Justin Tipping’s HIM is a genre hybrid that merges sports drama, psychological thriller, and stylized horror into one disorienting, fever-dream narrative about ambition, identity, and the cost of greatness. Produced by Monkeypaw, the film embraces an operatic sense of dread, pairing football mythology with ritualistic imagery to create something that feels both familiar and deeply uncanny. Whether every choice lands will vary by viewer, but its aesthetic boldness and thematic ambition make it an undeniably distinctive entry in contemporary horror storytelling.
At the heart of the film is Cameron Cade, a young quarterback whose trajectory appears predetermined; he’s the type of athlete scouts whisper about, the kind fans attach their dreams to. That dream collapses when Cameron is violently attacked by a stranger, leaving him with a traumatic brain injury just before the scouting combine. The attack is staged with unsettling intimacy: lingering camera movement, muffled sound, and sudden bursts of clarity replicate Cameron’s slipping consciousness. It’s a brutal introduction that immediately reframes the sports narrative into something more internal, more existential.
Cameron’s fragile recovery takes a surreal turn when he’s approached by his idol, the legendary quarterback Isaiah White. Isaiah invites him to train at his secluded compound, part retreat, part laboratory, part shrine to the mythology of athletic dominance. What begins as a mentorship becomes an immersion into something stranger, darker, and nearly spiritual. Isaiah’s methods are unconventional, at times violently so, and the compound itself feels alive with expectation. As Cameron’s body strengthens, the boundaries between ritual, training, and manipulation begin to blur.
Cameron’s emotional vulnerability is one of the film’s strongest anchors. His need to reclaim his future, combined with his deep admiration for Isaiah, makes him susceptible to the older man’s intense, sometimes intrusive coaching methods. The film gives Cameron room to oscillate between awe, fear, and determination; he embodies the universal desire to be chosen, and the danger of wanting it too much.
Isaiah White, meanwhile, is constructed as a near-mythic figure: a legend who has transcended mere athletic stature and entered the domain of icon. His charisma is immediate, but so is the sense that something in him is slightly off-center. Isaiah’s mentorship vacillates between tenderness and brutality, and the film keeps viewers constantly questioning his sincerity. Is he creating the next great athlete, or molding Cameron into a vessel for something else entirely?
Isaiah’s wife, Elsie, brings another layer of ambiguity. She is both glamorous and ghostly, at times compassionate, at times complicit in the compound’s strange rituals. Her presence offers Cameron a brief refuge from Isaiah’s intensity, but she is also entangled in her husband’s power in ways that blur the line between victim, enabler, and co-architect of the compound’s mystery. She floats through scenes like someone deeply invested in the performance of their own life, which complements the film’s liminal tone.
Visually, HIM thrives on contradiction. The film juxtaposes the hyper-physicality of football training, sweat, muscle strain, bodily impact, with spiritual symbolism and dreamlike surrealism. The cinematography often positions the compound as both sanctuary and nightmare: long, pristine hallways illuminated with stark whites; windowless training rooms pulsing with rhythmic drills; and nighttime exteriors bathed in unnatural light that turns the surrounding forest into a wall of shadow.
Zooms and slow-motion sequences are used liberally, not simply for style but to immerse the audience in Cameron’s fractured psyche. The camera frequently drifts behind him or studies him from strange angles, creating a sense that he is constantly being watched. This sense of surveillance complements the film’s themes of hero worship and the dehumanization of young athletes.
Sound design also plays a critical role. The film uses low, droning tones that swell during moments of psychological pressure, punctuated by sharp, almost painful audio cues during physical exertion or moments of supernatural suggestion. The mix makes the viewer feel physically boxed in, mirroring Cameron’s isolation.
One of the film’s most ambitious qualities is its exploration of the cultural and psychological mythology built around sports heroes. Isaiah’s compound is not just a training center—it’s a shrine to legacy, discipline, and the idea that greatness is something transcendent, even divine. Isaiah speaks about the game with the fervor of a prophet, and his mentorship is framed as both blessing and indoctrination. The film questions whether rising to greatness is a personal journey or a ritualistic sacrifice demanded by a hungry public and an insatiable sports culture.
Cameron’s injury becomes a symbolic wound, something that sets him apart, marks him, and makes him vulnerable to Isaiah’s vision for him. Throughout the film, his recovery is portrayed not only as a physical challenge but as a spiritual transformation. He is being rebuilt from the inside out, but the question is: into what?
The film also examines the seductive nature of mentorship. Cameron longs for Isaiah’s approval, relying on it even when it veers into coercion. HIM doesn’t present Isaiah as purely evil; instead, he is portrayed as someone who genuinely believes in the sanctity of greatness, even if achieving it requires blurring moral and physical boundaries. The tension lies in the uncomfortable overlap between belief and obsession.
The third act pulls the film fully into its horror elements, bringing together all of its symbolic hints, sacrifice, legacy, and bodily transformation into a climax that feels both mythic and visceral. Cameron’s confrontation with Isaiah becomes an initiation, a violent merging of past and future, mentor and protégé, idol and successor. The final sequence blurs reality so aggressively that viewers are left to interpret whether what occurs is literal, symbolic, or the final break in Cameron’s psyche.
Rather than offering tidy answers, the ending functions as a culmination of the film’s themes: the body as a vessel, greatness as inheritance, and ambition as ritual. Whether audiences experience the finale as cathartic or chaotic, it undeniably commits to the film’s vision of psychological and physical metamorphosis.
HIM is a film that swings big, sometimes wildly, but always with intent. It is visually striking, thematically daring, and anchored by performances that embrace the story’s emotional volatility. Its blend of sports mythology and occult-tinged horror makes it unlike most films in either genre. While its surrealism and symbolic density may not resonate with every viewer, its ambition and originality are undeniable.
For those drawn to atmospheric horror, character-driven psychological narratives, or stories that push the boundaries of genre, HIM offers a haunting, provocative experience, one that lingers long after the final ritual has ended.
The 4K Blu-ray release of HIM (2025) comes packed with a surprisingly robust suite of special features that deepen the film’s mythology and offer a clearer look into Justin Tipping’s creative process. The director’s feature commentary is the crown jewel, Tipping breaks down themes, on-set decisions, and the tonal tightrope the film walks between sports drama and supernatural horror. The alternate ending, “Zay’s Nightmare,” provides an eerie, more aggressively surreal conclusion that sheds light on how different the film’s final emotional note could have been.
A collection of deleted scenes—including the striking “Food or Freedom” alternate end-credits sequence, further enriches the narrative world, offering glimpses of character beats and symbolic moments that didn’t make the final cut. The featurettes are equally satisfying: “Becoming Them” examines performance and character work, “The Sport of Filmmaking” explores the physical and technical demands of shooting the training sequences, “Hymns of a G.O.A.T.” dives into the haunting musical identity of the film, and the two “Anatomy of a Scene” breakdowns give meticulous insight into the construction of the movie’s most visually intense moments.
Altogether, this 4K Blu-ray presentation feels thoughtfully assembled, not just padded with filler. Each bonus feature contributes something meaningful, whether expanding the film’s lore, illuminating production craft, or highlighting the tonal and thematic ambition behind the imagery. Coupled with the sharp UHD transfer and immersive sound mix, this release becomes more than just a way to revisit the film; it’s a genuinely enriching companion to it. For collectors, horror fans, or anyone who appreciated the film’s bold blend of styles, this is absolutely one to own.
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