Opus

It has the “salient themes”: celebrity worship, the media, the rise in cult-like behaviours. But this is all superficial stuff. There’s not much about Opus, really, that fully convinces.

'Opus' is a Cheeto without the Cheeto dust, so of course we feel cheeted.

The film seems like it’s trying to solve a mathematical formula for zeitgeist-grasping success, but in this empty, hollow provocation, nothing adds up.

Unfortunately, Opus isn’t able to keep up the tension of its cult-horror mystery, speeding through its reveals with a surprising laziness that feels counter to the care it initially took in building out its story.

It’s fertile ground for a satirical thriller, but Opus doesn’t probe deeply enough to say anything interesting, and what Green does have to say isn’t terribly clear. Opus isn’t as superficial as the world it’s commenting on, but it’s not cleverer, either.

Like everything else about this smug, annoying movie, the wait is in vain.

Its attempt to skewer celebrity cultists goes nowhere.

Opus frustratingly misses its biggest opportunities. A film about a group of culture commentators invited to a reclusive pop star’s compound should have been much more interesting than what is on offer here.

Opus is a word with a more significant meaning—one that reverberates with the film’s characters and somewhat cockily could describe the film itself to its writer and director, Mark Anthony Green, who also refers to himself as MAG.

The mood of the piece is exceptional, a sinister, slow-burn psychedelia which works its way under your skin.