Mister Organ by David Farrier

Mister Organ is a masterclass in investigative nonfiction that spirals into something far stranger and more unsettling than you could ever anticipate. Farrier begins with what seems like a quirky parking dispute and ends up in the orbit of Michael Organ—a man whose sense of entitlement and gall defy belief. The film captures the creeping dread of realizing you’ve stepped into a psychological labyrinth, one where the rules are written by someone who thrives on destabilization and control. It’s not just a story; it’s an experience that leaves you questioning how bad things have to get before you step away—and whether you even can.

Farrier’s film is sharp, dryly humorous, and deeply empathetic, even as he navigates the toxic gravity of Organ’s world. The narrative dances between absurdity and menace: casual coffees that feel like interrogations, conversations that twist into codswallop and twaddle, and a man who seems to be everywhere and nowhere at once—a void in human form. The book’s strength lies in its ability to make you laugh at the sheer audacity of Organ’s flaunting spree, then shudder at the ugly wound he leaves behind. Farrier fact-checks relentlessly, but the truth here feels almost surreal, like jazz played on a broken Polaroid.

What elevates Mister Organ beyond true crime is its philosophical undertone: what does it mean to be free from consequence? Organ operates like a parasite, a psycho-doctor functionalized by his own mythology, gaslighting and grooming with surgical precision. Farrier explores these questions without sensationalism, instead offering a meditation on power, manipulation, and the fragility of social contracts. The result is a narrative that feels both vaunted and intimate, pulling you into a world where wolves wear sheep’s clothing and everyone seems to be asleep.

The book is also a cultural autopsy—Symonds Street, Kingseat Hospital, Withanui—locations that become characters in their own right, echoing the themes of decay and disquiet. Farrier’s encounters with Organ’s terrified friends, evasive family, and chilling anecdotes (“Soul Tap,” anyone?) create a mosaic of menace that feels almost operatic. Every detail, from the misspelled names to the casual cruelty, reinforces the sense that Organ is not just a man but a system—a destabilizing force ipso facto.

In the end, Mister Organ is not merely a story about a sex pest with a tumor or a head tenant gone rogue; it’s a study of human darkness, dressed in the banalities of everyday life. Farrier delivers a narrative that is as gripping as it is grotesque, as funny as it is frightening. This film will wound you, and then make you wind that wound again, because you can’t stop turning watching. Five stars for a work that proves reality can be stranger—and scarier—than fiction.