Had Opus been released a decade prior, it might have had a chance to be a decent movie. Probably not, as that conversation would have needed the film to have a single redeeming element. But by coming out in 2025 and after the likes of Get Out, Midsommar, Blink Twice, The Menu, and Don’t Worry Darling, the weight of comparison killed Opus right from the start. This is an A24 film in the derogatory sense, tailor-made to have ironic memes generated and tongue-in-cheek merchandise consumed (if it sounds like I’m venting, it’s because I am). It came as no surprise to witness three of the four other audience members at my screening immediately open Letterboxd to log this as soon as the credits started scrolling. Unfortunately for Opus, that kind of crowd has definitely seen the other mentioned movies, leaving not many green stars to be granted here.

I guess I was a little harsh when I said that this film didn’t have any redeeming elements to it. That’s not wholly true, as Ayo Edebiri and John Malkovich delivered decent enough performances to keep me in my seat. She plays Ariel Ecton, a young journalist for a major music magazine. We first see her in a pitch meeting, the rest of the room eating up her every word as she pitches a new story on some faded singer. Editor Stan Sullivan (Murray Bartlett) likes the idea but passes Ariel over and hands it off to some other writer. Fate then reaches out and extends its hand in the form of an invite for Stan, and, surprisingly, Ariel, to join the legendary and long-reclusive popstar Alfred Moretti (Malkovich) at his secluded Utah compound for an unveiling of his new studio album.

Considering her rookie status, especially when compared to all the other attendees like TV personality Clara Armstrong (Juliette Lewis) and paparazzo Bianca Tyson (Melissa Chambers), Ariel’s presence immediately stands out. It’s that sense of otherness that keeps Ariel on her toes as the weirdness of Moretti and his assembled cult followers gradually becomes too loud to ignore.

The comparisons to Midsommar and The Menu also become too loud to ignore right as Ariel and co. arrive at Moretti’s self-proclaimed slice of heaven. Because every cult member smiles all the time and speaks of having their inner selves finally unlocked, you and I both know this is all bullshit and that something sinister is about to go down.

First-time writer/director Mark Anthony Green takes his sweet time getting to the destination, littering his script with lectures on celebrity worship and the integrity of entertainment journalism. Besides already being beaten to the punch, Green never feels willing to make a fine point about any of his talking points, leaving everything in a morally muddled mess.

I assume he thought the stylization would be enough, a kind of shorthand that forces us to fill in the logic gaps. Worse than the confusion Opus incites is the fact that it never registers as interesting or sensical. What’s the point of asking questions when you never cared what the answer was to begin with?