In this ambitious feature debut from Mark Anthony Green, Opus, obsession feeds vanity, and vanity makes the world of mythical pop-star Alfred Moretti go round.
In a New York City pitch room, we meet up-and-coming journalist Ariel Ecton (Ayo Edebiri) and her boss Stan Sullivan (Murray Bartlett). The office is being swept up by a groundbreaking announcement: beloved pop icon Alfred Moretti (John Malkovich), who has been absent from the public eye for 30 years, is slated to make a return to fame with a new album. Intrigue grows when a pair of invitations to join Moretti for a luxurious weekend-long listening party in celebration of his 18th studio album, Caesar’s Request, arrive via mail cart. One is addressed to Stan, and the other, to everyone’s surprise (and a resounding chorus of “huh?” and “who?”), is addressed to Ariel.
This might just be the big break that Ariel is looking for and a chance to prove her worth as a journalist. She can pitch a good story, but she’s not yet deemed good enough to write them, and they get assigned elsewhere. Even those outside of work seem to think she’s too “middle,” as a close friend rather harshly reminds her that she’s not yet interesting enough to have anyone care about what she thinks, loves, or hates. Ouch. This is a scene that feels plucked right out of any ambitious person’s personal nightmare.
The dismissal continues once she makes it to Moretti’s compound in Green River, Utah, where Stan is quick to remind her of her purpose on the trip. He will write the piece, she will be the note taker, and no, there will be no secondary story for her to put her name to. Overshadowed and dismissed by her boss and peers, Opus does well to center its protagonist in a rather realistic struggle for prominence in an industry that is, quite frankly, brutal. Edebiri brings a convincing portrayal of a young journalist who, despite it all, is determined to have the world care about what she has to say. By the end of her weekend in Green River, Utah, that wish is certainly fulfilled.
If Ariel wants to write about interesting people, well—she hits the jackpot when she comes face to face with Alfred Moretti. Through shots of newsreels and magazine covers and a cut to a shadowy, leather-clad figure on a smoke-filled stage, we come to understand that the fictional pop star of this story is dubbed one of the most famed entertainers of all time, with an impact that surpasses that of Bowie and The Beatles.
Opus constructs this aura of super stardom around Moretti in a rather believable way, and it starts immediately. The film opens with an assembly of enraptured fans lost in the heady bass of a Moretti track (sung by Malkovich himself, like the rest of the music) with literal stars shining in their eyes. There are screaming, sign-bearing fans posted outside of the gates of Moretti’s compound, clearly desperate to catch just a glimpse of the star.
Much of this intrigue can, and should, be attributed to Malkovich. The Oscar-nominated actor imbues Moretti with an outward sense of authority and charisma that almost completely hides the sinister chaos that bubbles just underneath. His presence is both enjoyable and unsettling in a way that does well to foreshadow what’s to come. By the time he appears to host the first dinner of the trip, towering over his guests and dripping in diamonds, I was even craning my neck from the audience to finally get a good look at him. Alfred Moretti—the Debutante and Don Diva himself—had arrived, and I was all in.
As one might expect of a remote settlement in the middle of nowhere, things get weird, fast. Life on the compound is intense. Ariel and Stan are joined by four other members of the media: talk-show host Clara Armstrong (Juliette Lewis), the “queen of the paparazzi” Bianca Tyson (Melissa Chambers), lifestyle influencer Emily Katz (Stephanie Suganami), and Bill Lotto (Mark Sivertsen), former close friend of Moretti. All devices are confiscated upon their arrival, replaced instead by a gift basket of items to keep them busy in between their pre-planned schedule of activities in desert paradise.
But Ariel is quick to sense that something is off. She’s perturbed by the constant, dead-behind-the-eyes smiles of Moretti’s blue-uniformed staff and constantly followed by her ‘concierge’ Belle (Amber Midthunder), who monitors her every move. She suspects cult activity as she begins to read their gifted book, Meditations of Level, which carries a simple message—“Teach them young and the world will be yours.” She is personally assured by Moretti that these teachings, of a religion-adjacent set of beliefs that he refers to as Level, are willingly followed by his staff and compound inhabitants, known as Levelists. Before long, guests begin to go missing, and Ariel has had enough. Unsurprisingly, Moretti’s mirage of music and community isn’t all that it seems.
There is a lot to like about Opus. It looks great, both in style and grade, thanks in part to cinematographer Tommy Maddox-Upshaw. So much of the direction does well to position Moretti above everyone else: in one scene, the audience is positioned behind his head as he looms over a table of guests, and in another, we lurk off to the side as he lies on a chaise lounge, a team of stylists preparing him to face an audience.
The vanity of Moretti, and the obsession that this feeds, is clearly the center point of this film, and the camera work certainly aids this. But, if Opus is to be perceived as an allegory for the cult of celebrity itself, it does little to explore it beyond any obvious, surface-level truths. It’s entirely held up by the intrigue surrounding Malkovich’s elusive pop star and backed by Edebiri’s Nancy Drew-esque sleuthing, as well as their ridiculously naive group of invitees.
But bad things happen at Moretti’s compound, and we’re never really offered an insight into why. Thematically, this is the kind of debut you might expect from former GQ editor Mark Anthony Green. It touches on themes that he is obviously deeply familiar with, at least when it comes to Ariel’s experience of journalism. There are references to the fading relevance of print media, the rise of podcasting, and the media presence of influencers that, if explored more thoroughly, probably would have brought welcome insight.
Ultimately, the social commentary of this intended social thriller fails to arrive, and it feels like an even more disappointing misfire under the film’s premise, which, although not entirely original, was promising. A concept is only as good as its execution, no matter how entertaining and 90’s pop star-filled it is. Opus obviously has things to say. It’s a shame that it never really says them.
Opus is out now in theatres.
Review Written By Erin Mussett
