If I were a lesser critic than I wish to be, I would use the title of this film as an opportunity to sardonically riff on how it’s anything but. There is, sadly, truth to such a sentiment; Opus, the feature directorial debut of one Mark Anthony Green, is safely one of the creakiest films in the entirety of A24‘s library, and especially far from what it ostensibly styles itself as — not an opus, per se, but a revelatory finger on what I would call a crucial pulse. 2b2h1a

But if Opus isn’t exactly worthy of praise, it certainly doesn’t deserve to be lacerated. Simply put, Green needs to continue to make movies — the subject matter that he’s shown an interest in here is requisite to a widespread, necessary form of healing, and the sooner he becomes a more confident filmmaker, the sooner we can well and truly benefit from his contributions to that conversation. But at this current juncture, his filmography (meaning Opus) fatally locks itself in its own sauce, all while insisting a handful of poisonous ingredients be part of the recipe, so to speak.

The film stars Ayo Edebiri as Ariel Ecton — a small-time journalist with big dreams and a bigger obstacle in the form of a boss (Murray Bartlett) who won’t give her writing the time of day. She gets her big break when she’s invited to a listening party hosted by Alfred Moretti (John Malkovich), a legendary 90s pop icon who has come out of retirement to release a brand new album. The announcement takes over public conversation, newscasts, and every other corner of the cultural zeitgeist, and there are many Moretti fans around the world who wish they could be in Ariel’s shoes. Ariel, however, arrives at the listening party on Moretti’s private, sprawling property — teeming with blue-robed Moretti devotees — and very quickly wishes that she was not in her own shoes.

As alluded to earlier, Opus is packed with big ideas — some of which will be touched on in a moment — but the lack of writerly and directorial discipline on Green’s part (he’s here as writer, director, and producer) undermines them quite severely. With a deliciously shrewd Malkovich as his primary vehicle, Green offers monologues upon monologues of philosophy pertaining to not only our obsession with celebrities, but where that obsession comes from, and what we can learn about ourselves and each other by examining that origin. This subsequently spins out into such topics as who is capable of making an impact on the world, and who has the courage and lucidity to even try.

The ideas are undeniably rich, and some of them are even actionable, but by rendering them as several long, cumbersome, verbal maxims, it becomes very difficult for us to get a grip on what Opus believes is its primary emotional and cerebral core. Without that grip, the plot beats cannot thematically unfurl with any sort of coherence — a plot beat might have thematic significance, but there’s no way of knowing which of Opus‘ many ontological monologues it might pertain to.

Indeed, the great irony of Opus is that it ostensibly champions our individual ability to create something, no matter how insignificant our name or brand might be or feel to ourselves. And yet, it’s so fixated on verbally prescribing us its dizzying manifesto, that it denies viewers the opportunity to bring themselves to the viewing experience and subsequently create an emotional interpretation of the film. Opus‘ screen is not a shared space, but a soapbox; usually valid grounds for mudslinging, nullified in this case by the nutrition of the film’s subject matter.

In all likelihood, this is a casualty of Green’s inexperience as a filmmaker. It’s clear as day how ionate he is about getting these ideas across — as he should be — but he’s too precious about the purity of his ideas, and thereby too dismissive of the role that the audience plays in bringing those ideas to emotional life. A more disciplined version of Opus would have focused on one of these maxims and allowed it the space to breathe, flirt, and be discovered/interpreted by the audience.

Succeeding that, Green could have explored more branches of his overarching ideology with another film a la Ti West’s X trilogy (also from A24). Instead, in his eagerness to relay these ideas, Green forgot to pace himself, and also forgot to let the ideas take on a more cinematic life outside of himself.

But even then, the mechanical storytelling instincts here are highly questionable in their own right. It’s no spoiler to say that Opus takes a turn into horror territory, the specifics of which I’ll leave you to discover on your own. But — and perhaps this is a secondary symptom of Opus‘ incongruent identity — the horror elements flatten whatever sparks of digestible insight do make it through. Why platform a tangible, antagonistic evil in your narrative when the most compelling indictment you make is towards the role we play in building our own mental prisons of worship?

That, dear readers, is far more terrifying and pertinent; it’s one thing to face an enemy, it’s another to face yourself, but both are incomparable to facing yourself by detaching from what you think gives you life. What is gained by cheering for your favorite pop star at a concert? What, if anything, are you actually cheering for by doing so?

This fallible narrative unfortunately compromises both Edebiri and Malkovich, albeit not totally. Edebiri, ever the specialist of casual awkwardness, pilots the envious Ariel superbly, and contrasts with Malkovich’s alien-like guru in a way that, in a different cut of Opus, would have been the film’s greatest weapon. Ariel speaks and stumbles like an everyday person, whereas Moretti sets himself apart from everyone else with language, intonation, and a speaking pace that make him strategically enrapturing and socially unassailable — a celebrity, in other words.

