A young man makes a wish for the love of his crush. It doesn’t go well for anyone in Curry Barker’s bleak but captivating Obsession. Now on wide release, it also played at the Seattle International Film Festival.
TW Animal death, along with everything else you’d expect.
When I watched Curry Barker’s hour-long film on YouTube, Milk & Serial, I was wowed. The 2024 film was quick and cheaply budgeted (800 bucks!), a little piece of nastiness. One that showed amazing promise for the budding filmmaker, putting the raw talent out to the world (along with his comedy shorts “that’s a bad idea,” featuring Cooper Tomlinson in both films). It worked, people saw it, shared it, and two years later, Curry Barker has a Blumhouse-backed film (although it was complete before they came on) in regular, wide release for all to see his twisted visions of personal relationships, or lack thereof, in the disturbing, uncompromising, and uncomfortable Obsession. The story of a “nice guy” who finally gets the girl he wants but soon finds the wish is tainted played at the Seattle International Film Festival last week, thus the tag, but it’s in wide release as of May 15th.
Obsession is bleak, the Feel Bad movie of the year. There is little respite, no levity for the characters or the audience. Whatever humor is to be mined is deeply dark, highly uncomfortable “giggle because I have a fucked up sense of humor” sort of aspect I fully expect Barker intended based upon the sense of himself stamped into both of his films. Obsession is a film of bad choices made worse at each turn, spiraling down into an inevitably blood-soaked, soul-destroying end. I wouldn’t consider a depressing course of events too spoiler. It’s clear as the story begins to move, Barker has no intention to gift his protagonist a happy ending.
Note protagonist, not hero. There’s little positive in Bear (Barron, but usually referred to in the diminutive). A sad sack shuffling through his underlit life, his sole obsession, that we see at least, is Nikki, his coworker and close friend. Without ever saying it directly, for that would be too crass and on the nose, although we know the actions, he’s a “Nice Guy,” who lives for that next interaction of a woman who doesn’t see him as more than a good friend, a guy who thinks “if I keep doing nice things and eventually tell her how I feel, my life is complete.” When he uses a One Wish Willow plot device to get what he wants and force her love. With his actions in Nikki, or just as often inactions, fumbling through every choice, a rudderless man who reveals a monster in Hamlet-esque refusals to act, instead hemming and hawing over what he knows he needs to do. True, he’s a depressing person to follow the whole film, we reel at his reactions. Barker has no intention of making him right at any point. Michael Joshnson is excellent, really selling the shock, stammers, and situations. He’s all too real, skincrawlingly prescient. But this is Inde Navarrette’s movie.
Superman & Lois’s Inde Navarette, as Nikki, is a true revelation. She has amazing control over her body and voice, selling every terrifying moment. The difference between pre-control and possessed Nikki is astonishing. How she plays the levels, the over-loving girlfriend with the terrified and trapped true self underneath, screaming to be released, is astonishing. Vivacious and sharp with a twinkle of mischief in her eye, it’s easy to see why Bear has been crushing for seven years. Under the control, she changes in a beat, twisting and turning a performance in a moment. Absolutely go for broke, and fully immersive. It’s the sort of performance horror fans like me will gripe when the awards system ignores her in seven months. She reminds me of Isabelle Adjani’s bonkers and unforgettable performance in Andrzej Zulawski’s rhyming title of Possession (perhaps the ultimate Feel Bad movie). There’s a Deadite energy in how she moves, acts, shifts, and transforms herself. It’s an incredible physical performance backed by vocal gymnastics, from sweet to scream; it’s a shifting, horrific highwater performance. That monologue! You’ll know it when you hear it, and a moment of talking in bed. Wow. How she plays the levels, the over-loving girlfriend with the terrified and trapped true self underneath, screaming to be released, is astonishing.
It’s a film sitting uncomfortably; a story about the cruelty of control. Nikki is a pawn for Bear and Barker. One may say she doesn’t get her catharsis, remaining a prop, but that’s what makes it even more grim and powerful. But in real life, too many people never get out of non-supernatural control cycles, and that’s heartbreaking and terrible. I will admit Obsession is perhaps a bit one-note; it revels in How Do We Make Nikki More Fucked Up more than truly exploring the ideas presented. But digging deeper might force an awkwardness in the telling. In his script, Barker is better at the big ideas over line minutiae, and that might extend to further details. But from Milk & Serial to Obsession, he has a better grasp of it all, so here’s to the next. No matter, the film is propped up and expanded by the two leads, especially in Navarrette.
I’m curious how general audiences will take Obsession. Either I’ve seen too many movies, or the film is pretty open in choreographing where everything will fall, but it finds the unconventional shifts in the conventional matters and arc. I heard my audience react with “what the fukcs” and “Really?” when it did turn stranger on an expected concept, or didn’t quite go as expected (cue the woman next to me who incorrectly predicted just about every action). I especially loved a turn that would normally be the exposition giver; okay, this moment is directly funny, but with a sharp edge. A welcome sign Barker has no intention to play nice.
Barker builds the bleak with the technical. Deep browns and darks permeate cinematographer Taylor Clemon’s color palette choices, lending a sickly, thick air of dread and depression. No bright colors to be seen, save the stark red of blood. Barker and Clemon make specific camera choices, just off the norm, with perfectly set-up edits by Barker to drive up the tension and unease. Repeated sequences sitting in cars build to a breaking point. Barker holds on to the horrid, not letting anyone get away, including the audience, but also keeping certain shocks to the right moment for reveal.
It’s amazing to find a filmmaker who can get so much from so little: Milk & Serial cost a mere $800. In comparison, Obsession’s $750,000 is a great deal, but nothing in the mainstream film world; Barker pulled something astounding, but it’s a small, simple, straightforward film when one looks at it. A limited cast (I haven’t mentioned Megan Lawless and Andy Richter, following his old pal Conan to non-comedies after If I had Legs I’d Kick You), locations, and effects keep things down and tight.
Curry Baker’s Obsession is an uncompromising bit of nastiness. With a clear, horrific vision and a star-making performance from Navarrette, it can be placed up on the shelf next to last year’s Bring Her Back in the “that was AMAZING, but I gotta wait to watch it again” shelf of new and powerful voices in filmmaking. I cannot wait to see what Barker does next with Anything but Ghosts and his entry in the Texas Chain Saw Massacre series.
Obsession is in wide release now, but played as part of the Seattle International Film Festival 2026. For more information, see siff.net/festival.