#REVIEW: “OPUS”

Review by Nicholas Porteous for Mr. Will Wong

Opus follows Ayo Edebiri as an aspiring Writer summoned to a mysterious promotional retreat for a legendary Pop Artist’s first album in decades. The pop artist in question? Who else but John Malkovich (as Alfred Moretti). Joining Edebiri for the ride: Juliette Lewis, Murray Bartlett, and a small coterie of Music Journalists dying to get a first impression of Moretti‘s new work. Oh, and it’s worth mentioning that during his extended time away from the spotlight, Moretti has fostered a huge cult in the middle of the Utah desert where the unveiling of the Album will take place.

High-ranking among my personal cinematic pet peeves is when in-universe Movie Art doesn’t live up to the hype and reactions of its characters. Opus plays like a feature-length adaptation of this irk. Time after time, we’re made to believe Moretti‘s music is transcendent, his poetry–bold, his performances–instantly iconic. Opus’ Screenplay expends a ton of dialogue and energy pushing his supposed brilliance on the audience because the quality of Morreti‘s Art is the only thing that can justify his cult compound. The glaringly obvious truth is that none of Opus‘ original songs come close to inciting this kind of devotion, Moretti‘s performances are more head-scratching than anything else, and the cult life is even less inspiring. Want to spend the day alone in a small room, shucking hundreds of oysters? How about a nice lunch where everyone must take a bite out of a gross loaf of bread? Enjoy grooming the unsuspecting guests’ pubic hair? Writer-Director Mark Anthony Green completely misses the fundamental building block of any cult (and pop song)–a hook. Any of this weird, ritualistic behaviour has to start with something undeniably alluring, drawing a person under its spell before they have a chance to realize how poisonous the culture really is. Instead, it’s never clear why anyone would spend a single afternoon–let alone years–on this lame campout.

Opus manages to squander its excellent Cast, misplaying their many strengths. Edebiri‘s specialty is mining awkwardness–particularly from her dialogue, and Malkovich has found a way to extract an extra syllable from every word he utters. Putting them side by side makes their scenes together feel ten times longer than they should. Malkovich is also unfairly saddled with embodying a hyper-performative Pop Star in the vein of Lady Gaga or Prince. His naturally contemplative tone is a total mismatch. Meanwhile Murray Bartlett, a master of cumbersome subtext, has nothing to do but sell his straightforward enthusiasm for the album, and his complete lack of apprehension about the obviously nutty population surrounding him. When a random child causes him a life-threatening injury, he’s all too happy to dust himself off and move on as though nothing has happened. Juliette Lewis, hot off Yellowjackets, could have absolutely convinced me as an aging Pop Star. She’s always been effortlessly edgy and rebellious. Instead, she’s doing basically the same thing as Bartlett with a little less screen time.

As a cinematic experience, Opus is tricky to classify, but that’s only because it superficially mingles with a range of genres and fails to succeed in any one of them. It’s not a disturbing Cult Movie because there’s nothing remotely appealing about the lifestyle. It flops as a Horror film because the scares are shoved into our faces rather than earned. It’s a largely laughless Comedy, and it’s nowhere near the damning criticism of fame, pop icons, or celebrity culture it aspires to be–because there’s nothing to worship. There is a shadow of a good idea in the connection between Pop Stars and cults. I’ve no doubt Jared Leto‘s mysterious Croatian retreat at least partially inspired Opus, and we’re certainly living in a world turned upside down by blind devotion to an unhinged celebrity. But beyond that vague and not-exactly-cutting-edge thesis, Opus isn’t bringing anything to the table worth chewing on.

VVS Films release OPUS March 14, 2025.