Ariel Ecton is a frustrated young journalist.
I mean, yeah, she’s a very young writer who has the opportunity to work at a culture and music mag that’s still actually published! And that’s a big positive. But she feels like she’s ignored at every turn. Her ideas are handed off to senior writers. And her editor and boss, Stan, tends to get all the glory if any of those suggestions grab the public’s attention.
But then something unexpected happens.
You see, there was a rumor swirling about that the eminently famous and utterly reclusive musician Moretti was going to put out a new album. He was the small-g god of pop music in the ‘90s. Everyone knows his tunes better than they know their own reflections. But it’s been 30 years!
Even Stan dismisses rumors that Moretti will show up again.
But then Moretti’s long-time publicist announces a new album release via YouTube. And he declares that there will be a very exclusive release party at Morretti’s Utah compound. Only six people from the industry will be invited.
Stan turns out to be one of them. Television star Clara Armstrong gets the nod, too; so does veteran photog Bianca Tyson; former Moretti colleague Bill Lotto (who’s moved to the podcast world); and a beautiful social influencer named Emily. Number six on that list turns out to be the completely unknown … Ariel Ecton!
How did that happen? Who knows? But Stan quickly makes it clear that he will be writing anything and everything that comes out of the trip. However, he’s happy to have Ariel tag along and take notes on the sideline.
And that’s pretty much exactly what happens.
When they arrive at the compound—populated by hundreds of uniformed “followers”—Moretti sweeps in like a king with his sycophantic subjects. He greets the guests with his ring hand extended, but bypasses Ariel. Even during dinner the first night, Ariel gets shunted aside to what amounts to the kids’ table.
Here’s the thing, though, Ariel actually read the books and materials that Moretti’s staff sent along with the invitations. And she’s taken the time to talk to the commune followers, rather than simply fawn over Moretti like Stan and the others. She’s quietly observed people’s activities and jotted down notes. And all of that is starting to give her an unsettling vibe.
Could it be that this gathering isn’t just some publicity stunt? Is it possible that there’s something foul about this gathering? The music people gathered all have some not-so-pleasant history with Moretti from the past, after all. All, that is, except for Ariel.
And if there is something evil woven into this bowing and scraping event, then why is she here?
You don’t need an investigative journalist’s instincts to know that Ariel’s life is probably about to change.
There’s not much to say in this category other than to note that Ariel tries to make what she believes to be the right and lawful choice, despite being thoroughly manipulated along the way.
One of the books that Moretti wrote in the past focused on a new religion. He and his fellow commune dwellers call themselves Levelists. He talks in broad, esoteric terms to Ariel about the faith, calling it “the one and only holistic path to prevent the destruction of mankind.” He also mentions some practices of other religions, such as the Catholic practice of “drinking the blood of Christ” in services.
In fact, Moretti’s group practices a twisted version of breaking bread: Participants pass a small loaf of bread among hundreds of people, each taking a slobbery bite.
Moretti also speaks of creative people becoming godlike through their creations. In that way, his Levelist faith asserts, all men can, at least temporarily, become gods.
Moretti also talks about the changing state of mankind in relation to Darwin’s theory of evolution.
[Spoiler Warning] We later learn that Moretti’s actions—from his 30-year hiatus from music, to the communal nature of his followers, to the new album release—were all in service of a new religion that he plans to spread around the world.
At first, Ariel believes his group to be a murderous and suicidal cult. But Moretti points out that the scandals and other horrific things were all used to grab the public’s attention. In fact, he reveals the Ariel was manipulated into unwittingly becoming a key catalyst in that movement.
We see a photo of a naked male crotch covered by a codpiece, and later a naked Moretti doll dressed only in a codpiece. In the montage of people singing Moretti’s music, one woman displays ample amounts of cleavage and another woman dances feverishly with no apparent undergarments.
We’re shown a picture of a younger Moretti embracing a former celebrity lover (both fully dressed). The singer tells a joke that mentions the genitalia of a mosquito. He also recites a poem that speaks of a male “bulge.” A man gets a massage, and he’s unclothed except for a towel draped over his backside.
