‘Opus’ (review)

For as long as there have been celebrities, there have been superfans – those that take their love of the art to levels any sane person would reasonably question.

Whether this means tattoos of song lyrics, campouts for tickets, or encyclopedic knowledge of personal details of someone who may never know you were born, the cult of celebrity requires a certain level of cringe to exist, because what is an outsized response without an appropriately conservative one to compare to?

In Opus, fanaticism allows for a suspension of belief for many of the main characters until it is far too late for them, but also too late for the audience to still be onboard.

The directorial debut of filmmaker Mark Anthony Green is plagued with missed opportunities, wasted top-tier casting,  and a premise that has been covered better and earlier by more seasoned filmmakers who would likely cringe at this pale imitation.

Ariel (Ayo Edebiri) is an overlooked journalist at a top music magazine, whose plan is to write about interesting people until she herself becomes interesting enough to read about.

We open on her giving excellent framing for a story only to have her setup given to another journalist. She is never the first choice, so when ’90s international pop legend Moretti (John Malkovich) emerges from a 30 year hiatus with a new album, she is a truly out-of-left-field pick to head to a luxurious junket with a handful of far more influential guests.

Each person was hand selected by the “Wizard of Wiggle” (yes, you read that right) himself, to listen to his magnum opus “Caesar’s Request” at his remote Southwestern compound.

From the start, Ariel is suspicious at the level of worship Moretti inspires. At the welcome dinner, he peeks over her shoulder to find her scribbling the word “sycophant” in her notes.

Whether he enjoys or needs this level of devotion feels secondary to the desire of his fans to give it. The handful of people joining them, including her dismissive editor, a social media influencer, and a few other barely fleshed out roles, are more willing participants who are worshiping access as equally or moreso than Moretti’s musical brilliance.

No one is playing anyone they have not before. Who but John Malkovich could embody an aging pop star that has not missed a beat, with charisma that is so inspirational an entire compound of navy-clad forever cheerful artists (who share Moretti’s intense “Levelist” beliefs of artistic purity) are willing participants in his every whim?

Edebiri is channeling her character in The Bear, where she would constantly question why a choice was being made by her brilliant but unbalanced head chef while lacking the standing to be heard. The scenes with just the two of them are the most interesting, but they are few and far between. Many of the ensemble interactions feel like filler tracks that you’d skip to get to the next single, which is a shame for a film that boasts Juliette Lewis, Murray Bartlett, and Tony Hale.

As the demands for participation turn from quirky (give up your phones to be present) to invasive (give up your pubic hair to be present), no one responds to the alarms Ariel is raising to an almost comical level. When fellow guests start disappearing, suffering “accidents”, or realizing they are increasingly surveilled, the lack of reaction becomes an annoyance as we wait impatiently for resolution.

Within the first 45 minutes, the audience is already so far ahead of the formulaic action onscreen that a person could comfortably leave to refresh their popcorn and not miss a beat.

This is not to say there aren’t interesting, shiny aspects to engage the viewer. Even the grimmest person can find a few Beyoncé tracks they can bop to. The original songs composed by Nile Rodgers and The-Dream are haunting, but sleek, and certainly worthy of an independent listen.

The costuming works wonderfully for Malkovich as he presides over dinner in velvet suits that drip with crystal detailing, or gyrates in a geometric gold top while previewing a club banger. The endless navy of the cultish Levelists manages to be varied and rich, and outside of the below-the-belt grooming the guests’ “makeover sessions” end in upgrades worthy of What Not To Wear reveals.

If you have seen The Menu or Blink Twice, you have already watched a better version of this film. The set-up is all too familiar now: slick remote location + hyper-exclusive guest list + escalating violence in service to “the art” = sendup of stan culture.

But Opus comes off as nothing more than a shallow cover of someone else’s hit.

*  *  *  *  *
Produced by Collin Creighton, Brad Weston, Poppy Hanks,
Jelani Johnson, Mark Anthony Green, Josh Bachove
Written and Directed by Mark Anthony Green
Starring Ayo Edebiri, John Malkovich, Juliette Lewis, Murray Bartlett,
Amber Midthunder, Stephanie Suganami, Young Mazino, Tatanka Means