Opus poses questions about tribalism and the allure of fame

Fandom creates communities. Whether it’s for a sports team, a movie franchise, or a pop star, people form lifetime bonds over their shared love for a source of entertainment. It can rear its ugly head just as quickly when fans assume the role of protector. We’ve seen online bullying and doxing when writers criticize Taylor Swift, or fights and verbal abuse break out at Raiders games. Tribalism has a strong hold on anyone who feels the need to belong and can evoke criminal behavior from otherwise mellow, well-intentioned beings. What makes it worse? When the worshipped entity contributes to and encourages the behavior; maybe even demands it. First-time writer/director Mark Anthony Green tackles this phenomenon in the new A24 movie Opus.

Ariel (Ayo Edebiri, The Bear) is a magazine writer in her late 20’s who wants to have her breakthrough story. When her friend points out that she is lacking the life experience necessary for a gripping perspective, Ariel feels compelled to join her boss Stan (Murray Bartlett, The White Lotus) on a retreat to the compound of a former pop star, Alfred Moretti (John Malkovich, Burn After Reading), who is releasing new music. His expansive resort exists in an isolated location, over 50 miles away from civilization. Upon arriving there, Ariel notices strange behavior from the fan community that has assimilated. Combined with the removal of their communication devices, she realizes that she, Stan, and a few other professionals from the outside world may be in grave danger. Can she figure out a way to escape?

While Opus evolves into a suspenseful thriller, Mark Anthony Green takes full advantage of the comedic talents his cast possesses. For the first hour, Ayo Edebiri effectively plays the straight man in a comedy skit. Her compadres, including Stan, an entertainer named Clara Armstrong (Juliette Lewis, Yellowjackets) and social media influencer Emily (Stephanie Suganami, Something from Tiffany's) find themselves seduced by Alfred’s charisma and entertainment skills, while Ariel has her guard up from the very beginning. Several humorous moments ensue, like when a concierge tails her for a morning jog, mirroring her strides only a few steps behind. Similarly, another of Alfred’s cohorts wants to give Ariel a makeover and asks her an invasive question about her shaving habits. The humor escalates when Alfred later performs his single on stage with all the newcomers and unveils several suggestive dance moves while wearing an unorthodox costume. The camera flashes to close-ups on the surrounding fans entranced by the beat and repetitive lyrics. Even when it is evident the vibes will eventually take a sharp turn, the behavior of Alfred and his fans, met with Ariel’s skepticism, provides several big laughs.

Opus quickly approaches the point of no return, where the comedy falls away and Alfred’s fans prove themselves capable of violence. Knowing that she and the others are being surveyed full time, she sneaks away through a window to recover her phone and computer. The somewhat friendly but overbearing concierge kicks her bedroom door in to look for her and finds her missing. The aggressive act and thud of her kick marks the end of the comedic part of the film and beginning of the horror and suspense. When Ariel realizes that she will not be escorted out but will instead have to run, hide and fight, the movie shifts to a darker mood and the action ensues. This part of the film still provides a couple of laughs but also more gore and suspense. Ultimately, it feels rushed and somewhat clunky. 

Like a gymnastics routine, films are ultimately judged by their dismount. Many moviegoers will question Opus’s ending, which ironically enough seems to question us. Even if we can be observers of toxic fandom and ruminate over its effects, can we just as easily partake in it and even wish to be the object of it? Most of us want to be considered remarkable whether we are or not, meaning we can both be seduced by the fame of others and want it for ourselves. While we are all familiar with the idea of a cult in its most literal form, we readily join more subtle and assimilated versions of cults surrounding our favorite entertainers. Do we draw a line in how committed we are to them? It remains an individual choice; some of us choose different places to draw the line and others don’t draw it at all. Even when we think we have, we may jump at the chance to elevate our own status and influence others to be fanatics just the same.

Opus incorporates intentional humor into its premise better than many other like-minded films. Movies that it may bring to mind include A24 predecessor Midsommar, as well as the 1970s film The Wicker Man and its more farcical 2006 remake featuring Nicolas Cage. A more recent work tackling the same subject was the Amazon Prime Original Swarm about a fan obsessed with a modern-day pop star. Opus chooses the more literal portrayal of a cult and features a dated pop star, which highlights just how much of a grip fame can have on fans, even long after a celebrity’s heyday. It holds a mirror up to us in the same way as Swarm while placing us in an environment like Midsommar and The Wicker Man. Though it provides a few more laughs thanks to well-timed gags and a very capable cast, Opus leaves us with some food for thought as well.