‘Obsession’ Exposes What Men Really Think About Women

Spoilers afoot!

There’s a single line of dialogue in Curry Barker’s Obsession that sums up the entire problem with men: “What would be so bad about being with me?” Bear (Michael Johnston) says this after the real Nikki (Inde Navarrette) breaks through the One Wish Willow spell and begs him to “just kill me.” Everything has been stripped from her—her body, her mind, and most importantly, her agency—all because a “good guy” couldn’t handle being friend-zoned. There’s a reason women choose the bear, but Nikki doesn’t even get that choice. She’s literally forced into a relationship with a guy named Bear.

I just can’t shake the ick Obsession makes me feel, something I haven’t experienced since 2016’s Better Watch Out (or, as I like to call it: Brock Turner’s origin story). Barker’s feature has been lauded as “deviously crowd-pleasing,” the Rotten Tomatoes critics’ consensus reads, also adding how it’s “dauntingly disturbing while also skillfully amusing and thrilling.” But the film is “in actuality regressive,” Pajiba critic Jason Adams rightfully notes. The very real fear women endure every day, even within their close male friends’ circle (women aren’t really safe anywhere, are they?), becomes bottled within the film’s jarringly claustrophobic walls. It’s 1 hour and 48 minutes of pure hell.

Bear doesn’t believe the children’s novelty toy, One Wish Willow, possesses any sort of magic. And why would he? He wishes that “Nikki loved me more than anyone in the world,” breaking the wooden stick in two. Nikki immediately undergoes a radical personality shift. She becomes so infatuated with Bear that she can’t spend a single moment without him. She nests at his house for days on end. When he leaves for work, or anything really, she waits by the door with a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face like a helpless golden retriever. In one particularly chilling moment, she stands stoic, her eyes glued to the front door, and urinates on the living room carpet. Nikki doesn’t even have control over her bodily functions!

I suppose that’s the point, right? Obsession wallows in a muddy pigpen of the male fantasy of controlling women and how we, societally speaking, have failed and continue to fail women. I can’t help but be reminded of far-right streamer Nick Fuentes’ grotesque comments following the 2024 presidential election: “Your body, my choice.” His smug little face lit up my Twitter feed that night, and it’s partly why I left that garbage website behind. The swell of the manosphere since then has been devastatingly plastered inside Obsession in a way that’s neither cheeky (as good satire should be) nor poignant in deconstructing male rage against women. In 2026, I’m not advocating for subtlety (we’re long past that), but I do demand a far more careful and critical analysis of our culture, especially if you are a cis straight white man making movies.

As Nikki grows more frantic, threatening (and eventually killing) those in his life, Bear remains so frustratingly obtuse that his face becomes just as punchable as Nick Fuentes’. From the way Johnston’s performance is shot to framing the story around Bear’s pathetic desperation to be loved by Nikki, there’s an overwhelming sentiment that Curry Barker wants us to feel sorry for Bear. Like actually fear for his safety (deflecting the real tragedy here) and root for him to somehow get out of this self-inflicted chaos. It’s been bizarre reading the online discourse around the film. Countless viewers either misread the film’s central thesis of male authority over women or gloss over Bear’s manipulative behavior and utter destruction of Nikki’s life. Many agree that, yes, he’s the villain, but don’t dig nearly deep enough to excavate the tangled, bloody roots.

Obsession obsesses over its hatred of women. There are many moments, especially early on, when Bear could have stopped the deterioration of Nikki. At any time, he could have and should have said no and offed himself as a way to give Nikki back her life. But he didn’t. Even when he takes a bottle of pills at the end, the same pills that killed his cat, he tries to make himself vomit them back up. His last moments are in regret—not about what he did to Nikki, but about ending his life and ultimately losing his control over a woman’s body. He might be positioned as a “good guy,” but aren’t they all? They’re all good guys until they’ve been scorned or simply given the “I’m not into you like that” response to romantic advances. We’ve seen (or read about) countless times when men will “make the move,” but as soon as they’re shunned, there’s a swift and violent switch. It’s All Men, until it’s No Men.

Just like in Better Watch Out, there’s ultimately no resolution for the lead woman. No catharsis. No reclamation of her agency. No healthy outlet to deal with the emotional experience of what we’ve witnessed. We’re left with only a wicked sadness. Obsession happens every single day. All you have to do is read the news or scroll on social media. It’s that dark, grinding pit in your stomach of yet another woman being ruined by a man. It happens in explicit acts of violence, or, far more dangerously, through insidious actions that put women’s lives in a direct line of fire. Bear may not have intended for any of this to happen, but the emotional and psychological impact on Nikki is irreparable. When Bear finally dies, Nikki snaps out of the trance. She’s left holding Bear’s corpse and effectively pinned for all the tragedy that came before, including Sarah’s (Megan Lawless) brutal and unnecessary death. Her existence has been utterly destroyed.

To give credit where credit is due: Obsession certainly does a great job at making you fearful. The scares are top-notch, and Navarrette delivers a legacy-cementing performance. But I walked away from my viewing feeling like my soul had withered and died. It was unpleasant, uncomfortable, and terribly depressing. We see enough of this shit in the news.