Lurker is one hour and 40 minutes of — as young folk would say these days — the ick.
We get that ick the moment we meet Matthew (Théodore Pellerin), a retail employee who couldn’t look any creepier. He gets the attention of Oliver (Archie Madekwe), a rising young singer who visits his shop. Matthew earns Oliver’s attention by immediately playing a Nile Rodgers song that Oliver likes, which impresses Oliver enough to invite him backstage to his show later that night. Even though Matthew says he doesn’t know much about Oliver’s music, we immediately know that this is part of a big-ass master plan to be this star’s BFF.
The first half of Lurker is wall-to-wall cringe, as Matthew slowly but surely works his way into Oliver’s predictably suspicious inner circle, pulling out an old camcorder and shooting documentary footage. Jealousy eventually erupts when Matthew’s clothes-making co-worker (Mid90s’ Sunny Suljic) tags along and wins over Ollie and the crew with his homemade fashion sense. It isn’t long before Matthew reveals to everyone the insane lengths he’ll go to just to be part of the gang.
The latest stalker psycho thriller that’s really a jet-black comedy, Lurker is basically an elevated-horror version of Entourage. TV writer turned filmmaker Alex Russell (The Bear, Beef) gives us a cautionary tale for all those celebs who think an engorged posse means they’ve officially made it. Amid all the leeches, yes men and stray hangers-on performers collect on their way to stardom, they might accidentally pick up someone like Matthew.
Even though he doesn’t pull any gross, Saltburn-esque shit, Pellerin still plays Matthew with a lanky, deranged creepiness. Right from the jump, you know this guy lost touch with the real world a long time ago. Apart from a grandmother the dude forgets about in the film’s ludicrous second half, we don’t know anything about Matthew other than his goal of getting close to a shining star. As Oliver, London actor/producer Madekwe (who also appeared in Saltburn) is petulant but vulnerable. He plays up the role of an attention-craving emo boy, and also brings that persona to the songs he performs for the soundtrack. He wants to be a new kind of pop star, but he’s surrounded by bummy-ass pals (like rapper/comic Zack Fox’s ball-busting crony) and titillating distractions. Whether he likes it or not, Oliver has found a lunatic life coach in Matthew.
Even with Russell giving us moody zoom shots that scream, “Hey A24, holla at ya boy,” we’ve seen this quasi-satirical story of extreme celebrity idolatry many times before. Maybe you saw it way back when Robert De Niro’s wannabe comic kidnapped Jerry Lewis’ talk-show host in The King of Comedy. Maybe you caught it more recently in Ingrid Goes West, wherein Aubrey Plaza’s single white female clings to Elizabeth Olsen’s L.A. influencer. Your grandparents definitely saw it when star Bette Davis and Anne Baxter famously went at it in All About Eve. Even the oh-so-obvious homoerotic subtext is nothing new. I saw it done (with far more heartbreak) when John Hurt’s lonely British writer falls for Jason Priestley’s matinee idol in the forgotten ’90s indie Love and Death on Long Island. I get the feeling Russell knows he’s not bringing anything new to the table: During a photo-shoot scene, Matthew repeatedly tells Oliver, “We’ve seen this so many times.”
Ultimately, Lurker practically makes the hella-problematic argument that artists need fewer yes men and more psychos with punchable faces in their lives. This is clearly Russell’s twisted, cynical way of showing the bat-shit depths people will go to for fame. It reminds me of when Lauren Bacall is stalked by Michael Biehn in The Fan — not to be confused with The Fan in which Wesley Snipes is stalked by Robert De Niro (again!), who gave a star-making turn as a stalker in Taxi Dri — oh never mind.
