This had good potential and John Malkovich can usually be relied upon when eccentricity is needed, but the rest of this is an incomplete and rather messy reminder of “Midsommar” meets “Ten Little Indians”. He is the reclusive pop star “Moretti” who announces after almost thirty years away, that he is to release his comeback album. The industry goes wild for this news and when he announces his own version of a golden ticket and invites a select group to join him for an exclusive get together at his ranch, the enthusiast journalist “Ariel” (Ayo Edebiri) accompanies her limelight hogging boss to this ultimate weekend. Of course, as soon as she arrives she finds the place akin to a cult. Loads of almost automaton acolytes, some cruelly painful oyster shucking and loads of sexually fluid flamboyance from their host all starts to get her heckles up and gradually we become aware that their is an altogether ulterior motive for this carefully contrived fine dining experience. When one of their number goes missing, well things rapidly speed to a denouement that is straight out of Agatha Christie. The point it makes in the end is actually quite a clever one, but the rest of this is all derivative and simplistic. Why were this group selected? Who are they? What have they in common with each other or with their antagonist? For something that’s supposed to be random and spontaneous, the entire plot depends on characters making very specific (and not always the most natural of) choices en route. Malkovich does stand out, but that might also be as much to do with the really mediocre writing and the remainder of the cast delivering a very join-the-dots performance. Sadly, this is nothing original nor special and really disappoints.