To be an artist is to have an insatiable hunger for both adoration and inspiration. Inspiration is the fuel from which art is created, but the well runs dry. If not from inspiration, admiration serves like an intoxicating liquor that will lead you down a particular path. The pitfall arises from being unable to develop your palette to distinguish between the two. Next thing you know, a wolf in sheep’s clothing under the guise of devoted fandom has already ransacked the barn and livestock you call a budding career.
Alex Russell’s directorial debut, “Lurker,” gives a prime example of a young admirer acting as the fox in the hen house for a young, up-and-coming pop star. It would have been easy for Russell to retrace steps and explain the dangers of unchecked devotion. But this film manages to flip the switch and display the reciprocal mechanism, showing how the spotlight acts like a snake charmer to the forlorn, and then a parasite, jumping from host to host.
I have always wondered how musicians or any famous people feel about the totality of “stans.” Imagine having a ready-made stable of people ready to take up the mantle for you and hang on your every word - often fans you’ll never even meet. It must be a powerful feeling to be the conductor of a choir unified together to sing your gospel. This is all a result of the brave decision to share your gift with the world and have people resonate with it. But what happens when the unity breaks and a person decides not to sing your song anymore? Or better yet, figure out that you don’t have a handle on your formula? All it takes is one bad song or project for the tide to turn.
Matthew (Théodore Pellerin) is a young 20-something working at a trendy Los Angeles clothing boutique. There’s not too much background about him, but the malaise in his eyes tells a story of somebody wanting anything other than monotony. On that particular day, on-the-rise pop star Oliver (Archie Madekwe) comes into the store. At first, he’s bumrushed by a fan looking to take a picture. “It’s okay, you can ask,” Oliver remarks to her.
Matthew can’t approach Oliver like that, and he’s certainly not going to let this opportunity slip by. That’s when he hooks his phone to the aux cord and starts playing Nile Rodgers “My Love Song For You.” It happens to be one of Oliver’s favorite songs - an attention to detail making Matthew stand out from the conventional “can I get a selfie to post on Instagram” inquiries Oliver is used to getting.
That attention to detail earns Matthew an invitation to Oliver’s sold-out show, complete with backstage access. Slowly, but surely, he assimilates into the group, not without some difficulties. Oliver’s buddies, Swett (Zack Fox) and Bowen (Wale Onayemi), make fun of Matthew and dismiss him as a groupie. Oliver’s manager, Shai (Havana Rose Liu), is skeptical of his presence. Whatever cool videographer/documentarian lifestyle Matthew thought he was going to have bears no fruit (at least at first). He’s resigned chiefly to cleanup duty around the group house.
However, Shai’s foreboding words of “making oneself useful” provide a pathway for Russell to offer the accidental upward mobility Matthew experiences. Russell shows an artist on the rise, cruising at an attitude that he’s not necessarily comfortable with. Oliver is chasing “something real” for his next project. Matthew is the person who hides in the plane's luggage compartment and slides into an empty seat—assimilating well enough until something breaks inside him.
That hunger in Russell’s film is for attention. It’s the prime currency in the world of “Lurker.” For Oliver, it’s to transcend whatever small room template he’s entrenched within for something greater. Matthew, at least initially, wants to rise within the ranks to become an integral part of Oliver’s creative process - but there are obstacles and graveyards of people wanting to do the same. This is aside from his own rise in popularity, which is attributed mainly to a co-sign.
When Matthew comes back to the house after the first concert, there’s a house meeting dismissing a person. Noah (Daniel Zolghadri), Oliver’s initial documenter, grows increasingly anxious as Matthew slowly takes on some of his duties. The ultimate threat arrives in the form of Jamie (Sunny Suljic), Matthew’s co-worker from the store. When he gets invited to hang out with the group, Jamie becomes intoxicated by the same fragrance of proximity that Matthew does.
But much to the credit of Pellerin’s performance, Matthew grows unstable both physically and emotionally when he feels like he’s losing grip. Russell uses some devices in “Lurker” that overtly allude to what will eventually happen - the use of “James and Bobby Purify’s “I’m Your Puppet” when roles switch comes to mind. “Lurker” also doesn’t go down in a bloody, vindictive blaze of glory like other stories of this mold. A horrific occurrence happens, but Russell restrains the potential fallout.
It’s to hone in on the fact that Oliver likes having this “Survivor”-style joust for his kingmaker sensibilities. Perhaps he's aware Matthew has some Chip Douglas, "Cable Guy" acuity that hangs onto every affirmation - "Lurker" shows that he, too, is searching for the same thing, and that becomes an issue.
In a musical world where people seek to extend their moment in the spotlight, the outer world and basic empathy become obscured. Rather, devotion becomes expendable. Russell peels back the layers of the world where the protagonists are flawed for different reasons, and the power struggle is as wobbly as the two ends of a seesaw. Matthew and Oliver want to be the stars of the show, yet the lines between who is really calling the shots are blurred to a certain degree.
Taylor Swift continues to break records and prove that she's a non-stop consumerism dream with a rather highly devoted fan base to boast. However, the discussion surrounding her recent album, "The Life of a Showgirl," ponders whether her musicianship has suffered, but there's no need to tweak the formula, as the train keeps on going.
Russell's Oliver is on a much smaller scale, but Matthew is an eerie microcosm of artist avatars and bot farms come to life. But instead of artists retreating, they can draw from the various voices, messages, and positive affirmations. While "Lurker' isn't pretending to be new in presenting its statement, it's honest. Artists and fans do a discordant dance together, and it's not always a simple motivation that's leading the steps.
