Producers: David Permut and James Sweeney    Director: James Sweeney   Screenplay: James Sweeney Cast: Dylan O’Brien, James Sweeney, Lauren Graham, Aisling Franciosi, Tasha Smith, Chris Perfetti and Susan Park   Distributor: Roadside Attractions/Lionsgate

Grade: B+

The reality that people often aren’t who they seem is at the root of James Sweeney’s sophomore feature, a darkly funny but poignant, indeed tragic, tale of two men who find one another in shared grief. 

Take, for instance, Marcie (Aisling Franciosi), an eternally bubbly young woman working in a Los Angeles firm alongside Dennis (Sweeney), one of the film’s main characters. She’s initially made to seem a rather flaky, friendless girl whom Dennis treats like a bit of an irritant when she evinces any concern for him. But when he decides to go to a party at her place, it’s jammed, and everyone there is effusive about what a wonderful person she is.  That’s particularly true of Roman (Dylan O’Brien), the new buddy Dennis brings along with him.  He and Marcie will, in fact, become a couple.

That’s bad news for Dennis, a lonely, grimly witty gay man who met Roman in a bereavement group for people trying to cope with the deaths of their identical twins.  The premise is unusual enough, but made more so by the fashion in which the leader begins the session: by asking each member to reveal something they don’t miss about their lost double.  That prompts one attendee (Tasha Smith) to go on quite a sarcastic tear about her departed sibling.

Far more earnest and withdrawn is Roman, the focus in the first segment of the film, shown at the gravesite of his brother Rocky, a free-spirited gay extrovert who, we learn, died in a freak traffic accident.  A brawny guy prone to malapropisms and ready to admit he’s not all that smart, with an undercurrent of anger that can suddenly break out in violence, Roman’s come to Portland for the service with his mother Lisa (Lauren Graham), and finds himself inundated with condolences from friends intoxicated by his resemblance to his seductive, charismatic brother.  Roman is overwhelmed not so much by their expressions of sadness as by a feeling of profound loneliness over the loss of someone who might have been a completely different person from him but was somehow his anchor to the world in a way that Lisa—a distant, brusque figure with whom he’s always arguing about something—can never be.

The film focuses on Roman—played, along with Rocky in flashbacks, by O’Brien in a dual performance remarkable for its depth and nuance—until the opening credits, when the perspective switches to Dennis, whom Sweeney embodies perfectly with his slouched gawky body and self-deprecating asides.  He’s depressed, and so desperate for potential romance that he even asks his boss (Susan Park), for whom discussing anything personal is anathema, for relationship advice (she’s perplexed and dismissive).  When he encounters Roman, who in his way is just as emotionally needy, at the group session, they haltingly develop an unlikely, almost brotherly bond, going shopping and having lunches together.  Each offers something the other longs for at a moment that’s critical for them both, and they become best friends.

That’s inevitably altered when Marcie enters the picture and a threesome results, in which Dennis is the odd man out.  When George (Chris Perfetti), who knew Rocky, is added to the equation as a potential partner for Dennis, the situation becomes even more complicated, for reasons that won’t be revealed here.

It would, in fact, be criminal to say too much about what happens after this setup, because Sweeney has constructed a very clever piece in which expectations are continuously upended and twists that at first seem cringy are transformed into something revelatory even as they sometimes carry an unpleasant shock.  To be specific about how he achieves this would ruin things; this is a film best seen without spoilers about its plot mechanisms, so that the surprises can sneak up on you and have their full effect.  The reader just has to trust that it’s worth going in without knowing too much beforehand and keeping an open mind.

At the same time they shouldn’t expect too much; “Twinless” is a fine film but not a great one.  It sometimes stumbles.  But its very awkwardness is part of its strength.  O’Brien and Sweeney make a heartbreaking pair, and the supporting cast is excellent.  Sweeney’s direction can be a bit flat at times, but periodically he, cinematographer Greg Cotton, production designer Priscilla Elliott and editor Nik Boyanov achieve extraordinary moments of intimacy and emotional rawness.  Erin Orr has fashioned costumes that fit the distinct characters flawlessly, and Jung Jae-Il adds a spare score that strikes the right notes of hope and melancholy.

“Twinless” will sometimes make you laugh, occasionally make you squirm, often make you sad, periodically take you aback and always keep you guessing.  Despite some flaws it’s an engrossing film.

