‘Opus’ review: bizarre but funky pop star thriller

There probably won’t be a better bit of casting this year than John Malkovich in Opus. The gruesome new A24 horror-thriller – although that description hardly sums up this bananas tale of maniacal egoism – sees the 71-year-old Oscar nominee play musical genius Alfred Moretti. The ‘90s icon was right up there with Bowie and Prince but, after releasing 38 chart-topping singles, Moretti went quiet. For 27 years there were no interviews, public appearances or new music.

Opus begins with Moretti’s long-term publicist (an oily Tony Hale) announcing that “the wizard of wiggle” is back with his eighteenth album ‘Caesar’s Request’. Better yet, six lucky media folk are invited to his secluded Utah ranch for an exclusive listening party. Among them, Stan Sullivan (The White Lotus’ Murray Bartlett), editor of an influential music magazine, and – somewhat surprisingly – his rookie reporter Ariel Ecton (The Bear’s Ayo Edebiri).

Ferried to his compound via a luxury coach named ‘The Debutante’, Ariel and Stan are joined by an intriguing line-up: paparazzi photographer Bianca Tyson (Melissa Chambers), gossip TV host Clara Armstrong (Juliette Lewis), social media influencer Emily Katz (Stephanie Suganami) and Bill Lotto (Mark Sivertsen), a critic who previously had beef with Moretti. Seemingly all is now forgiven with Moretti acting like the perfect host when they arrive, wining and dining his guests with a lavish dinner.

Ariel soon gets the willies though. Maybe it’s because they were made to hand over their phones on arrival or that guests are required to undergo a ritualistic shaving of their genitals (no, really). Perhaps it’s the weird-looking helpers, all dressed in indigo-blue, who seem to do Moretti’s bidding without question, including furiously shucking oysters in search of valuable pearls despite the frequent cuts that come with the gruelling task. Edebiri is a steady presence amid the madness – her character gradually proving she is not the middle-of-the-road nobody a friend accuses her of in the opening scene.

The plot does veer off the rails somewhat in the final act, as the all-too-obvious starts happening and blood is shed. But it’s impossible to resist Malkovich as Moretti, particularly when he’s gyrating his hips while wearing a golden space suit and performing one of his new tracks to the captive audience. With brilliantly funky tracks (especially ‘Dina, Simone’) supplied by Chic legend Nile Rodgers and The-Dream, he’s clearly lost none of his genius. Dialling up the weirdness,  there’s also a puppet show devoted to the “tragedy” of singer Billie Holiday.

Yes, Opus is a strange film, one that channels a similar vibe to Ari Aster’s 2019’s cult classic Midsommar, even if it’s not quite as chilling. Here, the targets are more media-centric – with debut writer-director Mark Anthony Green (a former GQ editor who spent years interviewing celebrities) exploring the insane egos of mega pop stars, the sycophants that enable them and our own fascination with the famous. Opus is as off-kilter as they come. Perfectly suited, then, to a man like Malkovich.