Some of the loneliest (and most dangerous) corners of the internet are filled with young men whose only wish is for a woman to adore and obey them. But as the saying goes – and horror movies continue to remind us – be careful what you wish for…
Obsession is the feature film debut from 26-year-old YouTuber Curry Barker, who first caught horror fans’ attention in 2024 with his micro-budget online movie, Milk & Serial.
A classic tale of wish-gone-wrong that follows in the footsteps of movies like Deathdream, Wishmaster and The Monkey’s Paw, Obsession provides a uniquely contemporary take on the premise; one that balances comedic shocks with psychological darkness to skewer an online generation’s warped views on love.
Bear (Michael Johnston) is your typical “nice boy”, the kind who wears grandad cardigans, sobs over cats, and always offers to drive you home. He’s also hopelessly infatuated with his friend and colleague, Nikki (Inde Navarrette) – something no amount of awkward confessional rehearsals can bring him to admit out loud.
Sad and dejected, he buys a ‘One Wish Willow’ – a novelty item from one of those witchy little shops that sells incense, crystals and books about celestial alignment. He wishes that Nikki loved him more than anyone else in the entire world.
Almost instantly, it seems to come true – but Nikki isn’t herself. She’s erratic and confused, like a ventriloquist that’s lost control of their puppet’s movements. This only worsens as their relationship accelerates, with her behaviour becoming increasingly possessive, creepy and violent.
As Bear’s panic grows, he learns he can’t undo it – his only options are a lifetime of this, or suicide.
Guess he should have read the Ts and Cs on the back of that willow box…
What makes Obsession most compelling is not its central gimmick, but the ways in which it plays with our expectations. While the start suggests Bear will be the victim – of unrequited love then a truly manic dream pixie girl – the story suddenly diverts its focus to Nikki and becomes something much darker.
Possessed by both a demon and a boy she didn’t feel that way about, she becomes a prisoner in her own body, stripped of all autonomy and forced to be nothing more than an object for sex and servitude. In certain shots, her face looks almost melted, as if she’s become a withered husk of who she used to be.
It’s an absolutely terrifying concept, and one that’s all the more visceral due to a stand-out performance from Navarrette. Constantly on the verge of maudlin monstrousness, her frozen smiles and shadowy scuttles manage to embody both demonic possession and the absolute despair of losing control over yourself.
In this sense, the movie’s deadliest obsession is never truly Nikki’s, but Bear’s all along.
Many movies have tackled the gruesome effects of obsessional desire in the past, with Fatal Attraction and Single White Female chief among them, but unlike these, Barker’s story feels less like an isolated extreme and more of a commentary on the sorts of insidious beliefs that now populate podcasts with millions of views.
In one haunting scene, Bear stands in the doorway of his bedroom and hears Nikki’s voice – the real Nikki’s – small and pleading for him to kill her. Yet still, for the majority of the movie, he refuses to accept that her sudden extreme affection for him could be anything but real, brushing off his friends’ concerns that he might be taking advantage of someone in a vulnerable state.
Even Bear’s name seems like a reference to an old viral debate that saw women collectively choosing a bear over a man to be alone in the woods with. Had they considered the men in bears’ clothing? The ones that present as friendlier, but whose performative softness conceals sinister insecurities?
Where the movie falls down is not delving into Nikki’s perspective more, instead prioritising its blandest character who becomes harder and harder to empathise with.
While there’s plenty of gore – including a scene with a window and a head that you know is coming but still gets you – the film’s scariest moments are in Navarrette’s unpredictable physicalities, framed with an ominousness that’s like staring into a crackling glitch.
Although the tension is sometimes muddled by more juvenile humour – cat sandwiches and the looming doom of a “boy’s night” – it’s clear that Barker has a genuine understanding of creepy aesthetics. His vision feels steeped in the cursed dreamscapes and disillusionments of internet culture, something we’re likely to see more of (and already have with Backrooms) as a new generation of Reddit-raised filmmakers emerge.
Does the film’s success so far also mean that studios like Blumhouse will prioritise more original horror ideas over paranormal dolls and CGI demons? We can only wish – just not on a willow branch.
Obsession is out in cinemas now.