While its films are at a lower budget and given more select releases, a new production from A24 is often treated as a project worthy of academic consideration in a way that films from Sony, Universal, or Warner Brothers aren’t. A24 isn’t a monolith; its owners simply have a good eye for the funding and acquisition of compelling features. Nonetheless, A24’s active marketing arm has established a dependable aesthetic, which has established specific expectations.
An “A24 fan” is now treated with the bemusement of a “Tarantino enthusiast” in the 1990s; they may have more knowledge of cinema than the casual viewer whose theater visits are limited to Marvel and DC, but their awareness is limited to recent history. Even if the advertising style of A24’s trailers have inspired a parody from Marvel Studios, it's unfair to judge individual filmmakers based on the decisions of their parent company. If diverse, thought-provoking mainstream releases like Challengers and The Fire Inside can be respected, despite being distributed by Jeff Bezos’ entertainment company, then critics can set aside their cynicism about an A24 logo.
Although 2025 has seen some of A24’s biggest box office hits in the form of Materialists and Warfare, the production company has shamefully abandoned titles that were greeted with less enthusiasm. The satirical thriller Opus was touted as the next event “from the studio that brought you Hereditary and The Lighthouse,” but marketing for the film diminished after underwhelming responses at the Sundance Film Festival. Sundance is often used as a launch point for up-and-coming artists, but for studio films that choose that debut to mixed reviews, it can be a death sentence.
Written and directed by former GQ Magazine contributor Mark Anthony Green, Opus is the story of the eccentric pop star Alfred Moretti (John Malkovich), whose dominance over culture and obsessive fanbase are comparable to David Bowie or Michael Jackson. While assumed in retirement after decades of silence, Moretti’s announcement of a new album inspired multiple outlets to send writers to cover its exclusive release. Stan Sullivan (Murray Bartlett) has covered Moretti’s unpredictable press tours from the beginning, but a new album has given him the possibility to connect with youthful readers that consume media in a different way. Stan’s protege, Ariel Ecton (Ayo Edebiri), is assigned to cover the event, which is also attended by other veteran members of the entertainment press.
It doesn’t take much to recognize that Moretti’s intentions are sinister, as his malicious behavior is alluded to within the head-scratching lyrics of his best-selling songs. While some may have anticipated that Opus would play out like a mystery, in the vein of The Menu or Get Out, it’s apparent what direction the film is headed from Ariel’s arrival within Moretti’s secluded compound. Given that the pop star has amassed a group of appreciators who view him as a deity, the pack of feckless journalists have found themselves in the midst of a cult ritual.
The analysis of “toxic fandom” isn’t an original topic. However, the obliviousness is the point in Opus; Ariel’s given every warning sign that she’s about to be in mortal danger. Rumors about Moretti’s alleged misbehavior are laughed off as “quirks,” as senior journalists like talk show host Clara (Juliette Lewis), the social media influencer Emily (Stephanie Suganami), the paparazzi member Bianca (Melissa Chambers), and the radio shock jock Bill (Mark Sivertsen) treat these reports as part of an accepted experience.
Opus is blatant in its examination of an “open secret,” as its more satirical edges are sanded down for the sake of realism. Perhaps the livelier tone of recent A24 horror-comedies like Heretic or MaXXXine would’ve endeared it to audiences, but perhaps Opus would have been seen as more prophetic had it been released in the wake of the Sean Combs verdict, or alongside the troubled Michael Jackson biopic set to debut within the next year. Edebiri’s ability to channel Ariel’s anxiety was the perfect way to become the audience’s avatar: viewers are forced to express the same discomfort, confusion, and frustration that she does.
Although Opus is light on humor, the greatest irony of the film is the surprisingly subdued performance from Malkovich. Anyone familiar with Dangerous Liaisons or In The Line of Fire is aware of Malkovich’s ability to ham it up, but Moretti’s framed as an artist who’s past his prime, and desperate to cling on to any semblance of relevance. The most insightful scene in Opus is a muted musical performance given by Moretti, which had been preceded by an extended dinner filled with odd menu choices and strict rules of etiquette. The fact that the fanfare of Moretti’s showcase is more elaborately constructed than his art is an indication that his brilliance has been accepted for so long that it has never been questioned.
Opus may hit close to home for those in media, particularly in an era in which studios are more willing to shill out to influencers than showcase their slates to members of the reviewing press. It’s perhaps even more telling that the negativity for Opus came out of Sundance, a festival in which many film writers compete to make exclamatory statements about what could be the next Oscar contender. The intentionally ambiguous ending may have put too much pressure on the viewer to develop their own interpretation of how far fandoms can spread their influence, but Opus is more interesting than credited, and far less derivative than its marketing would suggest.