Rating: 8 out of 10.

I just want to see you succeed.

It’s all about the switch. That shift in unearned power when Matthew (Théodore Pellerin) takes control of the narrative. Because he is a ball of insecurities when he first meets his idol Oliver (Archie Madekwe) at the clothing shop where he works. Insecure yet shrewd—enough to realize the only way for this superstar musician to notice him was to be unlike every other fan gawking and taking photos. So, he feigns ignorance. He plays it cool. Aloof. Matthew turns the table so that it’s Oliver who makes the first move. It’s not a nobody begging for a seat at the table. It’s a somebody begging for a fresh perspective.

The scene ends with Matthew shaking—a mix of not believing it worked and sheer terror for having even attempted the maneuver. We wonder about what’s going to happen next now that his foot is in the door. Will he be able to still play it cool and pretend like he truly doesn’t know who Oliver is? Will he buckle under the bright lights of celebrity and make a fool out of himself? Will he be able to cultivate an honest and authentic relationship with this artist and perhaps rise to the occasion to really belong? The thing we don’t consider, however, is that writer/director Alex Russell might inexplicably answer “Yes” to all the above.

This is why Lurker is equal parts discomforting and enthralling. It’s why Matthew’s competitive nature to do whatever is necessary to maintain his foothold in Oliver’s orbit can make you cringe in second-hand embarrassment while also nodding your head at the truth his anger inevitably exposes. Because one could argue everything he does to Oliver and his entourage post power dynamic switch is exactly what they did to him. Yes, it is objectively worse considering its driven by malicious intent, but it’s not as though Matthew wasn’t a victim of coercive manipulation and infantilization first.

Everything is intentional from Oliver joking that Matthew is his “little boy” and “son” to Noah (Daniel Zolghadri) actively trying to cut Matthew out of the inner circle for his own self-preservation—things Matthew will soon do himself. It’s not the same for Swett (Zack Fox), Bowen (Olawale Onayemi), and Shai (Havana Rose Liu). The two men are old friends with Oliver and embrace their roles as mascots without greater ambitions. And she keeps the ship afloat as the sole adult providing the professionalism they couldn’t conjure themselves. Their presence is still beholden to Oliver’s whims, but they’re secure in those roles.

They also know Oliver latches onto strangers and kicks them to the curb on a daily basis. He gets distracted by a new shiny toy and then gets quickly distracted by another. So, Shai looks at Matthew with skepticism. She keeps him at arm’s length, gives him cleaning jobs, and waits to see if he’ll give up. Noah tests the waters to see if Matthew is actually a threat, deems him to be another throwaway, and works to push him aside so Oliver forgets he ever existed. They underestimate Matthew’s commitment. Because he’s not just a fanboy. This isn’t just about proximity to greatness. It’s about becoming great himself.

We can’t therefore merely dismiss Matthew as a stalker or sociopath. He is both those things, but not in the way we would presume or how Russell intentionally presents him. The insecurities that drive him to be willing to physically and psychologically sabotage those who are higher on the ladder (Noah) and those who dare to try climbing past him (Sunny Suljic’s Jamie) aren’t about access to Oliver specifically. They’re about access to the world Oliver represents. Matthew might look like he’s allowing himself to be used, but it’s really him using them. As he says towards the end of the film: “We’re all the same, but I’m better.”

This self-awareness allows Lurker to prove so unique despite its familiar machinations. Russell is using the stalker narrative to mask the fact that this is actually the story of a volatile yet evolving partnership. Think of predatory managers like the one depicted in Elvis by Tom Hanks. Matthew is the same. He simply doesn’t have the clout. Whereas you could build an entire movie around Colonel Tom Parker’s ascent through the ranks, technology and influence now make it so that rise can be accomplished overnight. Matthew doesn’t want to help Oliver’s greatness because of parasocial adoration. He truly believes he can.

It’s a chilling performance as a result. Pellerin is able to flip the switch so a smile or laugh devolves into something sinister once he realizes the people he’s laughing with are laughing at him. The more success he finds manipulating situations to his advantage, the more untouchable he believes himself to be. So, Madekwe is just as crucial to the whole because his puppet master personality is a big motivator for Matthew to escalate his plans. Just as Matthew’s insecurities hide his ambition, Oliver’s confidence hides his insecurity. They’re both little boys marking their territory, but only one is willing to turn his bark into a bite.


Archie Madekwe and Théodore Pellerin in LURKER; courtesy of MUBI.

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