Opus

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Director Mark Anthony Green’s “Opus” is an ambitious but uneven satirical horror-thriller that bites off more than it can chew. Centered on a young journalist named Ariel (Ayo Edebiri) who is invited to the secluded desert compound of a legendary pop star (John Malkovich) long thought to be missing, the film attempts to explore themes of celebrity worship, journalistic ethics, and the cult of fame. Unfortunately, despite its lofty aspirations, it never fully delivers on its big ideas. The cast is terrific, and their hard work keeps everything from sinking completely. Edebiri is so relatable (and quite funny) as a rookie writer caught in a surreal and sinister game, while Malkovich (who is perfectly cast here) fully leans into his enigmatic, manipulative role. Their dynamic crackles with potential, making it even more rewarding to watch as the cast of supporting characters (an entourage of sycophantic followers and inebriated journalists) are picked off one by one despite the warnings from Ariel that something is just not right. There are moments of sharp and inspired satire, especially in the exaggerated, synth-laden musical interludes that showcase the absurdity of celebrity culture. The lavish parties, meals, and activities are fun until they aren’t. The eventual discomfort of a reveal and bloody violence that follows is equal parts shocking and hysterical, and all of the film’s more outrageous moments at least feel earned. Despite getting a lot of things right, the film suffers from an identity crisis. It wants to be a biting critique of pop culture obsession, a psychological thriller, and an eerie horror film all at once, but it never quite lands any of these elements in a satisfying way. Green sets up intriguing ideas but doesn’t develop them meaningfully. Not only does the tension never really escalate, but it culminates in an ending that feels like an epic letdown of an afterthought instead of a deliciously wicked payoff. In the end, “Opus” isn’t as clever as it thinks it is (or as it wants so desperately to be). It flirts with brilliance, but settles for just being merely okay. By: Louisa Moore / SCREEN ZEALOTS

This had good potential and John Malkovich can usually be relied upon when eccentricity is needed, but the rest of this is an incomplete and rather messy reminder of “Midsommar” meets “Ten Little Indians”. He is the reclusive pop star “Moretti” who announces after almost thirty years away, that he is to release his comeback album. The industry goes wild for this news and when he announces his own version of a golden ticket and invites a select group to join him for an exclusive get together at his ranch, the enthusiast journalist “Ariel” (Ayo Edebiri) accompanies her limelight hogging boss to this ultimate weekend. Of course, as soon as she arrives she finds the place akin to a cult. Loads of almost automaton acolytes, some cruelly painful oyster shucking and loads of sexually fluid flamboyance from their host all starts to get her heckles up and gradually we become aware that their is an altogether ulterior motive for this carefully contrived fine dining experience. When one of their number goes missing, well things rapidly speed to a denouement that is straight out of Agatha Christie. The point it makes in the end is actually quite a clever one, but the rest of this is all derivative and simplistic. Why were this group selected? Who are they? What have they in common with each other or with their antagonist? For something that’s supposed to be random and spontaneous, the entire plot depends on characters making very specific (and not always the most natural of) choices en route. Malkovich does stand out, but that might also be as much to do with the really mediocre writing and the remainder of the cast delivering a very join-the-dots performance. Sadly, this is nothing original nor special and really disappoints.