Obsession (2026): The Ghost of ‘Elevated Horror’

              While some critics argue that the term ‘elevated horror’ has outlived its usefulness, I find it useful to describe the wave of films released over the past few years that share a certain look, deal with certain themes, and are written with a specific worldview. Curry Barker’s feature directorial debut is one of those movies, and it’s almost a perfect case study for why I wish directors would let that entire movement go. Centered around Bear using a supernatural toy to win the affection of his crush, only to get far more than he bargained for, it’s a unique film about consent, control and corruption—of desire and morals. Despite its many technical strengths, the architecture of the story, along with some of Barker’s visual choices, hint at a lot of underlying contradictions.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJYoN-fX2j0

              The premise of a wish gone wrong isn’t exactly new, but Barker’s execution invites a lot of social commentary into the viewer’s interpretation. Seeing a man essentially force a woman to love him so much that she places him above everything else in her life, including her own safety, creates space for discourse around consent. Nikki never chose to be with Bear. This is why, every now and then, the ‘real’ version of herself surfaces, terrified and confused, before being overpowered by the entity Bear invited into her body with his wish. Throughout the film, we see Bear ignore very real and immediate signs that something is deeply, seriously wrong with his new girlfriend. His desire to control her is so strong he refuses to do anything even if it means endangering himself and the girl he claims to love. Predictably, when things spiral out of Bear’s control, it’s hard to feel bad for him. The film’s structure and grammar make it clear Bear is not a likeable guy. Maybe this is why I’ve seen so many critics do a feminist reading of this text. With Nikki’s right to her own body being overshadowed by Bear’s desire for her, in an era where Roe v. Wade has been rolled back in several states across the country, it’s definitely a movie that reflects aspects of our own reality; but there are several moments throughout the film that contain artistic choices which make me wonder if a feminist reading is giving Barker’s movie too much credit.

              That’s not to say the visuals aren’t effective. DP Taylor Clemons puts on an absolute masterclass in terms of lighting. Once possessed, Nikki is backlit a lot, causing her face to often be obscured in shadow. Coupled with the center composition a lot of frames contain in which the camera slowly pushes in as the sound design lets us sit in tense silence, it’s a great way to make our hearts beat just a bit faster as we wait to see what’s going to happen. I really do hate the color grading, though; so many of these so-called elevated horror films (Longlegs, Hereditary, Weapons, etc.) all contain a kind of desaturated look that vacillates between a warm yellow hue and a cold blue tone. I understand it’s supposed to communicate a bleak atmosphere, but it just looks so flat and lifeless. Give me Luciano Tovoli’s work on Suspiria (1977) over this any day of the week. The camera work also hints at deeper issues in how the film approaches gender and violence.

              It’s one thing for only women to be hurt or maimed brutally in this film, it’s another to show that violence the way Barker and Clemons do. Yes, two men die, but one is by OD and the other gets shot in the head shortly after entering a room. Only women have their faces bashed in, chests carved etc. This could be an attempt at showing how disregarding consent ultimately hurts all parties involved, especially women; but something about the way the camera lingers as one character is bludgeoned with a brick feels fetishistic. We see more of that gore than Bear’s reaction to it, making me wonder who’s POV we’re supposed to have in that moment and why the story would assume that perspective. The character’s disfigured corpse is later presented with full-frontal nudity—another thing reserved exclusively for female characters—and I can’t see how that element really serves the story. Despite the script’s clear interest in exploring gender relations and toxic masculinity, the camera choosing what to show, and how to show it, almost feels at odds with that mission.

              This is also reflected in the larger architecture of the story (SPOILERS AHEAD!). Yes, Bear dies, but him overdosing in Nikki’s arms almost resembles Michelangelo’s Pieta, which displays a young Mary cradling Jesus’ dead body. In this way, the movie is aesthetically re-centering Bear while narratively condemning him. When he finally dies, the spell is over and Nikki wakes up to find herself surrounded by the dead bodies of her friends, the credits rolling as she screams and sobs. I don’t want to take away from the amazing play with shadows, or Inde Navarrette’s stunningly embodied performance, contorting her body and moving as though she really was being controlled by some otherworldly force, but this ending feels cruel and purposeless to the story’s larger commentary. Sure, it could say that women are left to deal with the consequences of callous, cowardly men, but is that really saying anything new in a post-MeToo world? Do we need another movie by a male director to say this?

              Again, I really think this is a very well-crafted film. The many artisans who labored so intensely over it should be proud; where it falls apart for me is the writing. It’s less about Bear facing the consequences of his actions than him seeing other people do so. This film’s indulgence in misogynistic violence ultimately clashes with its apparent critique of toxic masculinity. Obsession is in theaters today, but I actually think your time (and money) would be better spent on another movie.