Ayo Edebiri and John Malkovich in Celebrity Cult Horror

Ariel Ecton (Ayo Edebiri), the keen and ambitious journalist at the center of Mark Anthony Green’s sluggish feature debut Opus, is desperate for a big break. Like many young people in magazines, she gets passed over for consequential features and splashy profiles, even when the ideas come from her. So when Ariel receives an auspicious invitation from the legendary musician Alfred Moretti (John Malkovich) to preview his new album at a remote compound in Utah, she immediately accepts. The pop star, a David Bowie variant, hasn’t released music in 30 years, and covering his return is the opportunity of a lifetime. 

A steady procession of relatively mediocre black comedies have primed us for Opus. Triangle of Sadness parodied the wealthy class and their out-of-touch behaviors; The Menu gorged on monstrous culinary world personalities and the sycophants who feed them; and most recently, Blink Twice confronted the protective bubbles shielding powerful men from accountability. Despite fertile premises, these films come off more smug than revelatory. They rarely land their points and often age poorly. Green’s debut, a social satire about journalism and the cult of celebrities, has convinced me this genre is cursed. Despite solid performances from Edebiri and Malkovich, Opus never takes off. It mostly meanders, relying on leaden expository monologues to move the plot, and rarely delivers on the promised horror of its atmosphere. 

Ariel is among the seven people invited to Moretti’s compound. The group includes the budding reporter’s boss Stan (The White Lotus’ Murray Bartlett), a recognizable kind of magazine editor; Clara Armstrong (Juliette Lewis), a television personality whom Stan refers to as a “sex symbol;” Bianca Tyson (Melissa Chambers), a notorious paparazzo; Emily Katz (Stephanie Suganami), an influencer; and Bill Lotto (Mark Sivertsen), a podcaster and curiously one of Moretti’s enemies. The group meets on a tarmac somewhere in Utah (principal photography took place in New Mexico), where a member of Moretti’s staff (Peter Diseth), whom Ariel humorously notes in her notebook as “creepy greeter,” drives them four hours to their destination. 

If this set-up sounds oddly familiar, it’s because in 2018 Kanye West, who now goes by Ye, flew a group of journalists and celebrities out to a ranch in Wyoming for an album listening party. Green, who previously worked at GQ, excitedly mines the absurdity of this kind of experience, carefully detailing how Moretti runs his estate. Like Slater King with his island home in Blink Twice, the pop star staffs his ranch with locals who offer personal and incredible attentive concierge services. Guests must deposit their phones at the entrance and each evening includes a lavish dinner, served in a tasteful setting. And as in The Menu, there are cameras everywhere. 

Opus starts off on a relatively strong note, first with Green’s brief portrayal of magazine office culture and then with Ariel’s early experience at the compound. The film boasts the same sleek aesthetic as its predecessors, a choice that heightens the artifice of these scenarios. The score (composed by Danny Besi and Saunder Jurriaans) is appropriately haunting, and it’s a nice touch that Moretti’s songs are written by Nile Rodgers and The-Dream. 

During dinner on the first night, Moretti delivers a speech meant to underscore the cult leader-esque charisma telegraphed by larger-than-life celebrities. Malkovich’s subdued and convincing performance, defined by a low and drawn-out intonation, chafes against Green’s verbose screenplay. There’s a clear excitement around these ideas, but instead of trusting audiences with subtext, the director indulges in taxing exposition. The film’s pace and characters, especially Edebiri’s Ariel, suffer as a result of this approach. 

Strange occurrences happen almost immediately and Ariel, the smartest in the group, quickly takes note. The intrepid reporter carries a notebook, where she scribbles observations that contribute to most of Opus’ laughs. Edebiri, who is always a pleasure to watch, strikes a nice balance of nervous excitement and healthy skepticism, but not even the actress’ excellent comedic timing can prove a match for an unyielding screenplay. Other characters suffer a similar fate, as they, so thinly sketched, become window dressing. 

Pacing proves to be another issue in Opus. Green takes care with set-up and establishes good anticipatory dread, but doesn’t leave enough time to deliver on the horror. When the blood starts gushing and the guests start screaming, the terror of it all feels a touch too late.