Opus

Fame is a god, and its fandom are the faithful. But what happens when devotion curdles into something sinister?

With so many recent films delving into musicians, cults, and concert tragedies, are they reflecting our world—or revealing what’s long lurked beneath it?

"Opus," the feature debut of director Mark Anthony Green, wades deep into these murky waters, delivering a psychological-horror-drama that is both unsettling and strangely familiar.

The film’s horror creeps in like a slow, hypnotic trance—before snapping its jaws shut. Uncanny imagery, eerie soundscapes, and the sheer presence of Moretti turn admiration into dread.

At the center of "Opus" is Alfred Moretti, a ’90s pop icon draped almost religiously in blue—a color tied to wisdom, trust, and creativity. But in this context, his signature blue tunic becomes a twisted disguise for something far more disturbing. 

Moretti is not just a washed-up musician seeking relevance; he is a self-proclaimed prophet, using his fanatical following as vessels for something greater, darker. He doesn’t just hold power—he intoxicates, infects, and consumes those who worship him.

The film’s use of color is one of its strongest aspects. Beyond the dominance of Moretti’s blue, "Opus" employs bursts of red and yellow—the other primary colors—amplifying energy, urgency, and psychological manipulation. 

These hues, often associated with branding and emotional stimulation, serve as subtle cues of brainwashing tactics at play. This visual storytelling, paired with unsettling horror elements, makes for a fascinating study in how the film communicates its themes beyond dialogue.

Yet, despite its striking imagery and eerie premise, "Opus" teeters between brilliance and chaos, often unraveling just as it seems to find its rhythm.

However, its core message remains potent: when artists are placed on a pedestal of near-religious idolatry, they can transform into something monstrous—feeding their delusions of grandeur and using their influence to manipulate the masses.

Did I like "Opus?" Not exactly. Would I recommend it? That depends. If you’re drawn to films that spark debate and challenge perception, it’s worth the watch—if only to dissect its themes and chase the hidden details scattered throughout.

And if there’s one reason to watch, it’s for the performances. John Malkovich and Juliette Lewis deliver phenomenal turns, embodying the film’s unsettling atmosphere with an intensity that lingers long after the credits roll.

"Opus" is an experience—you won’t walk away untouched. Whether you leave mesmerized or maddened is another question entirely. But one thing is certain: you’ll feel like you’ve just escaped something dangerous.