“Opus,” the elevated horror thriller and directorial debut of Mark Anthony Green, follows Ariel Ecton (Ayo Edebiri), a rookie journalist selected to visit the long-dormant pop star Alfred Moretti’s (John Malkovich) isolated estate for an exclusive listening party. Released March 14, “Opus” reveals that once Ecton arrives, the listening party isn’t all that it seems to be.
Elevated horror is one of the most prevalent horror subgenres of the past decade. Shockingly brutal kills and intensely unsettling scenes are signature elements of elevated horror — elements to which the subgenre owes a lot of its popularity and social media hype. Popularized by films like “Get Out” and “Hereditary,” the subgenre has come to be associated with an air of prestige, differentiating it from popcorn horror like “The Conjuring” or “Scream.” This perception stems from its distinctive approach and subject matter, showing more restraint than the typical horror film and exploring complex psychological and societal issues.
But in recent years, the volume of elevated horror releases has increased and the novelty of the subgenre has worn off. Eerie strings, film grain and artsy camera angles can only take a movie so far; at some point, the genre has to show us something new. Unfortunately, “Opus” is not that movie.
The setup of “Opus” is certainly not unique. Similar to a plethora of elevated horror films, Ecton and a select group of media figures — including her boss Stan (Murray Bartlett) — are suspiciously invited to a weekend getaway at a remote location. They quickly discover that Moretti has amassed a cult following that calls themselves “Levelists.” The Levelists are particularly talented and creative individuals whose proclaimed purpose is to spread their artistic knowledge and recognize creative talent in others.
The movie proceeds as one might expect a movie like “Opus” to — a slow burn with sequences of escalating unsettledness and a few gruesome deaths tossed into the mix. The problem is that “Opus” is not nearly as shocking or creative as it would like you to believe. The film’s disturbing scenes are relatively tame compared to other elevated horror films, and the movie even pulls direct inspiration from “Midsommar” for a strange scene involving pubic hair. Not to mention how little substance occurs in the long periods between each unnerving sequence. “Opus” has a clear regard for the genre but does itself a disservice by encouraging comparison to what is, frankly, a much better film than itself.
An original aspect of “Opus” is its exploration of the complex relationship between the media and celebrities.
In the film, the journalists and media personalities are easily wooed by Moretti’s extravagant service and material wealth. When Stan gives in to Moretti’s bribes, dismissing the strange happenings at the event and compromising his journalistic integrity, Ecton begins to write her own secondary story. But it’s unclear whether her motives are selfless or selfish. Both parties would benefit from coverage of such a high-profile event — Moretti gains public exposure while the journalists gain respect within their field. This mirrors the real-life quandary journalists face when covering famous individuals.
The movie also pokes fun at celebrities’ bizarre personal lives.
Moretti, “Opus’” analog to an Elton John or David Bowie-esque figure, is depicted as an eccentric and attention-seeking individual, subjecting his guests to impromptu performances and odd rituals. His involvement in the Levelist cult is clearly referential to the many celebrity members of the Church of Scientology. But Moretti’s outwardly amicable appearance conceals a deep-seated resentment for the way the media has treated him. It’s no secret that the media has a long history of using invasive and demeaning tactics to report on celebrities’ personal lives. Moretti’s desire for revenge sets up the horrors that await his guests.
While these themes are well worth discussing, the ways they’re divulged in the film are not quite as interesting. “Opus” employs expository dialogue dumps and ham-fisted metaphors to make the film’s ideas obvious to the viewer, leaving little room for interpretation. This is made more insulting by the fact that the film takes on a pretentious tone, acting as if it were much more deft than it actually is. A scene involving harvesting pearls from oysters is treated with overwrought intrigue as if its meaning is not immediately obvious. “Opus” might have taken a bit too much influence from “Midsommar” but it could have learned a thing or two from that movie about subtlety.
The performances are one of the film’s few saving graces.
Malkovich is quite entertaining as Moretti, playing up the absurdity and mysticism of the megastar-like figure and even coming off as quite scary in some scenes. Edebiri is also great as Ecton, though the final girl is more of an audience conduit than an actual character. The actors bring a horror-comedy-like levity and entertainment to the film — a tone that better captures “Opus’” absurdity.
“Opus” could have been a decent satire on the state of stan culture and modern media but its reach exceeds its grasp. The film pulls from the aesthetics and atmosphere of elevated horror films but lacks the intrigue and adept social commentary that make those films so great. There are smart movies and movies that want the viewer to think they’re smart. “Opus” is the latter.
Drew Askeland is an Arts & Entertainment Staff Writer. He can be reached at daskelan@uci.edu.
Edited by Lillian Dunn and Jaheem Conley.