‘O’Dessa’ Review – A Dazzling Fever Dream That Misses Its Full Potential

There’s something about a fairy tale set to music that stirs the soul in ways ordinary stories don’t. Maybe it’s the way a melody can carry emotion beyond words, or how a song lingers long after the credits roll, like a whisper from another world. Geremy Jasper’s O’Dessa takes this idea and lets it run wild—across golden fields, through neon-drenched streets, and straight into the heart of something visually striking, if not always emotionally cohesive.

It begins, as the best stories do, with a girl. O’Dessa (Sadie Sink) is a farm girl with wild red curls and a voice that aches like an old country record. Her world is small, made up of dust and dreams, until she’s forced on a journey that changes everything. She must travel to the distant, glittering city of Satylite to retrieve her grandmother’s engagement ring from her supposed true love. But this isn’t just about romance. It’s about identity, destiny, and the things we carry with us—whether we want to or not.

The world of O’Dessa is a kaleidoscope of contradictions. It feels ancient and brand new, a place where folklore and neon coexist, where the past hums beneath the present like a forgotten melody. Jasper crafts a fever dream of a city, one that pulses with music and madness. If Dorothy wandered into Blade Runner, she might end up here, where love is currency and fate is just another song waiting to be sung. The film embraces excess in a way that’s both mesmerizing and, at times, overwhelming. While this audacious approach creates some stunning moments, it can also leave the emotional weight feeling somewhat secondary to the spectacle.

Sadie Sink carries the film like she was born to do it. There’s something raw in the way she sings, like every lyric is a confession, every note a secret meant only for the stars. She brings an intensity to O’Dessa—this is a girl who is not just searching for love, but for herself. She isn’t wide-eyed or naive; she’s determined, a little bruised, and entirely captivating. Sink, one of the best young actresses to come out of Stranger Things, continues to prove herself with this performance, showcasing a range that feels both natural and powerful. However, the film sometimes struggles to give her arc the depth it deserves. While Sink’s performance is strong, the screenplay doesn’t always match her intensity, leaving certain emotional beats feeling underdeveloped.

Kelvin Harrison Jr. as Euri, the brooding, effortlessly cool musician who is both part of O’Dessa’s journey and perhaps the reason for it, adds charisma to the film. Their chemistry simmers, their duets feel like stolen moments in a world too loud to hear them, and every time they share the screen, it feels like something electric is about to happen. Yet, despite the film’s clear attempt at crafting a compelling love story, there’s a sense that their connection never fully ignites. Their relationship is more of a sketch than a painting, lovely to look at but missing some of the finer details.

And the music. Oh, the music. It isn’t just part of the film—it is the film. Jasper understands, in the way the best filmmakers do, that music has the power to elevate a moment beyond words. The soundtrack is a genre-blending wonder, weaving together rock, folk, and aching ballads into something that feels timeless. One song, sung in the hush of a streetlight glow, feels like a spell being cast. You don’t just listen to these songs; you fall into them. They get under your skin, wrap around your ribs, and settle somewhere deep inside you. But while the film leans heavily on its musical storytelling, not every song lands with the impact it seems to be aiming for. Some numbers soar, while others feel more like filler, creating an uneven rhythm that sometimes pulls you out of the story rather than deeper into it.

Visually, O’Dessa is nothing short of dazzling. The city of Satylite unfolds like a fever dream, a neon wasteland where opulence and decay coexist in a tangled embrace. It’s a place that pulses with both grandeur and grit, where the spectacle of the city mirrors the chaos within. Regina Hall, as the enigmatic Neon Dion, dominates this world with an iron grip, her every line oozing a sharp-edged glamour that draws you in. Then there’s Murray Bartlett’s Plutonovich, a game-show host from hell, brimming with excess and menace. These characters feel like they were born for this world—larger than life, yet oddly familiar in their distorted realities.

Yet, for all its spectacle, O’Dessa finds its soul in its quietest moments. A glance across a crowded room, a breath held just a second too long, the way a hand hesitates before reaching for another. Fairy tales may be full of grand gestures, but love—real love—lives in the spaces in between. And that’s where this film lingers, in the in-betweens. It’s in these moments that O’Dessa hints at something truly magical, though it doesn’t always reach it.

Not everything lands perfectly. Some moments feel like they reach just beyond their grasp, and the film’s final act, while thrilling, rushes by in a blur when it could have let us linger just a little longer. The climax, in particular, feels hurried, almost as if the film is afraid to dwell too long on its own emotions. Given how much O’Dessa builds its world with such care, it’s a bit frustrating that its conclusion doesn’t hit as hard as it could.

When the credits roll, O’Dessa leaves you floating somewhere between dream and reality, melodies still humming in your head like fireflies trapped in a jar. While it doesn’t always succeed, it’s impossible to deny the ambition and artistry behind it. O’Dessa is a journey worth taking, even if the path is sometimes uneven. It may not sweep you entirely off your feet, but it will, at the very least, make you want to hum along.

O’Dessa is currently available to stream exclusively on Hulu.