Producers: Alex Orlovsky, Duncan Montomery, Galen Core, Francesco Melzi D’Eril, Jack Selby, Marc Marrie, Charlie McDowell, Archie Madekwe and Olmo Schnabel   Director: Alex Russell   Screenplay: Alex Russell   Cast: Théodore Pellerin, Archie Madekwe, Zack Fox, Havana Rose Liu, Wale Onayemi, Daniel Zolghadri, Sunny Suljic, Myra Turley and Cam Hicks Distributor: Mubi

Grade: B+

There’s a bit of “All About Eve” in this directorial feature debut from writer Alex Russell (episodes of “Beef” and “The Bear”), but “Lurker” is no clone of the Bette Davis classic.  Its Eve counterpart isn’t looking to supplant the object of his obsession; he simply wants to bask in the reflected light of celebrity.  But when the opportunity to seize the spotlight presents itself, he embraces it with cruel cunning.

He’s Matthew Morning (Théodore Pellerin), a geeky clerk at a boutique L.A. clothing store that caters to style-minded celebrities.  When up-and-coming singer Oliver (Archie Madekwe) drops in with his entourage, Matt’s co-worker Jamie (Sunny Suljic) goes all fan-tastic over him, but it’s Matt who impresses the guy by putting Nile Rogers’ “My Love Song for You” on the store music system, knowing somehow that it’s a favorite of his.  Oliver invites him to his concert that night, although Matt admits that he doesn’t know his music and likes the Rogers song because he dances to it with his grandmother (Myra Turley), with whom he lives.

Nonetheless he goes to the show, and after proving himself in a sort of backstage test conducted by Oliver’s chief followers Swett (Zack Fox) and Bowen (Wale Onayemi), is accepted into the singer’s “family” though Oliver’s manager Shai (Havana Rose Liu), the practical one, seems a bit uncertain about him.  Even more standoffish is Noah (Daniel Zolghadri), Oliver’s videographer and design guru, who’s concerned when Matt brings an old video camera to Oliver’s frat-like house and begins shooting fly-on-the-wall footage (“Spike Jonze stuff!” as Oliver calls it) that might be incorporated into Noah’s slicker material.

Matt perceives a greater danger to his permanent place in the entourage, though, when his old pal Jamie comes to a party at Oliver’s and the kid’s talent at designing clothes wins over the singer and his crew.  He tries to derail Jamie’s ascent a couple of times when both accompany Oliver on a trip to England for a recording session and Jamie’s ideas are embraced rather than his, but the scheme goes awry, and Matt finds himself pretty much exiled.  That’s when things turn sinister as Matt uses underhanded means to secure not only his return to the “family” but substantial power over Oliver.  That will provoke a response from Oliver and his crew, but the finale redoubles Russell’s cynical take on the shifting nature of celebrity in today’s media-crazy world.

Madekwe is utterly convincing as an ambitious young guy who’s cultivated an image of smooth imperturbability; the mask slips only when he’s answering Matt’s unscripted questions in interviews for the planned documentary, and later when he feels his carefully prepared public persona threatened; the various members of his “family” all feel like familiar follower types, nicely sketched. 

But even Oliver plays second fiddle to Matt, whom Pellerin initially portrays as the sort of dweeb who appears submissively devoted to doing others’ bidding while actually sneakily involved in quiet self-promotion, and who sees trouble when Jamie, played as an open, guileless soul by Suljic, shows up, innocently beating him at his own game.  Then, when the place he’s won appears in danger, Pellerin captures Matt’s steely determination to trap Oliver and use his newfound clout to advance his own career.  There’s also an unmistakable hint of homoeroticism in the way the character reacts to Oliver’s stealing into his room one night.  All told, Pellerin’s is a nuanced turn that keeps you guessing about the guy’s motives from moment to moment. 

Russell is as canny as Matt; he keeps “Lurker” feeling edgy and surprising, helped not only by the performances but by the almost oppressive sense of intimacy created by Miranda Lorenz’s cramped production design, Pat Scola feverish cinematography and David Kashevaroff’s frenetic editing. Madekwe effectively sings the numbers written by himself and composer Kenneth Blume (the erstwhile Kenny Beats).

“Lurker” puts an intriguing new spin on an old formula about ambition and fame, a tweak that reflects the celebrity culture of our social-media driven age.