Publication Date: 05-16-2026

Obsession (2026) review

Dir. Curry Barker

By: Steve Pulaski

Rating: ★★★

Sandwiched between the release of Damian McCarthy’s chilling folktale Hokum and Kane Parsons’ upcoming directorial debut Backrooms is Curry Barker’s sophomore effort Obsession, confirming that this is officially a “Weird White Boy Summer.” I’m all in.

In 2024, Barker made waves with his YouTube-released debut Milk & Serial, a memorably creepy exposé on two dudes vying for internet fame; it was shot with an $800 budget. Following its premiere at Toronto Film Festival last year, Obsession was acquired by Focus Features for a hefty $14 million, and has now vaunted Barker into the commendably crowded pack of visionary horror filmmakers who are taking the genre as a whole to stratospheric new heights.

It’s as if — like the main character in his latest — the 26-year-old Alabama native made a wish and became an overnight success. But that would undercut was has made him so successful in the short-term. Barker’s savviness with lo-fi lighting and framing coupled with believable dialog amongst Gen Z characters turns Obsession into an instant winner. Make no mistake, however, this is an exhausting sit, filled with dread, ear-piercing sound design, and a couple of scenes so stressful, I yearned for a Xanax and a nap once the credits rolled — even they were ominous in their analog horror format.

The story centers around Bear (Michael Johnston, who looks like a young Dave Franco at certain angles, and a neurotic Daniel Jones at others), who harbors intense feelings for his longtime friend, Nikki (Inde Navarrette of 13 Reasons Why and Superman & Lois fame). The two work at a local music store with their mutuals, Ian (Cooper Tomlinson, Barker’s longtime collaborator) and Sarah (Megan Lawless), but while Bear appreciates that Nikki is always amiable and supportive, he yearns for romantic attention from her that he isn’t getting.

Instead of gifting Nikki the “One Wish Willow” — a novelty toy that grants one wish to whomever breaks it in half — as he intended, he decides to wish that Nikki loved him “more than anything in the fucking world.” Instantly, Nikki is unable to be apart from him. She becomes aggressively dependent and disarmingly docile, not at all the woman he wanted to fall in love with him. While Bear likes the bawdy sex and cuddle-time they have, even he can’t deny that this version of Nikki is unstable and haunted. It’s as if there’s a possession-like force that has overtaken her, and the “real” Nikki occasionally reappears, if only for a few fleeting seconds at a time; like a glitch that can sometimes override the once-independent young woman.

The time is now to start the Oscar buzz for Inde Navarrette. What an extraordinary and tireless performance she delivers. She doubles-down on the “manic” in “manic pixie dream girl,” with a milewide plastic smile that can evaporate in an instant and give way to the hellacious screams of a dying banshee. Overtime, she loses her agency to the point where she seemingly has no control over her body, nor her bodily functions. Navarrette disintegrates herself into a hollowed-out shell of a woman; with all the warmth and assurance of an AI-created sex-pet. Just a damn impressive turn all around that will likely be remembered as one of the most fearless performances in any horror movie of this decade. I’m going to need to see Navarrette’s Nikki get the same kind of love as Amy Madigan’s devilish turn as Aunt Gladys in Weapons.

While some of the nuances of Nikki’s transformation lack clarity — I was not only disgusted by what happens not once but twice to the corpse of Bear’s cat, but also mystified as to why the second shocking action was done in the first place — Barker’s script is a riveting cautionary tale minus the preachiness. It plays like a stern warning to those whiny young men who believe they’ve been “friend-zoned.” Shot in 1.50:1 aspect ratio (recalling the 4:3 “letterboxed” format), Barker’s framing is claustrophobically tight, especially in the dimly lit interiors cinematographer Taylor Clemens employs. Sometimes, Clemens renders Navarrette’s figure a blob of blackness even when she’s the focal point of a shot. At others, Johnston is superimposed in the foreground while an active background remains visible, and you can’t help but keep your eyes focused on Nikki, for her gaze towards Bear is penetrating, even if it’s in the distance. If Barker proved he could do a lot with a little with Milk & Serial, he uses Obsession to show he can stretch a budget 1/64th that of a blockbuster like a limo to make something aesthetically unnerving in conjunction with pointed writing.

Starring: Michael Johnston, Inde Navarrette, Cooper Tomlinson, Megan Lawless, and Andy Richter. Directed by: Curry Barker.