Shiny new things have special powers, don’t they? Something fresh inspires a jolt of excitement, while the journey of discovering it can fuel a sense of euphoria. That little rush becomes a lurker in the mind as one chases the high associated with novelty. But the sheen of a new toy eventually dulls as something shinier comes along.
The hypnotic thriller Lurker explores this dynamic of self-generated obsession as fanboy Matthew (Théodore Pellerin) becomes the newest member of an entourage with rising pop star Oliver (Saltburn’s Archie Madekwe). But the film by Alex Russell (Beef, The Bear) illustrates the danger in treating people like playthings. That dynamic, Lurker shows, blurs in the age of social media saturation and the era of “influence” that puts the fabled 15-minutes of fame into overdrive. It’s an extremely confident feature debut for Russell that has its finger on the pulse of Gen Z, and the sad reality of a generation whose only transferable skill looks to be self-promotion.
The premise is one that audiences have seen before, but, unfortunately, more likely encountered in life rather than on screen. That’s good news for Russell’s film though. Lurker rewrites Misery for the Instagram age and features authentic characters who call to mind the hangers-on, posers, and self-styled sirens whom everyone hate scrolls on the ’gram.
Lurker twists the fame monster via a strange pick-up that sets it in motion. Oliver (who’s already too famous for a last name) returns to a fashion boutique where Matthew works, and the sales team becomes giddy. Matthew feigns indifference, but casually changes the music to one of Oliver’s favourite tracks. The singer obviously notices the choice beats and compliments the DJing. But Matthew insists that he’s not familiar with Oliver or his music. He says he likes the classics, stuff that his grandma introduced him to—all things he clearly gleaned in words about Oliver splashed over the internet. Oliver likes the sense of innocence and sincerity that Matthew projects. He invites him to his next concert to check out his music. A star is born before either of them knows it.
Lurker uncomfortably and thrillingly explores our need to be liked and our increasingly greater hunger to be ‘Liked.’ Matthew quickly becomes part of Oliver’s fold. The singer enjoys the unconventional dynamic of hanging out with someone who doesn’t seem to be a die-hard fan. But that friendship manifests itself in strange requests to which Matthew all-too-eagerly complies. Oliver invites him over, but to do the dishes and take out the garbage. Matthew’s a runner, not even performing tasks worthy of an unpaid intern.
It’s clear, too, that he’s just another face in Oliver’s collection, as noted by the sympathetic eye-rolls of the singer’s assistant, Shai (Havana Rose Liu), and the hostility from the core entourage. Matthew is just a new toy in a revolving chest that allows Oliver to feel loved, adored, and appreciated. For Matthew, the feeling’s mutual. He’s just glad to be part of the crew.
But when Oliver appoints Matthew as an assistant videographer for the documentary being made about him—the fact that there’s even a documentary being made about this guy illustrates how well Lurker has its finger on the pulse of pop culture—the fan finds a way to insinuate himself closer into the fold. He fully embraces being Bing Liu in Minding the Gap mode. He uses an old camcorder to capture everyday moments of friends in hangout and chill mode. If there’s an endless sea of documentaries about “celebrities” like Oliver, there’s an ocean of untold tales about their sidekick nobodies.
Pellerin continues a string of impressive performances on the heels of Solo and Being Karl Lagerfeld with Lurker. He plays Matthew with a cool mix of wide-eyed obsessiveness and off-kilter sincerity. But he never dials the mania too high up, gamely resisting the urge to accelerate Matthew into boiled bunny mode. The connection between Matthew and Oliver is less a fatal attraction, but rather one that’s simply unhealthy.
Lurker builds its characters’ rich psychology as the tension mounts and the relationship between friends crosses new lines of intimacy. Matthew gets a thrill from seeing Oliver’s bedroom, while Oliver gets off by the sugar daddy dynamic he holds. But Lurker doesn’t fall prey into throwaway queerbaiting as the relationship becomes increasingly uncomfortable. Matthew’s interest in Oliver isn’t sexual—he doesn’t seem to have that kind of interest in anyone. Rather, he’s attracted to fame.
Matthew realises he’s made it as part of the crew when his Instagram numbers rise and people on the street recognize. Kids tell him they want to be just like him, even when they ask what it is he actually does. He fumbles the answer, afraid to admit he works in retail, and puffs up his indie film director credentials. At best, he’s B-roll videographer. Like so many purveyors of so-called influence on the social media sphere, though, he’s really an inauthentic grifter peddling other people’s success for self-gratification. And he knows it.
Self-destructiveness kicks into high gear when Matthew extorts Oliver to ensure his place in the crew. Lurker somewhat struggles here as Matthew’s threats against the singer likely wouldn’t materialise in criminal charges, but both friends know that Oliver wouldn’t survive the court of public opinion.
Lurker delivers a great twist here as Matthew’s threat opens a window not just into his warped psychology, but also Oliver’s mind. The star’s desire for affection awakens him from a creative stupor. It inspires him to write a song that asks, “What is the difference between love and obsession?” as he explores the healthy dynamic between fandom and friendship.
Madekwe opens up here as he stands before his crew, Matthew included, performing the number as paintballs assail his squeaky-white jumpsuit. While the song resembles a diss track on the surface, it reveals itself as a soul-bearing confessional when Oliver lipsyncs the number for his music video. On one level, he’s addressing bottom-feeders like Matthew. But the song reveals itself as Oliver probes the fine line between love and obsession, recognizing that Matthew’s mania feeds his cravings in their mutually vacuous quest to be liked. It’s hard not to leave Lurker feeling slightly obsessed.
