Review: O'Dessa

Geremy Jasper’s "O’Dessa" is a film that arrives on screen as if fully formed from the pages of a high school notebook, complete with neon-drenched sketches of rockstar dreams and post-apocalyptic melodrama. In theory, a rock musical that reimagines the Orpheus and Eurydice myth in a world that’s equal parts "Mad Max" and "Blade Runner" sounds intriguing. In execution, however, "O’Dessa" is an unfortunate case of aesthetic over substance, a movie that shouts grand intentions but never quite delivers on them.

Sadie Sink, fresh off the intensity of "The Whale" and the supernatural horrors of "Stranger Things," takes center stage as O’Dessa, a farm girl with a prophecy stitched into her DNA. She is the "seventh son" of a legendary troubadour, a chosen one meant to change the world with the power of music. The film never questions or complicates this idea, she simply is. Her journey begins after the passing of her mother (marked by a few poetic coughs, the shorthand for cinematic tragedy), setting her off toward the neon-lit abyss of Satylite City to reclaim her stolen guitar. But while the road is paved with promise, it rarely leads anywhere beyond the expected beats of the reluctant hero’s journey.

The world of "O’Dessa" is certainly striking, but it is also paper-thin. It leans into maximalist production design, costumes and sets caked in grime and dripping in electric hues, but there’s no lived-in history beneath the surface. Satylite City is ruled by Plutonovich (Murray Bartlett, gamely chewing the scenery), a despotic game-show host who forces contestants into musical duels with grim consequences. It’s a concept that should pulse with tension and satire, but the film never takes the time to flesh out the implications of its dystopia. Instead, it skims across the surface, offering a parade of stylistic excess that ultimately feels hollow.

The same can be said for the film’s central romance. O’Dessa meets Euri (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), a star performer who exists somewhere between a captive and a willing participant in Plutonovich’s empire. Their love story is painted in broad strokes, instantly, deeply felt, and frustratingly empty. There’s no push or pull, no real chemistry beyond stolen glances and soft-focus kisses. Sink and Harrison Jr. are both capable performers, but they are given little to work with beyond archetypes. Their love is meant to be world-altering, yet it barely registers beyond a whisper.

As a rock opera, "O’Dessa" leans heavily on its music, but here lies another fatal flaw. Jasper, alongside Jason Binnick, crafts songs that are pleasant enough but lack the emotional weight or memorability needed to sell the idea that music can reshape a society. The lyrics are platitudinous "love is all you need" levels of simplicity, while the melodies rarely stick. A film that hinges on a musical revolution needs at least one show-stopping anthem, but "O’Dessa" never finds its voice.

Perhaps the most intriguing element of "O’Dessa" is its play with gender presentation. Sink’s O’Dessa is a rockabilly androgynous figure in leather jackets and slicked-back hair, while Harrison Jr.’s Euri embraces a femme aesthetic of silk and lace. It’s a compelling visual subversion of traditional gender roles, one that hints at a more interesting film lurking beneath the surface. Yet, like so many of the film’s ideas, this too remains undeveloped.

"O’Dessa" is too earnest to hate but too flimsy to love. It feels like a collection of inspirations rather than a fully realized vision, a mixtape of influences without a cohesive sound. Jasper’s commitment to his passion project is admirable, but passion alone cannot carry a film. Without deeper world-building, stronger characters, or truly transformative music, "O’Dessa" remains a pretty but forgettable echo of better stories. It may find a cult following for its aesthetics, but its heart beats too faintly to leave a lasting impact.

1.5/5