may produce such horror: whether as symbolic violence on film or true physical pain within one’s body. However, Sarno would state the effects can be so powerful because these tendencies, especially over time, feed rage. Sarno explains:
“...We repress anger that violates our image of ourselves. For example, if I have a strong need to seek approval from everyone in my environment and someone does something that angers me, I will automatically repress that anger because it destroys myself as a “nice guy.” Repression is a consistent unconscious reaction that never fails,” (The Mindbody Prescription, 165).
We see a true and serious conflict here: the conflict between wanting to be seen as a “nice guy,” but also needing to express anger at another. We want to uphold a pristine image of ourselves, but this requires an utter denial of our deeply-embedded instincts. If our increasing rage is continuously trapped, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to imagine physical pain in the aftermath.
In one scene near the beginning of the film, the family is enjoying dinner when Gabe rebukes his son for using foul language (this happens a couple times throughout the film). Jason retorts the old adage: “When you point your finger at someone, there are three others pointing back at you.” And really, that’s the point of the whole film. In one sense, the family members were battling enemies out to kill them. In another sense, they were battling themselves, specifically, those darker parts that they normally hide. The point isn’t to make us feel horrible about these not-so-pretty aspects of ourselves, but to shine a painfully honest light on the dark, musty recesses of our minds. None of us live up to the unattainable images in our heads, and Peele challenges us to accept that. As Peele states in regard to our unpleasant emotions: “We need to face these things. That is the very nature of fear: We try to block it out. We try not to think of the things that we are scared of. We try not to experience that emotion,” (Christensen, 9). If we can let go of the unsettling terror after watching this film (which I’ll admit may be easier said than done), the next step is to face the un-faceable, to think the unthinkable when it comes to our own flaws and burdens. While this isn’t exactly the time and place to elaborate on Sarno’s prescription for those suffering with TMS, I can certainly hint that it starts allowing those repressed thoughts and feelings rise to the surface and to finally be known. It’s important to remember that in “Us,” it was the clones’ collective rage at being confined to a life in the sewers that triggered their murder-spree. Ultimately, it’s our own individual choice what to with our darker parts, our unreasonable and prideful egos that demand our attention. We can continue to shove them in the dimly-lit corners of our psyche if we so wish, and we might get away with this for some period of time. As for me, I think it’s time to come to terms with my own ugliness because in a war between my fearful conscious and my rage-fueled subconscious...well, I’m not so sure my better half would come out on top.
Works Cited
Us. Directed and written by Jordan Peele, performances by Lupita Nyong’o, Winston Duke, Shahadi Wright Joseph, and Evan Alex. Universal Pictures, 2019.
Christensen, Tina Jobnnk. “Jordan Peele: You Are Your Own Worst Enemy.” Golden Globes, HFPA, 18 Mar. 2019, www.goldenglobes.com/articles/jordan-peele-you-are-your-own-worst-enemy.
Sarno, John E. The Mindbody Prescription: Healing the Body, Healing the Pain. Hatchette Book Group, 1999.
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