I was initially resistant to see Obsession because I was mistakenly under the impression (granted, I didn’t watch the trailer) that it was somewhat of an incel movie about a guy who is desperate to get some and won’t take a hint. And I feel I’ve done my time with incel movies. From Taxi Driver to American Psycho, I’ve logged my hours watching film-bro classics that shed light on the psychologically enthralling yet pretty simplistic reality that there’s a kind of man who can’t stand women and wants them bad. In fact, he wants them so bad that he follows them in his lil quaint yellow automobile or shreds them to pieces. It’s all very canon—we get it. When I saw the poster for Obsession, I assumed that this was a Gen-Z-ified version of this classic, tried-and-true narrative.
But despite my preconceived notions, Obsession is actually not about men committing violence or being sexually perverse in the name of getting some—at least, it’s not about men doing this. The film mines the dark underbelly of a much gentler yet sinister kind of longing: the crush. The crush is innocent yet unrelenting. It’s all-consuming and intangible. It’s deeply frivolous and completely serious. Most importantly, there is actually something uncanny, holy, and sacrosanct about a crush. What I’m trying to say is that, in the drudgery of everyday life, entering the hallowed halls of having a crush feels otherworldly.
In Obsession, writer-director Curry Barker literalizes the otherworldly nature of a crush, transporting us to a supernatural universe where you can use a mere object (it’s called “One Wish Willow”—maybe they could’ve brainstormed the name more) to make the object of your affection feel just as obsessed with you as you are with them. In Barker’s film, Bear (Michael Johnston) decides to use it to get Nikki (Inde Navarrette), his long-term crush, to become absolutely obsessed with him. But be careful what you one-wish-willow for, because she becomes enthralled with Bear to the point of complete destruction, crime, and, most significantly, violence.
Obsession is also playing with a cinematic tradition that configures the crush as a strictly feminine phenomenonSo yes, the film turns the traditional gender dynamic portrayed in movies like American Psycho on its head, presenting the consequences of a woman’s maniacal and violent behavior. In fact, Nikki’s antics involve violence that rivals that of Patrick Bateman as she bashes heads in and disposes of bodies. Inversely, this setup made me think about the way that Obsession is also playing with a cinematic tradition that configures the crush as a strictly feminine phenomenon. In early-2000s rom-coms such as He’s Just Not That Into You, the crush is positioned as completely female-coded. In He’s Just Not That Into You, Gigi, played by the inimitable Ginnifer Goodwin, is always falling for guys she’s supposed to be “casually” dating. She develops feelings, nurtures a secret desire about her imagined future with the object of her affection, and then falls headfirst into a deep, seemingly unrelenting crush. Alex (played by Justin Long), a local bartender whom she befriends, says that she misinterprets casual flirtation as long-term possibility.
While Obsession is a completely different genre than the early-2000s ensemble-cast movies of yesteryear, the film is so resonant (and sweeping the box office) partly because it restructures the He’s Just Not That Into You dynamic, configuring the man as the one who is hopelessly stuck in crush-ville. Although Nikki becomes obsessed with Bear after he uses the One Wish Willow, this fixation is fabricated, and it’s actually Bear’s supposedly innocent, “girlish” crush that triggers the events of the film.
But Obsession doesn’t just satirize ancient gendered dynamics. The film also makes an even fresher point about the difference between earned and manufactured intimacy: steady, consistent adoration versus love bombing. After using the One Wish Willow, Nikki immediately starts divulging a large amount of personal information, telling Bear that her father has cancer. Right after she reveals this, she insists that they go to his house to hang out. This scene is the first of a few that explores the use of trauma disclosure as a shaky mechanism for establishing a bond. In this moment, because Bear and Nikki haven’t actually had the experience of falling in love—of building trust—her confession rings hollow to the viewer. While Bear is too enthralled with Nikki in the moment to think much of her sudden proclamation about her dad, we find out later that she was lying and that her father is completely healthy. In this way, Barker utilizes the paranormal form to portray the very mundane, empirical reality that attempting to establish closeness through trauma dumping can function as a mechanism of abuse. As the film develops, it becomes clear that Barker is generally investigating the line between all-consuming infatuation and sinister mistreatment.
All of this is to say that Obsession is gripping and at times, terrifying, but it can also be interpreted as an astute commentary on cinema’s portrayal of the gendered nature of desire and methods of abuse. Or simply put: She’s Just Not That Into You, Bear.
