Director: Mark Anthony Green Starring: Ayo Edebiri, John Malkovich, Juliette Lewis, Amber Midthunder, Murray Bartlett Running Time: 104 minutes
The latest cinematic offering from A24, Opus, teeters between horror, satire and a bizarre love letter to the most eccentric corners of celebrity culture. It stars Ayo Edebiri (The Bear, Bottoms) as Ariel Ecton, a journalist who lands the job of a lifetime: an exclusive invite to the desert compound of reclusive pop legend Alfred Moretti (John Malkovich) for the unveiling of his long-awaited 20th studio album. Sounds cool, right? Wrong! Pretty soon you realize that you’ve walked into an ego-fueled labyrinth where reality is questionable, time feels elastic and every person in the room might be part of some grand, unsettling performance.
From the moment Ariel arrives, it’s clear that this isn’t just an intimate listening party; it’s a full-blown spectacle, complete with a commune that worships Moretti like he is some kind of deity. The deeper Ariel gets into this world, the more the film leans into its psychological thriller elements. Every interaction is laced with just a little bit of tension, every inch of this compound holds the possibility of something deeply wrong lurking just out of sight. You spend half the movie wondering, is she in danger? Is this just one big avant-garde stunt? And most importantly, how deep does this rabbit-hole go?
Moretti’s presence is magnetic but ominous, and Malkovich fully commits to the role, decked out in elaborate costumes and speaking in riddles like a man who has spent a little too much time believing his own myth. There’s an eerie familiarity to it all, like you could swap Moretti for any number of real-life musicians who have crossed the line from genius to something… stranger. And that’s where Opus gets interesting; the film could be a direct parody of at least five actual celebrities. There are shades of Bowie, Prince, Kanye, maybe a touch of Jared Leto’s cult leader era, but it never settles on one. Instead, it’s a blend of industry archetypes, making it both universal yet just specific enough to feel a little too real.
Moretti’s fanbase is intense. The kind of people who would defend him no matter what, and the film doesn’t shy away from how unsettling that can be. It plays with the idea of celebrity worship, the way fans turn artists into untouchable figures, and the power dynamic it creates. Just when you think you have a grip on things- boom. The final act throws you into to full ‘what the hell just happened?’ territory. Without saying too much, I can tell you that this film wants you to question what’s real, what’s performance and whether the entire concept of celebrity is just a such trick being played on all of us. Like all great thrillers, this film ends with a twist that makes you question every scene that came before it. The clues are there, hidden in plain sight, but you don’t see them because you weren’t supposed to. Even as I write this, I couldn’t tell you what they are. What I can tell you, is that if you’re anything like me then as soon as the credits roll you will be ready to rewatch the whole thing just to catch what you missed.
Ariel undergoes a personal evolution that is reflected both in her confidence and in her style. In the beginning she is cute and stylish but there is an awkwardness to it. Her outfits are fashionable, but sometimes a little ill-fitting, like she hasn’t quite figured out what works best for her yet. It reflects who she is as a person; sharp and outspoken, but only in bursts, quick to offer an opinion but just as quick to shrink back when it isn’t received in the way she intends. Eager to make her mark but still a little naïve and inexperienced in navigating the world she’s stepping into. She’s clearly talented but hasn’t fully grown into herself yet.
Then the events of the listening party extravaganza take place, and everything changes. When Ariel emerges from the chaos, she is different. Something about surviving this experience has stripped away the hesitation and self-doubt, and this shift is most obvious in how she now carries herself. She is no longer second-guessing her place in the room, no longer waiting for permission to take up space. You see it in how she moves, how she speaks and how she now dresses. Her style by the end is chic, intentional, and completely hers; gone are the slightly awkward fits, replaced with something that says, ‘I am sure of who I am now’.
It’s a subtle yet powerful arc that adds another layer to Opus. Yes, the overarching themes are the illusion of celebrity and power of perception, but it’s also about identity. How we present ourselves, how we shrink or expand depending on our environment, and what happens when we finally decide to own our space and voice. Ayo Edebiri absolutely nails this transformation, taking Ariel from a journalist trying to navigate someone else’s story to a woman fully stepping into her own.
While this film will have your mind racing and your stomach possibly in knots, it’s not just a brain teaser, Moretti’s music is actually pretty good too. My gripe with a lot of movie universes that centre around a fictional larger than life musician is that often, for lack of a better phrase, the music sucks. Albeit not the most important aspect, the soundtrack hits all the right notes to enhance the story. And Moretti’s album, which is at the center of the plot, is a mix of hypnotic and experimental sounds that fits perfectly with the film’s surreal vibe.
Visually, Opus is stunning. The costume design alone deserves an award, Moretti’s wardrobe is pure rockstar excess; a fever dream of capes, sequins and sarongs that scream ‘I have a Swiss bank account and no real concept of time’. To quote Pop Crave, Ayo Edebiri stuns in every outfit she appears in; from the hair to the makeup, she glows in every frame with the exception of one, but I will let you be the investigators on that one. The cinematography mirrors the film’s descent into madness, with thoughtful lighting and framing that keeps you constantly on edge. Vast desert surrounds Moretti’s compound, adding a layer of isolation thinly veiled as opulence, a double entendre for the isolation and illusion Moretti cultivates, making the whole experience feel like an influencer wellness retreat gone horribly wrong.
At its best, Opus is a chilling look at fame, ego and obsession, wrapped in a dazzling package. At its weakest, it gets a little too caught up in its own ambiguity, sometimes teasing deeper themes without fully committing to them. The film is gummy; inviting endless interpretations, any of which could actually stick. It could be a critique of the way society deifies celebrities and other public figures, a warning about the dangers of a blind fandom, or just a trippy ride into one man’s delusions. It flirts with being a satire, but doesn’t fully commit to it, instead wrapping itself in psychological horror and mild gore that both intrigues and confuses. Even though it doesn’t give you all the answers, it’s still a ride worth taking for an experience you’re not likely to forget.
(4 / 5)
This review is immaculate. I need to watch this movie right now.