Since its premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival, the most anticipated title in horror has been Curry Barker’s Obsession. Even before most people had seen the movie, Barker – a former TikTok creator whose penchant for the absurd helped launch his career as a horror filmmaker – had enjoyed a level of directorial celebrity not often bestowed upon emerging filmmakers. But Obsession is here now for all of us to judge, and the biggest surprise for Barker’s breakout movie might just be that it still somehow manages to surpass the hype.
Ever since he can remember, Nikki (Inde Navarrette) has been the most important person in Bear’s (Michael Johnston) life. Whether it’s working together at a local music store or spending their evenings crushing trivia with friends, Bear and Nikki are inseparable, and Nikki has always been someone that Bear can look for when times get tough. So it’s no surprise that, for almost just as long, Bear’s friends have listened to him quietly pine for Nikki, who he refuses to ask out without finding the perfect moment to confess his feelings.
When Nikki hints that her interest in him might only be platonic, Bear does something silly. He pulls out a One Wish Willow – a novelty item he purchased at a nearby curiosity shop – and tosses out a bitter wish that Nikki will start loving him more than anyone in the world. And something does seem to change in Nikki; she shows up at his door upset, seemingly coming down off a bad trip from their most recent night out. Nikki asks if Bear can keep an eye on her for the evening, and then comes onto him, leading the two of them to, finally, have a heartfelt conversation about their feelings.
It’s everything that Bear has ever wanted, and so what if Nikki comes on a little strong? Or has dissociative spells where she seems unsure of where she is? Or even lets out the occasional blood-curdling scream as she recoils from the very sight of Bear? I mean, no relationship is perfect out of the gate.
From the moment Bear makes his wish, Obsession belongs to Inde Navarrette. Navarrette plays Nikki as a tightly wound nightmare, a soul being ripped apart by a fragile man. Given the praise you’ve already heard for her performance, you might expect Obsession to be a film where the director points the camera at an actor and gets the hell out of her way. But what is most surprising about the film is the glorious and grotesque synergy on display. Nikki is more than just expression and voice; Barker and Navarrette work in perfect harmony, crafting an all-time horror character as much through filmic elements as through performance.
Throughout the film, Barker often shoots Nikki in shadow, obscuring Navarrette’s facial features and forcing us to key into the discord between what Nikki is saying and how she is saying it. Barker also plays with horror in his depth of field, allowing Nikki to linger in the background of scenes to heighten her obsession with Bear. Meanwhile, sound supervisor David Kitchens – whose team is instrumental in augmenting Navarrette’s performance – builds horrifying reservoirs of rage in Nikki as she is split between fulfilling and fighting the wish at every turn. Nikki spends a lot of the movie breaking down offscreen, and it is totally fair to compare Navarrette and Barker to actor-director duos like Linda Blair and William Friedkin in terms of how well performance and production work together.
And while Obsession may be bundled – and deservedly so – alongside the work of modern horror darlings like Zach Cregger, the film is pure melodrama at heart. Barker leans into the expressive nature of his actors, allowing Obsession to favor heightened emotions and domestic spaces over in-world logic. It’s one of the film’s many charms that everyone Bear encounters accepts the power of the One Wish Willow at face value, but Barker never tries to establish a consistent reason to Nikki’s behavior. Nikki – or the thing that looks like Nikki – clings to whatever she can to pressure Bear, and the causes of her displays matter far, far less than their grotesque sincerity.
To his credit, Barker also demonstrates an understanding of found family and friendship that eclipses other young filmmakers (here’s looking at you, Danny and Michael Philippou). Rather than hand wave away her actions in favor of their own immediate problems, Bear and Nikki’s friends intervene, showing escalating concern for both Nikki and Bear as they develop what appears to be a toxic codependency. Most modern horror films treat onscreen friendships as something to strip away, but Bear and Nikki are surrounded by people who seem to genuinely care about them.
Perhaps the biggest surprise in the film is not Barker’s work as writer-director but his focus as an editor. This is Barker’s second feature-length film, and Milk & Serial, his 2024 debut film that plays a bit like a Gen Z adaptation of Man Bites Dog, certainly proved that his sense of timing works beyond short form videos. But there’s such economy to the movements of Obsession; the film never lets Nikki become too familiar, and Barker exhibits a sart preference for sudden and terribly effective bursts of violence. There isn’t an ounce of fat in Obsession, and Barker shows that keeping your audience a little punch drunk on horror is one of the most effective ways to build a feature.
Early in the film, Bear asks Nikki about the book she’s working on, asking her to share details about her romance novel. “It’s not romance,” Nikki corrects. “It’s a love story.” Barker may be winking a bit the audience there, but it’s true: Obsession is not about romance. It’s a love story, one that explores – with humor and with horror – the many ways in which love can curdle when wielded without selflessness. It isn’t often that a film can ride a wave of festival hype into theaters and still manage to overdeliver, but Obsession proves Barker is the best kind of young filmmaker: one who can back up his swagger with confidence onscreen. Here’s to a bright future for the latest in Hollywood’s long line of les enfants terribles. [4.5/5]
