Euronews Culture Movie of the Week: “Obsession” – Don’t Always Trust Bear

The most isolated (and most dangerous) corners of the internet are populated by young men whose only wish is for a woman to adore and obey them. But, as the adage goes – and as horror films never cease to remind us – be careful what you wish for…

Obsession is the feature-length debut of 26-year-old YouTuber Curry Barker, who caught the attention of horror fans in 2024 with his micro-budget online film, Milk & Serial.

Classic tale of a wish gone wrong, in the vein of films like Deathdream, Wishmaster et The Monkey’s Paw, Obsession offers a resolutely contemporary variation on this starting point: a film that balances horrific gags and psychological darkness to crush the distorted vision of self-esteem of a generation raised online.

Bear (Michael Johnston) is the perfect “nice boy”, the type who wears grandfather vests, cries in front of cats and systematically offers to take you home. He’s also hopelessly in love with his friend and colleague Nikki (Inde Navarrette) – something no amount of repeated awkward confessions can get him to say out loud.

Sad and dejected, he buys a “One Wish Willow”, a gadget found in one of those small esoteric shops that sell incense, crystals and books on the alignment of the stars. He wants Nikki to love him more than anyone else in the world.

Almost immediately, the wish seems granted – but Nikki is no longer herself. She is erratic and disoriented, like a ventriloquist who has lost control of his puppet’s movements. And the situation only gets worse as their relationship spirals out of control, his behavior becoming more and more possessive, chilling and violent.

As Bear becomes more panicked, he discovers that he cannot cancel the wish: he only has the choice between living like this for the rest of his life or committing suicide.

He probably should have read the terms and conditions on the back of that box of bewitched willow…

What makes Obsession what’s most fascinating isn’t its central gimmick, but the way the film toys with our expectations. While the beginning suggests that Bear will be the victim – of a one-sided love then of a real manic pixie dream girl -, the story suddenly turns away from him to focus on Nikki and become something much darker.

Possessed by both a demon and a boy for whom she did not have these feelings, she becomes a prisoner of her own body, deprived of all autonomy and reduced to being nothing more than a sexual and domestic object. In some shots, her face seems to almost melt, as if she is nothing more than a withered shell of her former self.

The concept is absolutely terrifying, and all the more visceral thanks to Navarrette’s remarkable performance. Perpetually on the verge of a tearful monstrosity, his frozen smiles and furtive movements in the shadows embody both demonic possession and the absolute despair of losing self-control.

As such, the most deadly obsession in the film is never really Nikki’s, but rather Bear’s, from the start.

A number of films have already focused on the murky effects of obsessive desire, Fatal Attraction et Single White Female at the head, but unlike these, Barker’s story resembles less an isolated extreme case than a commentary on these insidious beliefs which today irrigate podcasts with millions of views.

In one particularly disturbing scene, Bear stands in his bedroom doorway and hears the voice of Nikki – the real Nikki – tiny, begging him to kill her. And yet, for a good part of the film, he refuses to admit that the sudden and extreme affection she has for him could be anything other than real, brushing aside the concerns of his friends, who fear that he is taking advantage of someone in a vulnerable situation.

Even the name Bear, which seems to echo an old viral debate where women said they would prefer to be alone in the woods with a bear rather than with a man. Had they thought of the men dressed as bears? Those who appear more harmless, but whose displayed gentleness masks more sinister insecurities?

Where the film fails is in not venturing further into Nikki’s head, preferring to put her blandest character in the foreground, with whom it becomes increasingly difficult to feel empathy.

If there is no lack of hemoglobin – including a scene with a window and a head which we suspect is going to arrive, but which surprises all the same -, the most frightening moments of the film are due to Navarrette’s unpredictable gestures, filmed with a menacing darkness which gives feels like fixing a crackling bug.

If the tension is sometimes parasitized by more juvenile humor – cat sandwiches and the threat of a “guys’ night” – it is clear that Barker has a real understanding of the aesthetics of unease. His vision seems to be bathed in the cursed dreamscapes and disillusionments of internet culture, a terrain that we risk seeing even more explored (and which we have already seen with Backrooms) as a new generation of filmmakers raised on Reddit emerges.

Does the success of the film also mean that studios like Blumhouse will now favor more original horror ideas rather than paranormal dolls and CGI demons? We can only hope for it – but without asking a willow branch.

Obsession is currently in theaters.

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