Though writer/director Mark Anthony Green’s new film Opus bears at least a passing resemblance to 2022 Ralph Fiennes/Anya Taylor-Joy-led movie The Menu, its examination of the broader impact of popular music and the cult of fame feels a little more everyman than the restrictive nature of food helmed by a celebrity chef.
In Opus, The Bear star Ayo Edebiri is Ariel, an up-and-coming writer for a Rolling Stone-esque music magazine who is repeatedly overlooked by her editor (The Last of Us alum Stan Sullivan). Ariel’s late-Millennial angst feels like a relatable combo of entitlement and reality—she’s a talented writer, for sure, and one who faces casual and subtle misogyny and racism; but she’s also about two seconds into a career and, as her maybe-lover (Young Mazino) says, she hasn’t really experienced enough from life for anyone to care about her perspectives and opinions.
Then Moretti returns. The enigmatic pop star (John Malkovich) has been MIA for roughly 30 years, but his unexpected return heralds the announcement of a new album alongside the most exclusive of invites to his remote Utah compound for a listening event. Ariel unexpectedly snags an invite alongside a number of old guard media types played by Melissa Chambers, Juliette Lewis and Mark Silversten. Oh, and there’s an influencer in there, too, but, like, gross.
Ariel makes the trek to Moretti’s place along with her editor (who is sure to repeatedly mention it’s his story to write) and the others, but then wild tragedies begin to befall the cohort of culture journalists. Why does Moretti seemingly have a cult living on his land? What is the religion known as Level? Why can’t we all just rock n’ roll?
OK, so maybe this film is a little more like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory than it is The Menu. Like Gene Wilder’s unhinged Willy Wonka, Malkovich seems to revel in the unhinged wildness of his aging rockstar character, and those journalist types? Well, they’re mostly brats. They worship at Moretti’s feet, too, and why not? He’s a little bit Elton John, a little bit Pet Shop Boys and a whole hell of a lot of magnetic. Seriously, too, the original songs produced for Opus are bangers, though Green deftly uses them as prompts for vibe rather than excuses to slide into pointless music videos.
Edebiri is, of course, excellent. Have you ever seen her turn in a poor performance? Nope. Interestingly, her Ariel character rolls up so many archetypes—the bratty know-it-all; the impatient and impetuous child; the precocious wunderkind who could do so much if simply given the chance; the capable journalist who sees what others cannot—that it’s hard to know whether we should root for her or not at any given moment. Elsewhere, Prey star Amber Midthunder goes wild as an ostensibly helpful concierge who hovers a little too closely; and Tatanka Means (Killers of the Flower Moon) might appear only fleetingly, but his kind tone mixed with a sinister undercurrent is both chilling and magnetic.
In the end, Opus asks us to consider our starfucker tendencies and even our own strange search for fame and wealth. Perhaps those heady concepts can only ever corrupt those who wade into their orbit, but if the music and the writing are good, who the hell cares who makes ‘em, right?
OPUS
7
+Edebiri is one of the best going; Malkovich revels in weirdness
-Feels culled from bits of other movies
Violet Crown Cinema, R.
Author’s note: Though we wouldn’t usually run a movie review this late in its run, SFR recently interviewed Opus cast member Melissa Chambers about her experience.
