In the same way that it’s easy to get lost in the spectacle of football, Him is a film that gets so drenched in its own surreal symbolism of the game’s darkness that it can’t find the endzone. A psychological horror could certainly be strung from the draining aspects of physical and mental anguish that come with rising in the ranks to the top of the NFL food chain. But all a film like this can do is repeat the same message in stylish locations, beating its point continuously against the wall, hoping you’ll be impressed with the blood splatter.

There is a promising start to the way the film begins, with the aspiring football player Cameron Cade (Tyriq Withers) desiring to be as legendary a quarterback as the revered Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans) of the San Antonio Saviors. Cameron has only known a life of football, viewing a grotesque injury on the field as necessary for winning Super Bowls. With his prospects looking great, Cameron’s success is nearly robbed when he is bludgeoned from behind by a mysterious figure. Despite this cranial injury, he marches onward when given a chance to train for the Saviors at Isaish’s creepy compound. A nightmarish week follows of football practice and embracing all the fame and fumbles that come with such a lifestyle, presented with a creepy atmosphere that may or may not be within Cameron’s damaged mind.

Such an idea has promise, especially with the inclusion of Isaiah’s influencer wife, Elisa (Julia Fox), the cautiously disillusioned sports doctor (Jim Jefferies), and Cam’s eccentrically greedy agent (Tim Heidecker). But it rarely feels like there’s momentum to any of this descent into the depths of egotism. Even as the film dices up the days into different lessons, there’s no greater revelation explored beyond the abstract concepts of football itself being a dehumanizing business model of selling your soul. Cameron spends most of his time gawking at Isaish’s menagerie of training grounds that look like something out of a Panos Cosmatos picture, arriving at the denial of evil almost inexplicably. As for Isaiah, he never really takes off as a villain, always offering uncomfortable insults and juvenile cackling, but cutting off before something meaningful can be divulged.

It all feels like wasted potential as the characters are overwhelmed by the symbolism, which is so on the nose that it could deliver a concussion. It’s aggravating to watch these wild set designs and trippy editing techniques deployed in the service of a film that can’t find much more than pagentry in its satirical terror. Rarely do the characters come off anything more than props for the scenery, with Fox’s stuffy beauty reduced to a punchline about vibrators and Heidecker’s typical blustering as a blowhard going on autopilot. Talk of fame, sacrifice, blood, and the issues of becoming the GOAT come off more like ramblings than compelling passages, ambling around several ideas before arriving at the big setpiece of a bloodbath on a football field. It’s a good-looking scene, sure, but when every moment feels like more of the same, there’s little thrill in watching a bloodied Cam slaughter rich men dressed as pigs.

Him is an exercise in dehumanizing sports that never builds any cerebral muscle in its beautiful yet blistering brow-beating. There’s a cerebral horror story to be told about the dehumanizing aspects of professional football, but the truth is, this film is a mess. It’s a nightmare that knows it’s a nightmare, becoming so obsessed with its weirdness that in its attempt to hammer home a point, it bludgeons its messaging into a mash of stylish slop.