If toxic relationships are the new black, this past year’s crop of horror-comedy hybrids have been… mostly beige. Together, Oh Hi, Companion, Keeper, The Roses—pick a title, any title. All promising twisted romance, all kinda boring.
Finally, an oasis in the middle of the desert has emerged. Someone figured out how to extend a metaphor. Someone managed to take a simple cautionary tale and turn it into full-blown carnage. Obsession is the palate cleanser I’ve been praying for.
Before the movie even started, I felt a kinship, like I was in good hands when the writer/director Curry Barker sauntered on stage in a dark theatre with sunglasses on. He had a devilish smirk on as he introduced the movie, and told the audience flatly, “This movie fucking sucks.” The room laughed, a little nervously. Barker knew exactly what he was about to unleash on us innocent festival folk.
Our main character, Bear (Michael Johnston), is a meek, painfully nice guy. You know the type: existential spiral around his manic-pixie-dream-girl, terrified of confessing his feelings, eternally rehearsing them in his head. Nikki (Inde Navarrette) has probably been preparing her gentle “you’re like a brother” speech for years. After some bro-to-bro encouragement from his friend Ian (Cooper Tomlinson), Bear decides that a group trivia night will be the perfect time to profess his love for her.
Earlier, Bear stopped in a metaphysical shop to get a crystal necklace for Nikki; a gift he’s sure will sweep her off her feet. Instead, a glowing toy perched on a dusty shelf caught his eye, the One Wish Willow. The way it gleams under the overhead lights, you can feel it pulsing with intent. Novelty and innocent looking enough, but Barker has confidence in the audience to know a Monkey’s Paw when they see one.
Bear seals his fate when he snaps the Willow in half in a fugue state of rejection. As the wood breaks, he grunts, “I wish Nikki loved me more than anyone in the world,” it’s equal parts desperate simp behaviour and an unwitting invitation for doom. The theatre exhaled collectively, all bearing witness to something inevitably ugly. Barker revels in the algebra of consequence, never falling back on jump scares or cheap tricks. He has total control of this cautionary tale, imploding it into demolition of desire, trapping us in the fallout.
Nikki’s descent into a girl who loves some guy more than life itself else starts small and, frankly, not abnormal. Co-dependence, clinging to his arm, double texts, little outbursts when he tries to go to boy’s night. We’ve all been there. Then the fuse ignites: stage-five clinger becomes unmoored possession. As a viewer, you feel caught in this chaotic juggling act of passion and violence. Blood, sweat, broken glass, piss—all smeared together in the name of love. Barker lets it all erupt, and holy shit, it erupts.
After a litany of insane behaviour, Bear is desperate for Nikki to just be normal. Everyone wants a girlfriend until they start “acting crazy.” He pleads with her, “Please, no more weird shit.” Then she proceeds to shit on the carpet so he doesn’t leave her. But that’s just one tiny blip I can offer you, a sneak peak of what unfolds. A spin-the-bottle game goes horrifyingly wrong. A cement block featured prominently. I can’t say more. All I can say is I’ve never heard a theatre be so audible. Screams, whoops, gasps, shouts. Everyone’s hands were either clutching their armrests or covering their eyes.
The visceral reactions are compliments to Navarrette’s performance as Nikki. She’s a scream queen revelation—every flicker of her eyes, every body movement, every slow smile that stretches into something sinister. She keeps this devilish girl utterly human; vulnerable, hideous, manic. She doesn’t play the ‘crazy girl’ like a trope for laughs or shock, she commits fully. No showboating, just a girl trying to prove her existence and devotion by any means necessary.
And then there’s Bear. He simped too close to the sun. Johnston could’ve been a punchline, a brick wall for his counterpart to shine. Instead, his performance tells the most tragic tale. We follow him as he patiently and quietly breaks down, and it’s genuinely painful. Sure, his idealistic infatuation was sometimes infuriating, but it was never caricature, it was always real. As Nikki escalates, the balance flips. The dude you used to roll your eyes at suddenly becomes the one you ache for. Johnston plays him with this hollowed-out sadness, tortured by the very thing he once thought would save him.
Watching this film unfold, I started to realize how rare it is. Sure, the trailer may appear like a run-of-the-mill horror comedy you can add to the streaming on Shudder pile, but I promise you this one is different. It’s actually a tragedy dressed up in horror-comedy drag. It oscillates between darkly funny, downright terrifying, and full of humanity. Other than the actual gimmick, there are no gimmicks needed. In the theatre, I was physically leaning forward, wincing, laughing, holding my breath, because this movie will chew you up and spit you back out. Unlike the other toxic-love films you’ve see lately, Obsession actually makes you feel consumed. And it’s glorious.