Review of 'Lurker': Estagram's stalking leads to a paranoid power struggle

“Lurker” is a drama of teeth that insists that there is more tension in the entourage of a soft hipster than a king. At least imperial courtiers trust strict codes on adequate requirements and titles. The rules of time with the British Emo-pop musician, based in the Oliver (Archie Madekwe) are vague and tense. An impulsive lovely with a baby face in the popularity of Instagram to the conventional icon, Oliver is not that Rich or that famous (still), but is already surrounded by friends-employed that fiercely protect their fief and access to him. Oliver thrives in vibrations, brother, and these are cutlamanos.

The filmmaker for the first time, Alex Russell, takes us to the orbit of this star through an employee of Calle Melrose Clothing called Matthew (Théodore Pellerin). Gawky's boy is an obsessive Oliver. But it is intelligent enough to hide it, shouting to his hero to give him a pass behind the stage. (Here, it is an insult to be called a fanatic). Upon entering the Green Sala, Matthew is novel by the friends of Oliver Swett and Bowen (Zack Fox and Wale Onayemi, both inscrutable, fun and scary), who order the strange nervous to lower his pants as a tribute to his dead house. He passes that test. There will be more to come.

Russell sharpened his knives as a writer and producer in “The Bear” and “Beef”. He makes shady comedies on the threads with shiv -shaped jokes that make pain sation. Advised that it becomes useful, Matthew is quickly promoted from Oliver's unofficial dishwasher to its unofficial documentary director. Same fast, he makes enemies with the something more official music video of Oliver, Noah (Daniel Zolghadri), who tries to give Matthew the Royal Repcher-off, as in “we appreciate his help, but …” and then condescendingly calls him his “sous-chef”.

While Matthew finds out when his friend, Jamie (Sunny Suljic), pretends his own party invitation, anyone who gets his claws in Oliver attacks his rivals. “Lurker” is a too passive title for this competition story. “Cinger” or “Leecher” would be more appropriate.

Oliver presents himself as all sunny and windy love, wearing a truck driver on a babushka on bleached pink hair. Costume designer Megan Gray attacks the 6'5 “sweaters in sweaters who exaggerate her eagerness to attract people for a long-standing hug. The one who observed the evil.

Madekwe played a more obviously cruel guardian in “Saltburn” as Jacob Elordi's US Snotty cousin, but still has all the keys. In the scenes where Madekwe turns off the warmth of his character, the film makes 30 degrees colder (and his most chilling artificial PEP). Meanwhile, Pellerin's smiles and forced guides show how much effort is needed to act effortlessly. In its most indifferent form, it is making an oliver impression.

“Lurker” has a casual malevolence, Russell is clarified to his goals before attacking. Stress proves our pity and dirty by Matthew and, beyond that, the weak of the culture of modern fame and its false inspiring topics of brightness-you-you -it. In a little hilarious, one of Matthew's own fans stops him on the street to talk: “I want to be like you, but what are you doing??“

What Russell really seems to be asking is to separate a real artist from a false? If “Lurker” had become a generation, he would have drawn a line along the limit of authenticity: is Oliver sincere about his vulnerable hymns? Today, that question is past. We now recognize the pressure to forge a brand, even if that brand is a claim not to worry about the image of one.

At this point in his career, Oliver likes to frame himself as vertiginous, low fidelity and spontaneous. He loves self -clat videos in a garbage can, spraying on a beach, breaking around a field with a retro camcorder tied to a sheep. “Am I stumbling or is this sick?” Oliver asks about the images of the farm. Since your group will not admit the truth, I will do it: it stinks.

Oliver's charisma is his own trap. A cradle of itself, men limits how big it can grow. The film's image approach does not give him much to explore what motivates Oliver as an artist. There are several interpretation scenes that show Madekwe's ability to sing in a convincing and modern commitment but little commitment to his real music. You feel that Russell has more confidence to dissect the qualities of a good steak sandwich than a good song.

My impression of the melodies is that Kenny Beats (which had a hand in all and also the bright and bright electronic score) has written the aid to be decent but not dynamite. The way in which a singer jumps in quality is as mysterious as trying to define well. Only towards the end of the film, Russell makes fun of the question that we have also forgotten to do: does anyone care if Oliver is a genuine talent?

Despite her thorny psychology, “Lurker” awakens his characters of everything but a piece of background history. We are aware that Matthew lives with his grandmother, but we don't know why and we don't even know his name. That firmness gives the film the immediacy at the time of a nature document on a shark and a swarm of reestions. Russell insists that we make our own diagnosis about what drives Matthew and Oliver applause hunger, and if its symbiotic dynamics have echoes throughout the music industry.

Twice, Russell indicates the R&B classic “I am your puppet”, which is once too much for my taste. We are already concentrating on who is pulling the strings. In other places, there are times when I would like Russell himself not playing things so casually. It is so intelligent when noticing the details, small looks, uncomfortable smiles, which is a hinge in the head when it darkens a point of the important plot under the hurried edition and the cryptic dialogue. It is a key sequence in the script, but we cannot control whether it is a horrible luck or a six -dimensional chess game. Distinction matters.

Even so, Russell has captured us with this story of a pawn trying to capture a king. We feel for both of us. And we understand why castles have graves.