An enticing Los Angeles drama about parasocial dynamics, Lurker marks the feature debut of Beef writer and Interior Chinatown producer Alex Russell, who proves himself a director to watch. The tale of a starstruck store clerk who worms his way into a pop star’s inner circle, the Sundance hit unfolds with electric tension, courtesy of a remarkable subtlety that—for the most part—works wonders.
Théodore Pellerin plays Matthew, a lanky, quiet, ambitious cashier who we first meet during his chance encounter with up-and-coming vocalist Oliver (Archie Madekwe). The singer politely obliges his admirers while on the hunt for some boutique merch, but Matthew plays it cool from behind the counter, pretending not to be familiar with the rising star. Lingering, handheld closeups on each character unearth an uneasy mood beneath their polite façades, but the two strike up a friendship, as Oliver looks to Matthew for an honest opinion on his musical works-in-progress from an apparent outsider.
To the chagrin and jealousy of Matthew’s co-workers, he becomes the guest of honor at Oliver’s listening party that night, but the celebrity’s entourage—including his diplomatic manager Shai (Havana Rose Liu)—doesn’t take too kindly to a newcomer infiltrating their close-knit circle, and influencing their meal ticket. As the days and weeks go by, Matthew picks up odd jobs for the group, like cleaning up after them and documenting behind-the-scenes footage on a Handycam, in order to edit a hastily conceived music documentary. He’s part friend, part pushover-lackey. The group starts to realize his usefulness, even though they keep him at arm’s length—but before long, he too finds himself envious of another newcomer trying to enter Oliver’ s orbit.
Being dropped smack dab in the middle of Matthew’s dynamic with Oliver, sans any kind of setup, seems like a risky dramatic prospect, but Russell’s self-assured dramatic hand creates immediately identifiable, uncomfortably relatable dynamics through each character’s gaze. There’s an incompleteness about both leads, which their respective actors let bubble just beneath the surface, revealing hidden vulnerabilities and hints of desire for validation. In drawing us immediately into their closeups, even before they actually meet, the film creates a magnetism between them, as though they were destined to have a f*cked up relationship.
Théodore Pellerin and Archie Madekwe in “Lurker.”
Courtesy of MUBI
The more Matthew manipulates his way into Oliver’s good graces, the more Lurker approaches this aforementioned f*cked-up-ness, though ironically, its initial strengths prevent it from going full-tilt into lurid, disturbing territory. It’s a film of pure, electric intention, without any hand-holding or exposition—Russell rightly trusts his actors, who put on a clinic of subtext-driven performance—but this approach ends up knocking the movie’s drama back ever so slightly. When some details ought to be clear, like exactly what Matthew’s manipulations entail, they become unfortunately obscured by the movie’s dreamy montages. When the story ought to enter moral greys—about the allure of Matthew’s approach, or the cognitive dissonance between the harm he causes and the roundabout ways it influences (and even improves) Oliver’s artistry—Lurker falls on the wrong side of mechanical and prescriptive. Granted, this only happens for a few scenes at a time, but these problems arise when dramatic precision matters most.
Still, Lurker is a largely excellent film, and its excellence is partially owed to its aesthetic confidence. Cinematographer Pat Scola works wonderfully in tandem with Russell’s tight, uncomfortable close-ups, and creates a photographically mysterious Los Angeles, one of sun-bleached halation, as if what we’re watching were raw, un-processed celluloid strips that had been discovered in the woods. Alongside this crisp image, Scola (by way of Matthew’s camera) shoots pixelated video clips reminiscent of the early-to-mid-2000s. The technology these characters would likely own is, of course, much more advanced, but capturing Matthew’s perspective through a device of yesteryear imbues the film with a sense of Millennial nostalgia—a juvenile innocence that clashes wildly with its gloomier, more disturbing moments.
From left, Archie Madekwe as Oliver and Théodore Pellerin as Matthew in
Alex Russell’s “Lurker.”
Courtesy of MUBI
Lurker isn’t your run-of-the-mill tale of obsession and paranoia (although these traits certainly run through it). Rather, it’s about the ways in which people on either side of the celebrity divide use and discard one another, and how the era of influencers and constant social media access blurs every conceivable line. Depending on who you ask, the secretive Oliver can be a totally known commodity, while Matthew—an ostensible nobody—is a celebrity in his own right, simply by virtue of being seen and photographed around him. The modes can overlap as well, leading to a crossing of wires about who’s really in charge, and who needs whom at the end of the day.
Ultimately, Lurker is a tale of friendship, and all that it entails in the modern, social media-driven age when even authenticity can be faked. Not every viewer will end up in the unique position of being in a celebrity’s entourage, but almost everyone watching will, on some level, have experienced the fetishistic gaze that exists through the medium of a cellphone screen, wherein looking at someone can so easily be confused for them somehow seeing you in return. Russell simply blows up this experience to a cinematic scale, and turns in one of the year’s eeriest dramas in the process.
From left, Olawale Onayemi as Bowen, Zack Fox as Swett, and Havana Rose Liu as Shai.
Courtesy of MUBI