YouTube filmmaker and comedy sketch artist, Curry Barker, makes his cinema debut with Obsession, a twisted cautionary tale of a selfish wish gone horribly wrong.
This is far from Barker’s first foray into the horror genre – there are several horror shorts in his online back catalogue, with his first full feature, 2024’s Milk and Serial, carrying their modern, internet-era energies forward into an hour-long concept.
‘When I have a crush on a guy, no-one knows…’
Of all the genres to choose from, YouTube’s horror landscape has proven especially fruitful, with countless independent short films for the avid fan to dig into.
I’ve seen more than a fair helping of them over the years, and they all seem to carry (to some extent) an admirable air of scrappiness and bold creativity – each one brisk, punchy and unfettered by studio influences. Some have been adapted into fairly clunky full-length remakes – their tight, to-the-point concepts diluted over the course of two hours – but we seem to be reaching an interesting turning point where big name studios are slackening their ropes a little.
Given the cinema release of fellow YouTube filmmaker (and critic) Chris Stuckmann’s Shelby Oaks in 2024 and A24’s upcoming Backrooms adaptation directed by the series’ own creator, Kane Parsons, there appears to be a growing understanding of the art and effort at play behind these digital releases. YouTube is no longer solely the domain of amateur filmmakers. Instead, it’s the proving ground for the young, burgeoning talent that will become the feature-film directors of the next decade. It’s an exciting shift in the industry’s perception, and it’s fantastic to see these filmmakers’ work begin to trickle onto cinema screens as we speak.
Barker’s Obsession premiered at last year’s Toronto International Film Festival, leaving waves in its wake, and was swiftly picked up by Focus Features for an international release. It stars Michael Johnston as Bear, an awkward twenty-something working a dull job at his local music store. He doesn’t seem to have a great many hobbies, instead spending his free time with his co-workers, all three of them close friends.
They clock out for the day, drink the night away together and then do it all again the next morning, though each of them wants for something more, whether it’s a career as a writer or the lifeline of a getaway to a good college. While his best friend Ian is supportive and the boss’ daughter Sarah is charmingly down-to-earth, he can’t help but crush on the effortlessly cool Nikki (Inde Navarette). He’d love to be able to confess how he feels, but just can’t seem to find the confidence to do so.
That’s where the film’s MacGuffin – the One Wish Willow – comes in. Available at your local witchy crystal shop (if you can stand the place’s microclimate of incense for long enough to buy one), simply snap this branch in two, make your wish and that dream will come true, for better or for worse. To Bear, that wish comes easy – he wants Nikki to love him more than anyone in the entire world – but the new reality that that wish weaves may prove difficult indeed.
We’ve seen this kind of story before – even in terms of digital heritage, Nikki’s transformation into an obsessive female stalker reminded me of YouTube creator Laina’s eerie alter ego, Overly Attached Girlfriend – but Barker tells it well here. Obsession’s greatest strength lies in something as simple as the double meaning of its title – whose capital O obsession is the scariest here, Bear’s or Nikki’s?
Rather than falling into cliché and allowing our protagonist to be the poor, suffering victim unable to grapple with the affections of this strange devil woman, Barker leaves us well aware of Bear’s own hand in his predicament. This isn’t some Misery style, calculated effort cooked up over time; all of this newfound horror stems from his choice to completely strip Nikki of her agency and make her mind up for her rather than consider the prospect of a rejection. In doing so, he’s created his own personal ultra-fan.
Recently, I championed Hokum as a good example of an unlikeable protagonist. That film’s Ohm Bauman is tame in comparison to Bear, but Barker and Johnston do just enough here to ensure that we don’t completely lose a connection with our main character. If you’re not rooting for the core character of your horror movie to survive, then the stakes will simply plummet.
There’s a real sense of tragedy involved for multiple members of the film’s small cast. Bear has likeable qualities and would probably be able to find a good life for himself by steering well clear of the Willow, but is lured in by temptation. His frequent visits to in-universe equivalents of Reddit and ChatGPT feel especially telling coming from someone as tuned into the current internet landscape as Barker – these sites and tools have dark potential in the wrong hands, as proven in our own world by manosphere morons and incessant incels.
Though I appreciated that extra colour in terms of his characterisation – neither shining hero nor completely dastardly villain – I did find myself wanting Barker to take his protagonist to task for his choices a little more. Bear suffers as a result of his wish – as you’d expect, he’s the central part of a horror movie, at the end of the day – but I felt as though we could have ran with the idea of his self-centred nature more and found some more mileage out those conversations, because the subtext at play there is really interesting.
Of the film’s performances, Navarette’s is a seriously strong horror debut. Given the premise, this film was really going to live or die on the strength of Nikki’s character and she certainly gives everything she can to us to try and make this role not just unsettling but credible, too. She’s helped along by a compelling first act, which strikes a comfy chord reminiscent of something like Scott Pilgrim with the slight awkwardness of the group dynamic among these young professionals before taking a sudden, eerie turn, capitalising on that well-established false sense of security.
Things just slip further and further into uncanny unease from there, Nikki’s movements jittery, quick and unnatural; her mood swings dramatic to say the least. In her best moments, there’s a gut-churning sense of the real Nikki trapped somewhere inside, struggling to break free – an idea that goes hand in hand with the film’s greater themes.
I did, however, feel as though Barker had slightly overstepped the mark in terms of the characterisation of his female star. There’s a very deliberate sense of emotional whiplash on display, with Bear desperately trying to keep up with Nikki as she blows hot and cold between her highest highs and the lowest lows – flashing a hideous grin one moment and sobbing the next. I can see the intention behind that manic direction – she’s quite literally a woman possessed – and Navarette never fails to deliver what’s been asked of her by her director, but I did feel a tonal disconnect between the horrific undertones and just how changeable and even somewhat childlike she could be at times.
Beyond that, Barker’s direction is more than capable, with a few moments likely to make you shiver. His use of shadows is interesting (the way he manages to obscure faces even in a well-lit room reminded me of the doorstep scene from The Strangers) and there’s some grin-inducing fun to be had by paying close attention to things and characters moving and shifting in the blurred background.
He’s clearly a director who understands the potential of good horror for a bit of guilty schadenfreude, too – at points I didn’t know whether to laugh or grit my teeth. I imagine his efforts to make Nikki so wildly changeable stem from a similar frame of mind, but Obsession really, really sings when it sticks close to the reality of the situation that its characters are in and the existential crises of dabbling with powers a mere Reddit user could never hope to control.
BBFC: Rated 18 for strong violence, gore.
Obsession is in cinemas now.