In this way, there is no interaction between these two that would cause them to connect on a human-to-human level — there is no emotional benefit to be had by either party. And I ask again; what, if anything, do we gain from pouring out our energy to a pop star at a concert?

There’s not a doubt in my mind that Green has some sort of answer to that question. Frankly, I have little trouble believing that he has an answer to many questions; pressing, intense questions that can and should be rendered on the big screen in the form of sincere storytelling.

Communicating via sincere storytelling, however, requires a filmmaking maturity that Green has demonstrated a current lack of with Opus. To evoke cliché, it’s a film whose reach far exceeds its grasp, but it’s also a prime example of a film whose reach needs to be encouraged, and which should be applauded for identifying that reach in the first place. Keep going, Mark Anthony Green — your opus will come yet.

Seldom does chance have it that an electronic music producer is as simultaneously celebrated by both seasoned and novice fans of the genre as Erik Prydz is. The Swedish progressive house icon boasts a nearly two-decade career during which his creative process has evolved into one of the most highly regarded sounds on the market, – and with the release of his long-awaited debut album, Opus, it’s no exaggeration to suggest that this time in music belongs to him. As if the music itself weren’t layered enough, Prydz chose the most enigmatic way imaginable to build up to the album’s release. Over the course of last year’s festival season, he released three EPs titled Pryda Vol. I, II and III – chronologically ordered collections of his music from the previous ten or so years that up until that point had only been available in his live sets. Opus would cap off the series with his most recent masterpieces, making the release itself a story of comparable magnitude to the rich concepts conveyed in each track. Opus is broken into two discs – the first of which begins with “Liam,” a track whose teetering synth arpeggio start it off on a simple enough note before a bouquet of other sound layers feather in, framing the central progression with complimentary colors that render it all the more poignant. “Black Dyce” follows a similar format, incorporating ’80s-reminiscent drum kits and synths – but a dramatic change in the melody near the bridge takes the listener down an unexpected road. By “Collider” you begin to identify the recurring theme in the majority of Prydz’ productions to be that they begin with a relatively straightforward, singular track on top of which additional synths and effects are harmonized until the whole of the song blossoms into something far more profound. In the case of this track, that element is the drum pattern; “Collider” is bordered on either end with a measure or two of that and almost nothing else. Prydz continues with another aural journey in the form of “Som Sas,” which features a compressed hissing sound at each peak that you can’t help but think could become the new “Pryda snare.” As we’re already discussed, “Last Dragon” makes for one of the simpler tracks of the effort – which is saying a lot considering that it still boasts a relatively complex arrangement. It’s not until the first disc’s sixth track that Opus showcases its first featured vocalist. “Moody Mondays” sees The Cut bring an almost Depeche Mode-like vibe to Prydz’ already somewhat ’80s-tinged style, and imbues an undeniable melancholy with its existentialist lyrics. The strongest track of Opus‘ first disc is “Floj,” whose layered arrangement of arpeggios achieves a euphoric range that nothing else on the album quite does. From its grooving percussion all the way to its glittering synth melody at each peak, the track demonstrates just how vibrant of a mental environment the Eric Prydz sound can create for its listener. “Trubble” makes for a considerably more dissonant iteration of the style, as its reverberant sawtooth synths give it more of an aggressive undertone. “Klepht” meets a similar end through subtler means before the final track of the first disc, “Eclipse,” leaves it off on just as transcendental a note as it started off. The track’s central melody seems to rise through layers of musical atmosphere, shining in weightless free fall before touching back down at the point before which its rudimental elements first coalesced. The biggest difference between the two parts of Opus is that the first disc features almost entirely unreleased music while many of the tracks on the second have already been available to the public in one form or another. “Sunset At Cafe Mambo” is the first track of the second disc, and it makes for more of a despondent iteration of Prydz’ creative process. What follows is Prydz’ Rob Swire collaboration, “Breathe,” which almost seems like a perversion of the rest of the album’s ambience for its lower tempo and almost radio-friendly vocals – but still ultimately makes for a respectable collaboration between the unlikely collaborators. For being the blissful example that it is of Prydz’ style while still incorporating vocals in a way that didn’t come across as cheesy, “Generate” was among the tracks that Prydz had been playing in his live sets since 2014 that truly defined his sound – and hearing it on his album almost two years later doesn’t detract from its effect. “Oddity” and “Mija” make for two more decidedly Prydzian odysseys, as their melodies ebb and flow in the way that only his productions seem to. “Every Day” seems to capture more of the nostalgia often evident in his productions, and “Liberate” stands out as another of the tracks that had seen an earlier release than the others. Finally, “The Martix” offers an uplifting and resonant tranquility before the album ends with its title song. “Opus” is as aptly titled as a track can be. The strongest effort on either disc of the album, it embodies the layered buildup of Prydz’ style perfectly. To describe it doesn’t do it justice, as its seamless flow from change to change makes it one of the best tracks to surface from contemporary electronic music. Years from now when the world looks back on this era in music, it’s likely that they won’t artists like Martin Garrix or David Guetta as strongly as they’ll  Eric Prydz. The way he utilizes the benefits of modern production software puts his skill on par with that of a famous classical composer, and his incorporation of the tracks into his live shows throughout the years brings a depth of concept to his music that’s been building over the better part of a decade. Seeing him at a career high, his fans can only hope that he’ll be able to keep the momentum of Opus moving forward and will continue to put out the caliber of music that serves to define a generation.

