Formerly Known As Cinema

When I was younger, I was invited into the center of a celebrity entourage. At first I resisted the call, mostly because my pride wouldn’t allow me to admit how badly I wanted to belong, but eventually the gravitational pull of fame won out and I threw myself into it completely.

The posse consisted of longtime friends, obvious hangers-on, and a constantly shifting social hierarchy built around proximity to a famous person whose approval was dispensed like cat treats, and whose displeasure could descend abruptly over the smallest imagined slight.

Gauging the correct level of sycophancy became a constant puzzle, as did navigating the waters of the entourage itself. I arrived late to the party, which meant being viewed with immediate suspicion by those who had already secured their place in the orbit.

It was exciting, confusing, and, in retrospect, strangely narcotizing. As doors opened and ordinary rules stopped applying, I gradually lost whatever sense of purpose I’d had, putting my own ambitions on hold while I basked in the reflective glow of someone else’s fame.

Which is why “Lurker,” Alex Russell’s sharp, queasy debut thriller about access, status, and emotional dependency, got under my skin almost immediately.

Archie Madekwe (“Saltburn”) plays Oliver, a single-named alt-R&B singer-songwriter on the rise who walks into a hip Melrose clothing store and is instantly surrounded by a swarm of photo-snapping fans. Everyone except Matthew (Théodore Pellerin), a sales clerk savvy enough to realize that taste is more seductive than fandom.

Instead of asking for a selfie, Matthew scrolls through his phone and slips a track onto the sound system. Oliver hears it, asks who the DJ is, and an instant rapport takes shape. (If you’ve ever fantasized about playing the perfect song at precisely the right moment, and having your taste instantly recognized and rewarded, this sequence will tickle your little heartstrings.)

Matthew cements his position by casually asking Oliver if he “makes music,” performing the rarest gesture imaginable around celebrity: indifference, a maneuver that gets him invited into the fold.

It’s awkward at first — the posse’s self-appointed gatekeepers haze him mercilessly — but Matthew somehow manages to turn each potential landmine into an opportunity to ingratiate himself further. And before long, he’s functioning as Oliver’s unofficial videographer and being promised the chance to design the cover of the singer’s next album.

But status only feels real once it’s shared, so Matthew returns to the clothing store to flaunt his newfound importance in front of his former co-worker Jamie (Sunny Suljic). After all, what good is standing near fame if you can’t lord it over your friends — a need for validation that ultimately proves disastrous.

Having worked as a co-producer on “The Bear,” writer/director Russell clearly understands the warped dynamics of professional “families,” and the film initially establishes itself as a workplace drama, mapping the hierarchy of assistants, collaborators, and toadies clinging to Oliver like fungal growth, each one competing for approval and survival.

Russell’s dialogue carries the unmistakable ring of direct experience, clearly revealing every step of this particular dance: the calibration of effective flattery, the value of making yourself indispensable, and the disaster that follows when you overplay your hand.

Photo Courtesy of MUBI

And Pellerin’s Matthew proves the perfect guide through this heady world. Both charming and deeply off-putting, he inspires equal parts sympathy and cringe as he divulges his neediness one moment, then accidentally discovers some new way of seducing the fickle Oliver into pulling him closer the next. Before long he starts mistaking reflected importance for actual talent, confusing closeness to art with artistry itself.

In many ways, “Lurker” plays like a brokenhearted love story — the kind where one person holds all the power while the other hangs on desperately, waiting for affection and trust that never fully arrives. So when Matthew’s craven need for acknowledgment upsets the delicate master-servant balance, his sudden banishment from Oliver’s world becomes more than he can bear.

It’s here that “Lurker” mutates into the creepy thriller promised by its title, as Matthew — suddenly cut off like a jilted boyfriend — implements a disturbing plan to force his way back into Oliver’s orbit.

What makes “Lurker” especially unsettling is that Russell refuses to reduce Matthew to a simple parasite. Without revealing too much, the film gradually evolves into a darker meditation on the artistic process itself, suggesting that endless affirmation and carefully managed entourages may be the very things keeping artists stagnant.

Russell understands that genuine creative growth often arrives through discomfort, confrontation, and the intrusion of difficult people capable of cutting through layers of self-mythology and complacency. It’s a risky idea, but one that gives the film a strange, lingering authenticity.

In today’s culture of constant inundation and overwhelm, it’s easy to confuse reflected importance with an actual life. Once I realized I was helpless against the pull of celebrity — and staring down a future as a side character in someone else’s movie — I staged my own primitive version of a crash-out video, burned the only bridge that mattered, and free-fell back into reality.

In “Lurker,” Matthew chooses a different path, one that ultimately forces Russell’s uncomfortable ideas about art, validation, and creative dependency to their logical conclusion.

STREAMING ON HBO MAX