Sometimes, the price of fame is a fan like Matthew in ‘Lurker’
“Lurker” — 3.5 stars
Because the planets sometimes align in curious ways, there are two indie films about male-friendship stalkers — each a success on the festival circuit — now in theaters.
“Twinless” is the cute, funny one. “Lurker” is the creepy, better one — better because beyond its immediate dramatic suspense (which is considerable), Alex Russell’s debut feature film arrives bearing uncomfortable truths about the symbiotic relationship between celebrities and hangers-on. Who needs the other the most? It’s a power dynamic in perfect balance.
Also, “Lurker” has the far more unnerving central figure in Matthew (Théodore Pellerin), a gawky, unblinking Los Angeles wraith who affixes himself to the personhood of an entourage around Oliver (Archie Madekwe) — just Oliver — a young British pop singer living in L.A. whose career is just starting to bubble up. Oliver is still approachable, though, and when he and his friends come into the upscale clothing boutique where Matthew works, the kid sneaks an obscure Nile Rodgers song onto the store’s sound system that — quelle coincidence — Oliver has been on record as liking. There’s a spark of connection, and then an invitation to one of the singer’s shows, and then a “Hey, come on over and hang in my crib.” Matthew is IN.
Or is he? “Lurker” is sharp enough to know that a famous person’s friends will always close ranks around him or her when any newcomer turns up, and Oliver’s two closest pals, Swett (Zack Fox from “Abbott Elementary”) and Bowen (Olawale Onayemi), give this awkward white boy a proper hazing on first acquaintance.
Almost despite himself, Matthew aces the test, and suddenly he’s part of the crew. Or IS he? Part of the movie’s off-kilter unease is that Matthew remains in a constant gray zone of accepting nonacceptance, and moviegoers may share his anxiety even as he gives them the willies.
Writer-director Russell, a producer and co-writer of TV’s “The Bear” and “Beef,” knows his Hollywood existentialism — the dread that you’re not anybody unless you know a Somebody, the easy California vibe that hides gnawing insecurity, the understanding that a friend today can and certainly would cut your throat tomorrow.
No one is innocent in “Lurker,” least of all Oliver, who’s a sweetie pie and a real talent (Madekwe does his own singing in the concert sequences) and also a top dog firmly in control of who’s in the doghouse at any given time. Maybe Russell overuses the 1966 James and Bobby Purify chestnut “I’m Your Puppet” on the soundtrack, but, in his defense, it could apply to anyone here.
That said, Matthew is first among manipulators, and his studied infiltration of Oliver’s life, career and social circle is observed by “Lurker” with the skin-prickling dispassion of Patricia Highsmith writing about her best boy Tom Ripley. (Fans of “All About Eve” may also see something familiar in the hero’s ingratiating smile.) Pellerin is a young Canadian actor perhaps best known to art house fans as the way-too-friendly guy on the bus in the teen abortion drama “Never Rarely Sometimes Always” — another alien trying to pass himself off as a human.
Russell’s vérité-style filming approach (Pat Scola was the cinematographer) hovers close to Matthew, and Pellerin has the knack of letting us read his character’s calculations while remaining opaque to the roadblocks (a.k.a. other people) in his path, like Oliver’s tech guru Noah (Daniel Zolghadri) or Matthew’s boutique co-worker Jamie (Sunny Suljic), both of whom make the mistake of underestimating him.
“Lurker” arguably hangs out with Oliver, Matthew and company for too long before Russell tightens the screws — indicative, perhaps, of a TV professional not yet sure of himself in the feature film format. But the twists, when they come, push the film off the ledge of realism into something darker and more eerily erotic.
Given the reins of power, Matthew proves himself a genuine sociopath — “Do you even listen to my music?” Oliver asks his tormentor. “Do you even LIKE my music?” — before “Lurker” turns itself inside out entirely in the very last scene. By then, Matthew has started attracting his own hangers-on, and the cycle begins anew — the American Dream of being seen curdled into a nightmarish hall of mirrors.
“The rest of us all want the same thing,” the lurker has told his quarry by then. “I just want it more. And I’m better.”
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Rated R for language and some sexual content. 100 minutes.