Dance music fans the world over are counting down the days until the release of Eric Prydz‘s highly anticipated debut album, Opus, making it as fitting a time as any for the Swedish progressive house innovator to tease out a couple tracks. In the eighth episode of his esteemed Beats 1 show, the DJ/producer has showcased two songs from the effort that capture his richly layered style and depth of concept. The mix starts off with the first track, “The Matrix,” a decidedly uplifting progression that showcases Prydz’s use of synth arpeggios. The second, “Trubble,” arrives at the end, and utilizes otherworldly dissonance to create more tension in the listener. In bookending the mix with either track, Prydz makes the eighth edition of his Beats 1 show a tantalizing preview for what’s to come on Opus. As far as the album itself is concerned, Eric Prydz‘ Opus will come out on February 5th. In the meantime, listen to the eighth installment of his Beats 1 show above and find your favorite songs by looking them up on the tracklist below. 1. Eric Prydz – The Matrix 2. Pryda – M.S.B.O.Y. (/w Sander Kleinenberg – M.A.N.I.A.C (Eric Prydz remix)) 3. Eric Prydz – Tribute to Stockholm 4. Cirez D – TOOL 1 vs. Cirez D – Glow (In the Dark Dub) 5. Eric Prydz – Niton 82 (The Reason) [Prydz 82 Remix] 6. Pryda – Gavioli 7. Pryda – 2013 Space Miami Intro ID 8. Pryda – Tijuana (I CAN’T FEEL MY FUCKING FACE RIGHT NOW MIX) 9. Tonja Holma – Trippleton 10. Cirez D – Paradiso ID 11. Cirez D – Warfield ID 12. ID – EDC Vegas ID 13 Hour 2: Eric Prydz Live from Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver, BC, Jan 2, 2016. 1. D-Unity – Our House 2. DJ Boris – Can You Hear Me (Enrico Sanguiliano Remix) 3. Cirez D – In The Reds (Twitter ID) 4. Luca M & JUST2 – The Power (Stefano Noferini Re-Edit) 5. Jim Rivers & Paolo Mojo – Ron Hardy Said (Eric Prydz Remix) 6. Cirez D – NCG ID 7. DJ Hell – Take a Shot 8. Cirez D – Bauerpost 9. Armand Van Helden – I Want Your Soul (Dusty Kid Suga Vocal) 10. Eric Prydz – Trubble Vinyl Chapter The Human League – Don’t You Want Me

As another year chock full of electronic music releases comes to a close, the EDM blogosphere once again tries to speculate which tracks will be most ed from the past 12 months. As a whole, dance music in 2015 has been characterized by a return to more classic styles, and this trend strongly reflects in the releases of individual artists. As much as the phenomenon of main stage EDM may have seemed like a runaway train in the years that have followed its breach into mainstream consciousness, many of the genre’s tastemakers have begun to favor more underground styles. This has led to increased presence of such tracks in DJ sets across the globe – but in many cases, it’s even caused some of the movement’s most influential artists to steer their own styles in arguably more obscure directions. Being the turning point that it is for all things EDM, 2015 will be ed for releases that span a broad stylistic range while still remaining anchored to the influences at the movement’s foundation. So, on that note, check out my picks for the 10 best electronic music tracks of 2015.

“Opus,” the title of Eric Prydz‘s jaw dropping finale to his Electric Daisy Carnival performance, is scheduled to release on July 27th via Beatport. The date precedes the release of Pryda 10 Vol. II on August 10th, and the enormously anticipated Eric Prydz album in October. The announcement of “Opus” is a joyous surprise, as fans of the Swedish mastermind are well accustom to his IDs never seeing a formal release, “Generate” being a prime example of a track that has only recently become available. Clocking in at just over nine minutes, “Opus” s the category of epic storytelling alongside Deau5′ “Strobe” and The M Machine’s “Luma.” The track begins with an emotionally rich melody that slowly gains tempo until the telltale Prydz percussion begins to kick around two minutes in. Gradually, tension builds as the synthesized strings drop into a euphoric breakdown supplanted by retro 80s sub-oscillations. “Opus” boasts a truly expansive texture, and offers a brilliant continuation of what has already been an incredible year for Eric Prydz. Have a listen above and stay on the lookout for more Pryda announcements soon.