Lurker

Bluesky

Move over Eve Harrington and Rupert Pupkin, we have a new fame-obsessed sociopath for the age of social media clout. Played with squirmy panache by Théodore Pellerin, Matthew – the anti-hero of Alex Russell’s Lurker – seems destined to worm his way into cineaste consciousness with a needy smile and a series of awkward proposals. The fame-hungry, cringe-inspiring young man enters the film’s narrative running, and rarely takes a break as he manipulates and sabotages those around him – as well as himself – in increasingly unpredictable fashion.

In Matthew’s mind, “fan” is a dirty word. He wants to be part of rising musician Oliver’s (Archie Madekwe) entourage – a friend, certainly, and the more he thinks about it, a collaborator. Matthew becomes part of the world at breakneck pace, and soon finds himself doing anything he can to remain within it.

At a time when streaming services ask screenwriters to telegraph a movie’s action with belabored expository dialogue, writer/director Russell possesses a refreshing economy of storytelling. He lets the audience figure things out for themselves, starting immediately during the scene in which Matthew and Oliver meet at the trendy clothing shop where Matthew works. Matthew plugs in his iPod and plays a classic song, which Oliver loves. He pretends to not be familiar with Oliver’s music, which prompts an invitation to that evening’s show, with a backstage pass. We don’t need to be explicitly told how much of this interaction has been engineered, because subtle hints get the message across.

Likewise, when Matthew first makes it to Oliver’s house, he has to wait while everyone else participates in a “house meeting” that results in someone getting the boot from the circle of friends. The message is clear: membership in Oliver’s traveling circus is tenuous and based on good behaviour. “Make yourself useful,” Oliver’s manager tells Matthew before he starts doing dishes and taking out the trash.

In line with his economic storytelling, Russell has a gift for conveying little details through subtle performance notes where other filmmakers might telegraph intent, and his cast is fully on board to aid his efforts. Madekwe plays Oliver with a mischievous sense of power. He knows everyone wants to be in his good graces, and can be seen, in glimpses, appreciating the drama that his handiwork produces. But Pellerin really gets to shine as his character struggles with the need to be loved while constantly scheming on how to earn Oliver’s good graces.

One clever recurring theme arises as Matthew’s interacts with his “fans” – people who follow his antics on social media because he’s part of Oliver’s crew. It’s not entirely clear what Matthew does besides film shit with an old video camera, but everyone approaches him with a level of respect. He must be some sort of talented creative, so their thought process goes, or he wouldn’t have hit it big with such cool people and have so many followers. As they prod him, he of course develops vocabulary to make his video-taping sound more like an art project, lest he admit to being a parasite.

Some of the turns the story takes are expected, such as Matthew becoming concerned when his friend and coworker from the clothing shop (Sunny Suljic) begins to hit it off with the entourage just as well as he does. And even as his reactions become extreme, it feels in sync with his neediness. But other events are decidedly not what you’d expect, and the film slides into those zones with an ease that suggests “of course this is where the story was going, why weren’t you expecting it?” The ensuing drama flips the narrative and brings up more questions about loneliness, art and success. These questions aren’t really answerable, especially in such a weird, funny, disturbing story. But there’s a lot to be considered during the lingering pause that they evoke.