Casting is important. I feel like I’ve seen dozens of interviews with directors who humbly suggest that once you hire the right actors and let them do their thing, brilliance follows. It’s rare these days to see a truly rotten pairing of performer and role, but it is on display in A24’s Opus, a lousy movie in every respect, but worthy of a “what the hell were they thinking?” in its most grievous mistake—a boondoggle bit of casting with John Malkovich as the George Michael-meets-Prince-ish pop star Albert Moretti, a sensation from yesteryear planning a return to the spotlight.
Malkovich is a talented man, don’t get me wrong. But just like I can never pitch for the New York Yankees, it is absurd to suggest that he was once an international R&B sensation known as “the Wizard of Wiggle.” When “the Debutante” (another nickname for Moretti) gets his first of many dull monologues in Opus, it took me a minute to realize he didn’t remind me of any Bowie-esque superstar, but of Will Ferrell doing a bit. Nevertheless, he is surrounded by devotees who proclaim his genius, and even though the whole movie’s point is to look askance at celebrity worship, the movie itself wants you to buy in on his greatness. No sale.
The fact that Moretti’s music, new work by the usually formidable Nile Rogers and The-Dream, is totally generic doesn’t help, either. (The opening credits feature some stolen valor from Eddie Hazel and Funkadelic, too, even though “Maggot Brain” has already been used by several other movies and shows recently.)
The square-peg-in-round-hole aspect of Malkovich’s casting is, unfortunately, just one of several problems in this predictable, silly, and uninspired movie.
Opus begins in the offices of a Rolling Stone-like magazine, where young Ariel (the always charming Ayo Edebiri) is once again overlooked by her boss Stan (Murray Bartlett). The first 10 minutes of this movie are a fairly standard look at the struggles of New York media—nothing new, but at least following a pattern. Believability is shattered with the announcement that “Moretti is back” coming from Tony Hale (a funny performer) camping it up as “Soledad Yusef,” Moretti’s publicist. Hale looks like he raided the costumes at SNL and came up with a zany voice three minutes before somebody called “action.” This is indicative of the direction where the rest of this ill-formed movie is headed.
Moretti has taken a Willy Wonka approach for a weekend listening party of his long-in-development new album. Stan gets an invite, but for some reason Ariel does, too. They zip off in a private plane, then an old tour bus to a gated compound in the desert with vaguely Native American and South Asian artistic motifs. Ariel is quick to clock that something is off with Moretti’s little village of acolytes, but the others on the junket (including Juliette Lewis as an older talk-show host and Stephanie Suganami as an Instagram influencer) are just too thrilled to be there and watch John Malkovich prance around in elaborate outfits that look preposterous.
It takes a really long time and for many “oh, isn’t that strange?” things to happen for Ariel to finally throw up her hands and demand to leave—which finally leads to the violent climax we’ve been expecting for over an hour. Along the way, though, are several scenes that are meant to be either shocking or funny but just fall flat. Lots of monologues, lots of awkward pauses, lots of dead air. (Opus was written and directed by first-time filmmaker Mark Anthony Green, formerly an editor at GQ.)
One scene in particular includes Ariel waking up surprised to see a group of stylists invading her space to give her a makeover. Edebiri, so funny in Bottoms and, of course, an Emmy and Golden Globe winner for The Bear, has nothing to play off in this moment except “be confused,” and the scene flatlines. She was hurled into the deep end here with no guidance, likely on a tight schedule, and the result, I am sad to report, is cringey.
