Lurker lures you in with an opening sequence that crackles with unspoken tension.
In a trendy Los Angeles clothes boutique, one of the salesclerks, Matthew (Theodore Pellerin), perks up when rising pop star Oliver (Archie Madekwe) walks in. Matthew eyes him up as if he’s prey, then immediately swoops into action. Switching the store’s music to a Nile Rodgers song that he knows is an Oliver favorite, Matthew then feigns ignorance about the connection—and in fact claims he doesn’t know who Oliver is at all. It’s the perfect bait: Matthew at once proves his music cred, distinguishes himself from Oliver’s cloying fans, and plays to Oliver’s own insecurity. Now Oliver wants to win over Matthew, which he does by inviting him into his inner circle.
From there, writer-director Alex Russell, making his feature debut, offers a creepy, Talented Mr. Ripley-style character study that doubles as a meditation on celebrity and authenticity. (It’s a movie perfectly timed for the summer of Taylor Swift’s very public marriage engagement.) “I can tell you really do this . . . that’s really you up there,” Matthew says to Oliver after watching one of his concerts from backstage. The irony is thick, as the compliment is coming from a disingenuous poser.
Or does Matthew believe what he’s saying? As good as Pellerin is—and it’s a name-making performance of nervous, needy intensity—it’s never quite clear if Matthew is an obsessive fan, a sneaky hanger-on, or something more sinister. These possibilities especially get muddled by the third-act plot mechanics, which give Matthew the upper hand in the relationship. At a music-video shoot late in the film, Matthew arranges for pellet guns to fire at Oliver from off camera, so that Oliver authentically flinches while singing. It’s a mad-genius move that produces something truly authentic. I wish more of the film had worked this way, with Matthew as a villain who might actually have a point.
In the role of Oliver—who is something of a sociopath in his own right, considering the way he doles out praise and attention to his underlings like crumbs—Madekwe makes for a convincing Weekend-like pop figure. (Kenneth Blume, also known as Kenny Beats, composed the score and worked with a variety of artists on the sleepy-seductive, Madekwe-performed songs.) As Oliver becomes increasingly vulnerable, Madekwe’s performance becomes impressively layered.
In terms of camerawork, Russell and cinematographer Pat Scola slyly employ a handheld style that matches the behind-the-scenes documentary footage that Matthew is tasked with gathering for Oliver. And kudos to whoever found the Hollywood home that serves as Oliver’s bachelor pad, featuring a circular cutout in one of the walls of the central room. It’s a wry visual symbol for a story that’s largely about who is in and who is out.
(8/31/2025)