Part of the experience for Moretti’s compound guests is a “fashioning” where fashion experts dress and manicure each of the visitors. The woman working with Ariel reveals that also include an obligatory pruning of her “lady garden.” We watch Ariel’s feet as her pubic hair is trimmed by the woman and falls to the ground.
We see a number of different people (including Moretti) dance about with gyrating and thrusting hip movements. While singing a song and dancing, Moretti also caresses and kisses a woman.
Part of the Levelist faith is the practice of prying open oysters with a knife to search for pearls. We see one practitioner give himself a deep gash on his hand. Other “believers” sport healed scars. A woman is attacked and knocked unconscious (offscreen).
One of Moretti’s guests is pinned down during a massage by several large men. We then hear a small saw motor winding up as he begins to scream (we see a close-up of his face). Later we see his severed head mounted on a wall and his headless body bleeding out on the floor.
A woman is given a drug that makes her choke and gag. Later, she claws her way out of a bean bag she’s been sewn into, her face swollen and distorted. Were’s told that the drug causes all her internal organs to distend and swell. Her tongue, in fact, is hugely bloated and as she’s choking to death on it, someone touches her grotesquely distended eyelid and it explodes.
A man is shot in the shoulder with a razor-like arrow. He’s stabbed repeatedly by a large knife. A woman is dragged by her hair, and her scalp rips away. Someone is set on fire: He writhes on the ground, covered in flame. A woman’s throat is slashed open, and she bleeds out. Someone smashes face-first through a window, slashing his face and leaving him with bloody wounds.
People get slammed onto crumbling tables and thumped around. One guy is hit in the throat by a woman with sharp nails, we see him fall writhing to the ground. Barbed wire leaves a gash on a woman’s hand. Five dead bodies are sewn up in fabric body bags.
Opus’ dialogue is spattered with more than 20 f-words and a half-dozen uses of the s-word. Other foul exclamations include uses of “a–.” “a–hole,” and several misuses of God’s and Jesus’ names (including one blending of God with “d–n”).
Stan and Clara smoke cigarettes repeatedly. And we see most of the guests drinking glasses of Scotch. (Several of them appear rather inebriated.) Someone is given a drug that eventually kills that person.
A “children’s’” puppet show depicts reporters interviewing singer Billie Holiday as she leaves prison. They ask about her illicit drug use. The Billie puppet blows smoke as it talks.
A large group of people communally drink glasses of champagne. Ariel believes that many in their number are actually drinking cyanide.
All of Moretti’s guests are secretly videoed in their bedrooms and bathrooms. At dinner, when the communal bread gets to Ariel, what’s left of it is coated in other people’s saliva.
Early on in Opus, our overlooked-but-determined young culture writer, Ariel, talks about her three-step plan to make her mark: She’ll write about “fascinating” famous people, she declares. Everyone will see that she’s fascinating, too. And that trait will eventually give her the ability to write anything she pleases.
After hearing this plan, Ariel’s bestie wonders, what then? What’s her end goal? What does she want to write for? He also reminds her that her opinions are decidedly “middle,” and not actually fascinating in the least.
This brief discussion opens us to the movie’s suggestion that everyone in today’s social networking world is thinking about how to market themselves as a brand. No matter how tepid or bland our offerings, it’s the brand that counts, the movie says. A brand can lead to appreciation, then adoration, then even worship if you play your manipulation of the completely vapid masses properly.
And that’s the moral at the core of this odd little film, a story that’s one part goopy horror pic, another part social and religious commentary. At first, Opus feels like some kind of quirky satire about our obsession with celebrity. But then the story dances its way into the realm of faith.
How does a cult become a religion, it asks? When does adoration become worship? Are the important elements of faith all just properly timed and suitably publicized manipulations? Are we the unwitting victims?
Those dramatic queries make for a somewhat interesting movie concept. But much like Ariel’s middle opinions, the resulting tale is far from fascinating. And since the other half of this pic is made up of bloody stabbings, vengeful beheadings and swollen eyeball-popping gore, it’s not a pleasant movie to watch, either.
After spending more than two decades touring, directing, writing and producing for Christian theater and radio (most recently for Adventures in Odyssey, which he still contributes to), Bob joined the Plugged In staff to help us focus more heavily on video games. He is also one of our primary movie reviewers.
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