As John Waters famously said, “life is nothing if you’re not obsessed” – and while we may assume he didn’t realise the extent to which obsession can genuinely become a problem when left unchecked, he, of all people, knows what it means to be fixated on a particular concept, or a person who best represents it. Celebrity culture has been both a blessing and a curse to society – on one hand, we are inherently creatures who seek figures to admire, whether we aspire to be these people, or simply be considered their companions. On the other hand, it has led to unhealthy relationships being formed between public figures and their supporters, which can range from invasive to outright psychopathic when taken too far. Alex Russell uses this as the impetus for Lurker, his directorial debut, which is the tale of two young men – one is Matthew, a reserved young man aspiring to do something greater, and the other is Oliver, a world-renowned pop star who is only becoming more of a global phenomenon. A chance encounter in the store where the former works (as well as some very quick thinking) brings the two into contact, which leads to Matthew gradually befriending the unexpectedly down-to-earth musician, who is pleased to invite him to join his ever-growing posse. However, Matthew’s efforts to infiltrate this entourage prove to be far more challenging than he expected, especially when he finds himself growing ever more jealous of those who surround the object of his affection, leading to some questionable choices that eventually stir some extreme tensions from which neither of them will ever be entirely able to escape. A relatively conventional psychological thriller that features the occasional diversion into something much darker and more insidious, Lurker is a film that delivers exactly what it offers, as well as a few genuine surprises that appear, often when we are least expecting it, leading to one of the year’s most enticing glimpses into the human mind, as crafted by someone whose fascination with celebrity culture and the world of worshipping public figures stands him in good stead to tackle quite an intimidating, challenging subject in terms of both concept and execution.

For about as long as we’ve allowed the concept of celebrity to exist – essentially just the act of elevating certain people from being regular citizens and positioning them on pedestals – we’ve had those who pledge an allegiance to be their loyal followers, many doing so with the intention of never wavering in their support, regardless of whatever may transpire. It’s an overly formal way to describe something as simple as fan culture, but understanding the psychology behind it helps us see precisely where Russell is going when he developed Lurker, a film built entirely around the relationship between a singer undergoing a meteoric rise to fame, and one of the countless young followers who consider themselves dyed-in-the-wool supporters, and who does everything he can to be considered his closest confidante, regardless of whatever sacrifices he has to make to ensure this happens. It’s a topic to which we can all relate, since every one of us has a few public figures – artists, politicians or even just people who exist in the public eye – who appeal to us, for various reasons. In the case of Lurker, we find two very similar characters interacting – both Matthew and Oliver are of similar age, and seem to share a few interests (although the film leaves the former’s intentions slightly more ambiguous), with the only difference between them being the veneer of fame: one is a beloved pop star, the other wasting his life away, working a menial retail job and supposedly contributing nothing to society, let alone pursuing his artistic ambitions. As the pair grow closer, they begin to see just how similar they are, which goes in both directions – Matthew has a flirtation with fame, becoming a celebrity in his own right (although being heavily eclipsed by his new friend, who will always be the main draw – this actually becomes the catalyst for the central tension in the climactic final moments), whereas Oliver begins to realise that he is not as special as he thinks he is, and that simply surrounding himself with overly supporting “yes men” is doing very little other than boosting his ego. Through this, the pair begin to notice the seams in their relationship, as well as a crack in the facade of their individual journeys, leading to a haunting game of cat-and-mouse between a beloved superstar and someone who lacks the boundaries to control what is clearly an intimidating obsession.

