Opus

40

There were many high school nights that began — or more likely ended — in a dark room playing the first, title track from Funakadelic’s album, Maggot Brain. Like one of those nights, Opus starts with that track and then spirals into weirdness. I have to assume they, like us, were in some sort of alternative headspace. It’s really the only explanation for this wacky film. And some of the decisions made therein. It wouldn’t be the first time a film had been made under the influence, I imagine. Or one that is meant to make the audience feel like perhaps they’re under the sway of some sort of chemical — natural or otherwise. I mostly tuned in because the concept seemed interesting, and the cast is intriguing. I enjoy Ayo Edebiri’s very specific, naturalistic acting style and was curious to see her in a starring role. So there’s that…

I must say, this one starts off rough. Not the completely disconnected Funkadelic intro, but the incredibly clumsy exposition right out of the gate. Because this is one of those films where we gather a small group of people in a single, unfamiliar setting controlled by a mysterious host and unleash hell on them. So, of course, you have to do that first scene where we introduce all the characters gathering at the isolated location. And, while this is the oldest trope in the book, there are decent ways to explain to the audience who each person is without just having a character literally explain to another character their baseball card stats. Hey, see that person? That’s Emily Katz (Stephanie Suganami and she’s a famous influencer who has X followers and she makes videos about blah blah. And, yes, you read that right, 36-year-old Stephanie Suganami is playing a character named Emily Katz, who is supposed to be this youth influencer of some sort. As a person who dated someone with a very similar name and also went to Hebrew school, this choice could certainly have some biological implications, but probably would have been better to maybe switch up the name or bio a little. Just sayin’. But, essentially, we go through the entire entourage of invited guests in this same manner, clumsily going one by one as one of the other guests whispers the person’s Wikipedia to someone in order to bring the audience into the loop. It’s not well done. Not at all.

So, the host here is a guy named Moretti (John Malkovich). He’s this enigmatic music star from the 90s who is dropping his first album in 30 years and has invited a small cadre of media type guests to come preview the album and spend some time on his secluded ranch in Utah. I’m not certain who a comp might be. Maybe a Madonna, or like if maybe Taylor Swift vanished at the height of her fame. But apparently him coming back is a big deal and he’s world famous and whatnot. His music? Oh, it’s kind of dancey garbage. But that’s one of the issues with this type of thing: the media that you have to create that is supposed to be world-changing or adored can’t possibly be as awesome as it’s characterized in the film. Even if you have Nile Rodgers and The-Dream writing the music that belongs to this Moretti fella. Personal side note: Moretti was the last name of my big brother in my fraternity. And let’s just say: the man was not… well, he wasn’t going to set the world (or the SAT) on fire. But, suffice it to say, the fact this was this famous character’s name made me chuckle. Anyhow, you know this small group is in for some bad shit. Despite Moretti just initially seeming like a weirdo, larger-than-life aging music star. And, of course, being John Malkovich.

Things is — and this should be way clearer to the characters in this film — he is also running what is an obvious cult. There are a bunch of people living on this ranch in the middle of nowhere and somehow a man who hasn’t had a record in 30 years is supporting all of them while maintaining a private jet and whatever else is going on. I do have to say it’s both amusing and also a little odd watching Malkovich parade around like some disco peacock, dancing like a creepy, arthritic weirdo. Dressed like a combo of Grace Jones and whatever outfits Devo rejected. Is he a convincing musical genius diva? Well, he’s going to always be John Malkovich, so whatever your feelings are about him will be your feelings about the character. And he is both funny and creepy in equal parts. But a global superstar? Nah, he’s way more niche. And while I’m always entertained by him, this stretches credulity a little bit. Which may or may not be intentional. But Malkovich as a cult leader? Absolutely, 100% yes. Anyhow, I’m sure this is some commentary on fame, but it seems completely unclear why these people — all of whom have some former beef or slight with this dude — don’t kind of see what’s coming. Never go to an isolated estate with a person who is clearly running a cult. Never.

There are a few other things we just have to go with. The first fact is that magazines are still a thing. They are not. But in this world Ariel Ecton (Edeberi) is a young journalist invited alongside her cocky, condescending boss, Stan Sullivan (Murray Bartlett), to witness this album unveiling. She’s earnest and dedicated to a dead profession. But her boss — alongside the other few media types invited to this event — are just fawning asshats. She is eventually the only person who can get out of her own way and see the “bigger” story is about Moretti’s dedication to this pseudo religion / lifestyle of the Levelists. Which is, again, clearly a cult. Honestly, she’s the only one who even brings it up. Because… a bunch of randoms living on this commune following weird customs and traditions, like having to have all the guests’ pubic hair shaved off, is normal. And when members of their media group start vanishing, nobody seems very concerned. Except Ariel. But only eventually. It’s all just kind of unrealistic that these savvy “reporters” and “journalists” would be this clueless and blinded by this Moretti fellow. But I suppose that’s part of the social commentary?

Anyhow, there’s a stuffed doberman that is actually not at all a doberman, Ariel somehow knows exactly how to start and expertly pilot an ATV having lived in NYC her entire life and Moretti’s whole planned twist goes of without a hitch even though there are about ten steps that coincidently have to happen perfectly for it to come off. There is also some stigmata imagery that is just dumb and a scene in a prison meeting room that contains a potted orchid for some reason? Scenes also tend to go on for too long and there are some odd audio/dubbing choices that were kind of off. All things I chalk up to a first-time filmmaker, Mark Anthony Green. Who I now see was a former journalist and editor at GQ. Which makes the whole magazines being a thing make more sense now. There is a relatively okay twist at the end of the film, but like the beginning of the film, is explained through a really clunky exposition dump delivered by Ariel. I feel like there were some good ideas here, and there were some decent elements in the high-level plot, but the execution was lacking. From its inconsistent tone — sometimes it feels like psychological horror and sometimes like a goofy pop satire — to its clumsy dialogue, the movie was an overall miss given its promising premise.