‘Lurker’ Review: A Sharp, Unsettling Look at the Star–Fan Dynamic (MUBI)

The fandom. That strange, amorphous creature that has grown more volatile in the age of social media, where aspirational devotion—wanting to be close to celebrities, to enter the “inner circle,” to belong, to be admired and envied by those “watching from the outside”—feeds on itself. It’s a tricky subject, one that stretches from earnest, sensitive admiration to the far edge of mental-health concerns. Lurker wades into that uncomfortable territory with something close to stealth. Alex Russell’s film offers little comfort about any of this. It’s a blend of personal drama and psychological thriller that pushes the star-fan dynamic to its breaking point. Nothing good, it suggests, can come out of that relationship.

Matthew (Théodore Pellerin) works at a vaguely hipster clothing shop in Los Angeles. One day, Oliver (Archie Madekwe)—a pop megastar—walks in to browse. Pretending not to recognize him (for people like Matthew, the performance of indifference is essential), he puts on a Nile Rodgers track he knows Oliver likes. A quick chat about music, a little “you get me” vibe, an invite to a show… and suddenly Matthew is part of Oliver’s inner circle. Online, that marks him as chosen. His follower count spikes; strangers stop him on the street. What no one sees is that inside Oliver’s world he’s disposable—mocked, patronized, and occasionally humiliated.

At first, Matthew is washing dishes and setting the table for Oliver and his clique. But he’s sharp, talented, and willing to sacrifice. Slowly, he works his way in as a visual artist—taking photos, shooting videos, quietly edging out the person who used to do that job. Everything seems to be falling into place according to his own value system… until someone new enters the picture and steals a bit of his spotlight. The fragile scaffolding of Matthew’s sudden micro-fame starts to shake. And let’s just say he does not take kindly to being eased aside. When the entourage travels to London, things escalate fast—and not in a good way.

Russell (one of the writers of The Bear) understands something essential about fandom: that mix of admiration and yearning that can curdle into something strange, even dangerous, especially for someone who has trouble navigating the boundaries the system imposes—often cruelly. In Lurker, Matthew is not merely a predator and Oliver not simply a helpless victim. The film plays with a more tangled attraction-and-rejection loop, one fueled by the star’s own need to be adored. Fame, Russell suggests, produces its own ecosystem of vulnerabilities, games, and mutual exploitation. Two-thirds of the film thrive on these subtle daily microaggressions—the star who toys with the feelings of fans-turned-collaborators without quite realizing the consequences.

A pseudo-documentary style runs through the film, echoing both the casual aesthetic of indie-pop music videos and the curated intimacy of social media. Oliver is framed as one more sensitive indie-pop darling (with possible real-world inspirations), and Russell builds the movie using that “casual,” mixed-media approach. But if you pay attention, you can feel the atmosphere tightening, growing thicker and more charged by the minute, beginning to flirt with a scenario straight out of Martin Scorsese’s The King of Comedy.

Where Russell stumbles, at least in my view, is in the final turn toward a Fatal Attraction-style thriller. Once certain events lock in, the characters begin to behave less like plausible people and more like genre constructs. It’s true that this shift gives Lurker a jolt of classical suspense—there are several nerve-racking moments in the final half hour, with Matthew growing more volatile—but the film loses the unsettling realism that made the earlier sections so sharp.

Yes, extreme fandom exists. Yes, some celebrities are manipulative or casually cruel. But the movie chooses the most brutal, sensational version of that model. And once things go that far, viewers can easily detach themselves. Up to a point, many people might see pieces of themselves in Matthew’s feelings (infatuation, jealousy, the desire to be noticed). Past that point, he becomes an outlier, an exaggerated specimen even within the aspirational fan universe. And that’s when the film starts relying on more familiar thriller beats, losing at least part of what made it unique. It remains a disquieting look at fame and the strange ecosystem orbiting it. But by the end, it feels a bit more formula than it needed to be.