A Fascinating Study of Showbiz Obsession

What’s the difference between love and obsession? Alex Russell’s Lurker turns that question on its head, delivering a rattling character study that blurs notions of affection, envy, admiration, desperation, and control. It’s stan culture writ large against a compromised celebrity landscape, a tail-wagging-the-dog portrait of co-dependency where the punisher and punished trade authority in power-play psych-outs.

Lurker ★★★★★ (5/5 stars)
Directed by: Alex Russell
Written by: Alex Russell
Starring: Théodore Pellerin, Archie Madekwe, Zack Fox, Havana Rose Lu, Wale Onayemi, Daniel Zolghadri, Sunny Suljic
Running time: 101 mins

But first, it starts with a question. “You make music?” says the deceptively guileless store clerk Matthew (Théodore Pellerin) to rising pop star Oliver (Archie Madekwe). Minutes earlier, when he saw Oliver walk into his hipster Melrose clothing boutique, Matthew lurched across the check-out counter and jammed the store’s music jack into his phone to play a Nile Rogers deep cut called “My Love Song For You.” It’s an obscure recording and, he knows, one of Oliver’s favorites. But when the charismatic British singer comes over to compliment him on his taste, Matthew pretends like he’s never heard of Oliver.

Either genuinely impressed with Matthew’s musical taste, simply amused by the opportunity to lord his fame over the uninitiated, or both, Oliver puts his digits into Matthew’s phone and invites him to his concert that night. Matthew shows up and gets into the VIP lounge — where he is promptly ignored by everyone, including Oliver. It’s a set-up to some hazing, which lightly humiliates Matthew. And then Matthew quickly turns it around by amping up his own debasement, which shocks and impresses Oliver’s crew. He just bought himself more time with the cool kids. “Is this how you envisioned it?” says Shai (Havana Rose Liu), Oliver’s jaded handler and one of the few who sees right through Matthew.

Oliver shines just enough affection on Matthew to get him hooked on the feeling, and Matthew is very good at laying down a sly mix of low-key admiration and subtle criticism. After you-really-get-me comments from Oliver, Matthew gives him cheesy retorts like “I feel like I met you guys for a reason.”

Matthew wants to stick around, and Oliver knows it, so the musician rewards his lackey’s thirsty attention with a cruel mélange of indifference and broheim inclusion. Matthew takes it all, with relish. Shai gives him odd-job tasks around the crib, cleaning up after Oliver as well as his crew of sycophantic friends, who size up Matthew’s palpable phoniness and treat him with mild contempt.

But Matthew absorbs the emotional debasement, making himself useful by using his outdated camcorder to capture Oliver’s antics and slowly muscling in on Oliver’s in-house videographer Noah (Daniel Zolghadri). What makes the dynamic even more absorbing is that Matthew actually does have good creative instincts, and inspires Oliver as well. “This slaps,” Oliver enthuses after one of Matthew’s on-the-fly Machiavellian suggestions. “This actually goes hard.”

They’re all jockeying for Oliver’s attention in their own way, and Oliver, who left his parents in the UK as a teenager and never looked back, relishes the perpetual Lord of the Flies atmosphere he’s created. “I have a new family now,” he says to Matthew. “And I. Get to choose. Who’s in it.”

There’s an All About Eve energy to Lurker, but the invasive species of sociopath depicted here isn’t looking to replace the star. It’s something even more insidious: it’s parasitic. Once Matthew literally causes physical harm to someone in the inner circle, he gets ostracized. But he finds an even more powerful way to get back into Oliver’s orbit and tighten his grip even further. One of the film’s unofficial anthems? James & Bobby Purify’s R&B hit “I’m Your Puppet.” And it works both ways.

Unlike his writing for The Bear, Russell’s filmmaking debut is a virtuosic tale of caustic people, a fascinating evisceration of the dark tribal subculture that needy celebrities foster around themselves like a toxic cocoon. “Everyone around you is exactly the same as me,” Matthew quietly explains to a shaken Oliver. “I just want it more. And I’m better.” They’re all puppies jostling for a nipple. But Matthew is willing to bite down. Hard.

“Please don’t take it away,” Oliver pleads at one point, when he realizes he could lose everything. Matthew’s calm response is even more unsettling. “I’m here to help you,” he says. Even worse: he’s right. And the film’s trajectory of mutual debasement weirdly becomes mutually beneficial, as exploitation brings out a confessional clarity. That’s showbiz.