Toronto 2025 Review: OBSESSION Gleefully Transgresses Relationship Boundaries with Hellish Precision And Cringe

Cute and apprehensive, but passively sweet Baron, whose friends call him Bear, has one last chance to avoid the Friend Zone with his co-worker Nikki.
 
Quietly, inelegantly, he lusts over her, while outwardly he can only simp in ways that generate self loathing. If any sign of masculinity exists in Bear, it is submerged by the pharmacological library of pills spilling out of in his medicine cabinet, with adverse effects on his confidence, and tragically, his cat.The kitty’s demise by diazepam is a sign and a warning that the film is not going to be as meek as its protagonist. You have been warned. It gets worse.



Bear’s post-high school friend circle, two girls and two boys consisting of Ian and Sarah, along with Nikki, spend their days only half-working at a musical instrument shop. They bar hop at night. Bear is, naturally, the designated driver.
 
The exact moment depicted here is one of those very few lazy, luxury pauses in life; a way-station before getting serious, in career, education or relationship. His pal Ian half-heartedly tosses a few pick-up artist techniques Bear’s way before a “not a double date” post-work trivia night hang at their local.
 
Instead, Bear tries to do something genuinely nice for Nikki: buying her a gift which accidentally sets in motion a darker shortcut he did not even know he wanted, but one that grants his wish. As with any Monkey’s Paw, in this incarnation the charmingly kitsch “One Wish Willow” -- the retro-packaging plays a catchy little tune when opened as if to offset all the warnings printed on the back -- this gift will make his life, and his relationships, much, much worse.



Obsession is as much a horror-comedy as it is a stress-induced anxiety attack. This Twilight-Zone inversion of Romeo & Juliet might have inadvertently pioneered a new genre form: the Unromantic Comedy. It's a cringeworthy and terrifying look at asymmetrical relationships, how that desperate kind of puppy love manifests itself in awkward abasement, and self-destruction. It's also about how unrestrained neediness generates disgust in the other party, and triggers a flight reflex that the modern social contract denies any kind of grace or relief.
 
There is a reason why people ghost one another on dating apps. The movie is a masterclass in casually weaponized manipulation in ways that young people are only just discovering is both possible and believe is necessary to get what they want. Be careful what you wish for. 



First-time director Curry Barker demonstrates a real knack for using tried-and-true genre tropes in fresh ways: The exotic curious shop with the magical artefacts designed to fuck up a boring suburbanite's week, that familiar scene where the lead pours his heart out directly to the camera that ends up being a only practice run when the camera is turned around, the deeply unhelpful technical support call, the stalker’s church-like shrine as climatic show-down location, the Cassandra-like hero frantically trying to be understood before it is too late.
 
He also has a gift for a good set-piece, the deceptive set-up, the choreography of a scene, and the payoff that is both surprising and inevitable. A crucial early moment where Bear makes his move from the driver's seat of his car while Nikki heads into her house is a minor formalist delight, as it plays in drawn out circles. Even better is when a similar uncomfortable seduction is echoed later to disastrous and gory effect.



Michael Johnston, as Baron, has a deeply expressive face, falling somewhere between a young Billy Crudup and Robert Pattinson. It is surprising that the has worked mainly as a voice actor up until this point, given how much information he can convey in a quiet close-up. Over the course of the film, he runs the emotional gamut from wallflower to recalcitrant man of action to anxious regret to martyr.

Meanwhile, Inde Navarrette, as Nikki, has an even more tumultuous series of modes. As the indifferent romantic interest, she evolves into a needy co-dependent monster; her form is both clingy and stifling, or across the room hidden in shadow. Her cadence, body language, and facial expressions shift in an flash, is the pulley system that keeps the move in motion.
 
The precise timing of such things are crucial to making the story work, as it true for any magic trick, horror film, or comedy. Obsession is all three, and more than the sum it its parts, mainly due to how real and convincing the character emotional beats are juxtaposed against the batshit farce of the whole situation. Barker does not let his actors or his audience off the hook once the nightmare situationship is set in motion, and revels in the ripple-like repercussions.
 
Along with Together and Companion, it has been a banner year for ‘toxic relationship horror.’ Hell, it has been a banner year for the whole genre in general. Obsession has got game, it brings something to the table, and can easily hold its own with the best of them. I think Rod Serling would have loved this one; so might have Shakespeare.
 
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