Théodore Pellerin and Archie Madekwe star in Lurker, a tense, max-cringe thriller about clout-chasing, obsession, and fame’s dark side.
Lurker just might be the first true blue Gen Z movie. I mean it. This flick creeps onto the screen like an opportunistic plus-one at an exclusive afterparty. It’s awkward, persistent, the ultimate form of cringe, and I couldn’t get enough. Writer-director Alex Russell has cooked up a deliriously fun social horror-comedy that’s Nightcrawler by way of Ingrid Goes West. Only with a side of Entourage-level posturing that makes you want to wash your hands after every scene.
Théodore Pellerin plays Matthew, a retail drone who clings like industrial-strength Velcro to rising music star Oliver (Archie Madekwe), infiltrating his world one desperate move at a time. He’s not just a fan, he’s Ollie’s unwitting shadow. A glitch in the matrix of celebrity. The film is an awk-thriller about fandom, ambition, and that gnawing, unsettling question: Are we obsessed with fame because we admire it? Or is what we really want secretly lurking in the corner?
Russell’s sparkling script skewers influencer culture, parasitic relationships (emphasis on Parasite), and the performative nature of modern social hierarchies. The rise-and-leech dynamic between Matthew and Oliver feels both bizarrely specific and universally chilling. It starts small: a chance meeting, a little flattery, a “bro, we should totally hang out.” We’ve all seen this play out online. Whether it’s some random dude commenting “We should collab” under every post of a micro-influencer…Or a fan who manages to sneak their way into an entourage under very suspect circumstances. But Matthew doesn’t just want proximity. He wants immersion. And that’s where things get deliciously unhinged.
Pellerin has a serious knack for generating unsettling social desperation, playing Matthew with the kind of energy that makes your spine curl. He’s not your typical movie stalker. No mustache-twirling, no overt menace. Just a guy who’s a little too good at making himself indispensable. One minute he’s hyping Oliver up at a party, the next he’s casually holding his drink, then suddenly he’s Single White Male-ing his way into Oliver’s closet.
Madekwe’s Oliver, meanwhile, is a mesmerizing mix of fragile talent and inflated self-importance. Exuding the kind of effortless cool that only comes when you have a growing Instagram following and just the right amount of industry buzz. But here’s the kicker: Oliver needs Matthew. Or at least, he doesn’t realize how much he enjoys being needed. The film plays with that tight tension between ambition and codependency, fame and isolation. How much of our social circle is built on genuine friendship, and how much is just people strategically positioning themselves? It’s the Entourage question, only here, instead of bros chasing clout, it’s a psychological tug-of-war where both parties are too far in to pull back.
And speaking of clout chasers…Oh, the supporting cast. Lurker surrounds Matthew and Oliver with a class-clown-class of chaotic lemmings, including Zack Fox (who might be this generation’s most naturally funny human), Havana Rose Liu, and Sunny Suljic. These people orbit Oliver with the same manic energy as pigeons circling a fallen French fry. There’s an almost Lord of the Flies quality to it. Who’s leading, who’s following, and who’s getting sacrificed at the altar of internet relevance?
But what really sets Lurker apart is Russell’s direction, which has the surreal, existential unease of a South Korean arthouse film. The cinematography pulls you deep into Matthew’s POV, transforming mundane interactions feel with escalating nightmares of clout-hungry awkwardness. Without spoilers, let’s just say that Lurker doesn’t slow burn its way to an ending…It detonates into one. It’s the kind of conclusion that makes you want to sit in stunned silence for a second before immediately opening Letterboxd to see if everyone else is losing their minds too.
In a time where everyone is angling for their fifteen minutes of fame, Lurker dares to ask: What happens when someone doesn’t just want a seat at the table? What if they want to become the table itself? It’s hilarious, horrifying, and as uncomfortable as watching a clout-chasing groupie post an unhinged apology video at 3 AM. And it’s film that leaves you questioning your own relationship with celebrity culture. Though, maybe double-check your social media privacy settings when you got a sec.
