"Lurker" is a teeth-grittingly great dramedy that insists there's more tension in the entourage of a mellow hipster than a king. At least imperial courtiers trust in strict codes about curtsies and proper titles. The rules of hanging out with British-born, L.A.-based emo-pop musician Oliver (Archie Madekwe) are vague and fraught. An impulsive, baby-faced charmer on the ascent from Instagram popularity to mainstream icon, Oliver isn't that rich or that famous (yet), but he's already surrounded by friends-slash-employees who ferociously guard his fiefdom and their access to it. Oliver thrives on vibes, bro, and these ones are cutthroat.

First-time feature filmmaker Alex Russell brings us into this demi-star's orbit through a Melrose streetwear sales clerk named Matthew (Théodore Pellerin). The gawky kid is an Oliver obsessive. But he's clever enough to hide it, negging his hero into giving him a backstage pass. (Here, it's an insult to be called a fan.) Upon entering the green room, Matthew is hazed by Oliver's buddies Swett and Bowen (Zack Fox and Wale Onayemi, both inscrutable, funny and terrifying), who order the nervous outsider to pull down his pants as a tribute to their dead homie. He passes that test. There will be more to come.

Russell sharpened his knives as a writer and producer on "The Bear" and "Beef." He makes bleak comedies about strivers with shiv-like gags that make you wheeze in pain. Advised to make himself useful, Matthew quickly gets promoted from Oliver's unofficial dishwasher to his unofficial documentary director. Just as quickly, he makes enemies with Oliver's somewhat more official music video director, Noah (Daniel Zolghadri), who attempts to give Matthew the royal brush-off, as in "We appreciate your help, but ..." and then patronizingly calls him his "sous-chef."

As Matthew learns when his pal, Jamie (Sunny Suljic), finagles his own party invite, anyone who gets their claws in Oliver attacks their rivals. "Lurker" is too passive a title for this story of competition. "Clinger" or "Leecher" would be more apropos.

Oliver presents as all sunny, breezy love, sporting a trucker cap over a babushka over bleached pink hair. The costumer Megan Gray outfits the 6-foot-5 Madekwe in floppy sweaters that exaggerate his eagerness to pull people in for a long-limbed hug. Flighty and magnetic, Oliver trills that his clique is "one big happy family," using his faux-obliviousness to shield himself from being the bad guy. That responsibility lands on everyone else, especially the observant and exhausted Shai (Havana Rose Liu), who might be called Oliver's manager if anyone had a formal job description.

Madekwe played a more obviously cruel gatekeeper in "Saltburn" as Jacob Elordi's snotty American cousin, but he still holds all the keys. In scenes where Madekwe shuts off his character's warmth, the movie gets 30 degrees colder (and his artificial pep more chilling). Meanwhile, Pellerin's flinchy smiles and forced guffaws prove how much effort it takes to act effortless. At his most nonchalant, he's doing an Oliver impression.

"Lurker" has a casual malevolence, Russell sidling up to his targets before he attacks. He stress-tests our icky, grubby pity for Matthew and, beyond that, the flimsiness of modern fame culture and its fake-it-till-you-make-it inspirational platitudes. In a hilarious bit, one of Matthew's own fans stops him on the street to gush, "I wanna be like you — but what do you do?"

What Russell really seems to be wondering is what separates a real artist from a fake? If "Lurker" had been made a generation ago, it would have drawn a line along the boundary of authenticity: Is Oliver sincere about his vulnerable anthems? Today, that question is passé. We now recognize the pressure to forge a brand, even if said brand is a pretense of not caring about one's image.

At this point in his career, Oliver likes framing himself as giddy, low-fi and spontaneous. He loves videos of himself crashing his bike into a trash can, frolicking on a beach, prancing around a field with a retro camcorder strapped to a sheep. "Am I tripping or is this sick?" Oliver asks about the farm footage. Since his posse won't admit the truth, I will: It sucks.

Oliver's charisma is its own trap. A crib of yes-men limits how big he can grow. The film's image-first focus doesn't give it much runway to explore what motivates Oliver as an artist. There are several performance scenes that showcase Madekwe's ability to croon in a convincing limber lilt but little engagement with his actual music. You sense that Russell is more confident dissecting the qualities of a good steak sandwich than a good song.

My impression of the tunes is that Kenny Beats (who had a hand in all of them and also the brilliantly anxious electronic score) has written the bulk to be decent but not dynamite. How a singer vaults up in quality is as mysterious as trying to define cool itself. Only toward the end of the film does Russell tease the question that we, too, have forgotten to ask: Does anyone care whether Oliver is a genuine talent?

Despite its thorny psychology, "Lurker" strips its characters of everything but a scrap of backstory. We're aware that Matthew lives with his grandmother, but we don't know why and we don't even know her name. That starkness gives the movie the in-the-moment immediacy of a nature doc about a shark and a swarm of remoras. Russell insists we make our own diagnosis about what drives Matthew and Oliver's hunger for applause — and if their symbiotic dynamic has echoes throughout the entire music industry.

Twice, Russell cues up the R&B classic "I'm Your Puppet," which is once too many for my taste. We're already concentrating on who's pulling the strings. Elsewhere, there are moments when I wish Russell himself didn't play things quite so casually. He's so smart about noting the details — tiny glances, awkward smiles — that it's head-scrambling when he obscures a major plot point under hasty editing and cryptic dialogue. It's a key sequence in the script, yet we can't get a grip on whether it's horrific luck or a game of six-dimensional chess. The distinction matters.

Still, Russell has captured us with this tale of a pawn trying to capture a king. We feel for them both. And we understand why castles have moats.

———

'LURKER'

MPA rating: R (for language throughout and some sexual content)

Running time: 1:40

How to watch: In limited theatrical release Aug. 22

———

©2025 Los Angeles Times. Visit latimes.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.