SXSW 2025: O’Dessa

With “O’Dessa”, Geremy Jasper has unleashed a pulsating, vibrant vision that’s set to redefine the rock opera genre for a new generation.

When it comes to cinema, I’m a sucker for post-apocalyptic odysseys that examine both the wanton cruelty and hopeful resilience of man. I also find a movie musical hard to resist, especially when it’s the glorious excess and pulse-pounding, unabashedly queer seduction of a stylish rock opera.

With that said, I’m pretty much the narrowly defined bullseye of O’Dessa’s target audience, and that no doubt infused the giddy excitement I had both entering and exiting my viewing.

A few title cards briefly set the stage for a poisoned world, a post-apocalyptic world, and Satylite City, which remains the last outpost of civilization. There, in a neon-soaked den of corruption, a self-appointed God controls the desperate masses through entertainment-based complacency.

Our titular hero (Sadie Sink, Stranger Things) lives on a small farm with her mother. Her father, a famous rambler (a traveler who sings for money), abandoned her and her mother for the lure of the open road. He told O’Dessa of her destiny as the Seventh Son, a hero prophesized to save the world through song.

After his death, he sends a magically-infused guitar back to O’Dessa.

After her mother’s death, O’Dessa chops off her hair and sets fire to her past—figuratively and literally—hitting the open road.  

But the world is full of treachery and trickery, and O’Dessa is soon parted with her prized possession, forced to go on a rescue mission in the city.

Upon arriving, she immediately meets and falls hard for an exploited singer and private dancer, Euri (Kelvin Harrison Jr). But their love is thwarted by Euri’s cruel and jealous employer, Neon (Regina Hall).

Hall is terrifyingly mesmerizing as a personification of authoritarian cruelty and compassionless leadership. She shares the sinister stage with Murray Bartlett, who gives an equally despicable performance as soulless entertainment tycoon Plutonovich, the man pulling the strings of the evil empire.

There are overt nods to the heartbreaking myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, a doomed love affair between a master musician and a nymph.

If you’re familiar with the story, you know it’s one of devotion, the cruelty of fate, the power of music, and the fleeting nature of happiness—themes woven throughout the film and shaping its emotional tides.

The film’s visual aesthetic, a gritty, punk-infused spectacle, echoes the subversive spirit of cult classics like Repo! The Genetic Opera, creating a distinct and immersive world.

Yet, the film’s sonic tapestry is truly the triumph. The soundtrack, courtesy of the film’s writer/director Geremy Jasper (Patti Cake$), defies expectations, particularly in its audacious integration of country influences within a rock opera framework. It is a bold fusion of country twang, raw rock energy, shimmering pop sensibilities, and soul-stirring ballads.

Each song isn’t merely a musical interlude; it’s a vital narrative artery.

The music propels O’Dessa’s journey while excavating the depths of her emotional landscape. These aren’t just ‘movie songs’; they’re anthems, destined to stand alongside the most iconic musical moments in cinema history.

Sink can sing her ass off, which makes sense given she began her career belting “Tomorrow” on Broadway as Annie.

Kelvin Harrison Jr.’s Euri ignites the screen with a performance that radiates raw charisma. He delivers one of the film’s most visceral and unforgettable musical sequences, a moment of pure, unadulterated magnetism.

Sadie Sink’s transformation is breathtaking to watch. We witness her metamorphosis not just physically but spiritually, as her voice and worldview evolve. Sink’s portrayal is a study in the subtle art of emotional decay and rebirth.

While some may dismiss it as an exercise in style over substance, this is a work brimming with passion and conviction.

Beneath the dazzling surface lies a profound commentary on the insidious nature of media manipulation, the commodification of artistry, and our society’s obsession with superficiality.

The film exposes how entertainment can be weaponized as a tool of distraction, a grotesque sleight of hand that masks the looming horrors of our reality.

It’s a layered narrative, where the spectacle itself becomes a mirror reflecting the very themes it critiques, a depth that risks being overlooked by those blinded by its brilliance.

Especially potent is the provocative nature of its gender-bending androgyny and its subversion of gender stereotypes—casting a woman in the role of hero and a man in the role of objectified and exploited victim.

It’s a defiant cry in turbulent times, a testament to the enduring power of art as a beacon of hope in the face of despair.

O’Dessa is a love letter to the transformative power of creativity, a call to arms against the insidious forces that seek to control our minds and manipulate our perceptions. It’s a reminder that art, when wielded with purpose, can be a potent catalyst for change, a resounding chord struck at the precise moment to ignite a revolution against the tyranny of distraction and the burning world around us.

Left-of-center films like this are inherently not for everyone.

But for those who appreciate creative films that traverse the road less traveled, O’Dessa is a sumptuous, rapturous fever dream that seems destined for (at least deserving of) cult status.