A film like Lurker thrives on its actors, since it could either be a radical success or die on the vine depending on the extent to which we can form a relationship with the core characters. Luckily, the director finds a strong pair in the form of Théodore Pellerin and Archie Madekwe, neither of whom are discoveries, but nonetheless prove yet again that they are massively talented young actors who embody the future of the medium. Pellerin has taken on a wide range of roles, and his versatility has always been his greatest personal merit, allowing him to not only play a number of parts but also make each one of them memorable in its own way. We do find that the role of Matthew is one of his most challenging, solely because the usually pleasant and eternally likeable actor now has to play someone who borders on despicable. He’s not necessarily a psychopathic (although he exhibits certain tendencies that lead us to believe that he could get there eventually), but as a man who is so invested in being perceived as cool, he loses all merit in the process. It’s a wonderfully complex performance from one of our most exciting young actors, who has proven time and time again that he’s someone worth watching. Madekwe is playing the polar opposite, with Oliver being established enough that he does not need to pretend, yet still carries deep insecurities that are amplified by his friendship with Matthew, whose own desire to succeed begins to cause deep tensions between the pair. Madekwe is equally as versatile, and while he does have the easier role of playing the object of the protagonist’s affections, he still brings a distinct complexity to the role that would have been needlessly bland in the hands of a lesser actor. The chemistry between the two leads is fascinating – it is never made clear whether or not Lurker is covertly a queer film, and if the obsession Matthew has with Oliver is based on the desire to him or be with him, but there is a palpable tension that both actors lean into when it comes to this very ambiguous quality that strengthens the film and makes it an even more complex exploration of the lust for fame and influence, and perhaps even the more carnal cravings felt by these two characters.

Conceptually, Lurker has many strong ideas, and it is a film that earns a lot of our attention through its willingness to have the difficult conversations. However, what we do find is that the director is leaning quite heavily on the traditions of the genre, rather than trying to be innovative. There is certainly merit in this approach, especially when there is an extensive canon of films built around similar themes that not only inspire this film narratively but also inform its aesthetic and structural approach. Obsession is not an easy topic to portray on screen, and while the actors are mostly responsible for convincing us of this particular aspect of the story, credit also needs to go to the director, who carefully and methodically pieces together a film that is as much about exploring the psychology of these characters as it is their environment. The film moves at a very deliberate pace – in some moments, its moving swiftly, leaping between moments (assisted by the dialogue, which may seem quite simple on the surface, but has a quiet complexity lingering beneath, at least in a few of the more crucial moments), whereas in others, it stops to meditate on a particular idea or image, which creates a very unique balance between the ideas embedded at the heart of the film, and the gradual unravelling of those same concepts. It’s a thrilling film that knows how to capture the audience’s attention, and while it can occasionally veer towards the derivative, this is entirely purposeful – a film like Lurker thrives on subversion, and nothing is more effective than leading us down one path before taking a wild diversion down another. It’s never too layered that we lose sight of the core meaning of the film, but it does become slightly more intimidating as the film progresses and we see just how far it is willing to go to explore certain subjects, which it does with a lot of tact and just enough complexity to pique our curiosity.

While it may not be a revolutionary film or one that is particularly innovative, Lurker is still one of the most attentive and layered films of the past few years, solely for how the director effectively captures the zeitgeist in a way that would be impossible for someone who wasn’t a keen observer of contemporary society and its many peculiarities. It’s not an overly complex film – it moves at a steady pace and does everything that we would expect from this particular brand of psychological thriller, and smartly never attempts to bite off more than it can actually feasibly chew. Instead, it focuses on the atmosphere and how the story builds to quite an intimidating crescendo, a story of a young man trying too hard to make an impression, and ultimately leading to a situation that becomes almost unbearable for him, as he realises that you can’t go through life manipulating those who surround you without making a few enemies along the way. It’s fascinating and compelling filmmaking from a director who is already showing signs of being a promising young voice in the industry. The performances are exceptional, the storytelling is polished but enigmatic (which creates an interesting dynamic), and the execution is quite strong, even when it leans into the discomfort that would otherwise weigh down any similar-themed film. It’s challenging and provocative, and dares us to look beneath the surface and assess our own relationship with the figures we idolise, creating a sense of genuine despair as it looks deep into the subject of celebrity culture, the obsession with fame, and the challenges that come when we realise how these people – those who will risk everything just to be considered adjacent to fame – will go to satisfy their perverse and troubling desires, regardless of the cost.