Today is Pete Townshend’s 79th birthday and today’s scene that I love features Pete Townshend (as a member of The Who) performing at Woodstock in 1969.
Roger Daltrey later said that this was the worst gig that they ever played and The Who did end up going on stage early in the morning, with the sun rising as they performed See Me, Feel Me. The majority of The Who’s performance was not included in the initial release of the Woodstockdocumentary but the noticeably grainy footage would later be included in various rereleases.
Unfortunately, no cameras recorded the moment when Pete Townshend became the hero that 1969 needed by kicking a ranting Abbie Hoffman off of the stage. But, audio of the incident survived.
4 Shots From 4 Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!
Today, on what would have been his 73rd birthday, we celebrate filmmaker Albert Pyun!
It’s time for….
4 Shots From 4 Albert Pyun Films
The Sword and the Sorcerer (1982, dir by Albert Pyun, DP: Joseph Margine)
Cyborg (1989, dir by Albert Pyun, DP: Philip Alan Waters)
Captain America (1990, dir by Albert Pyun, DP: Philp Alan Waters)
Kickboxer 2 (1991, dir by Albert Pyun, DP: George Mooradian)
Chow Yun-Fat is one of the great international movie stars, and he’s my favorite living actor. Today is his 71st birthday, and I’ve been watching and reviewing his movies like crazy this month. I’ve had a ball. I’ll have new reviews to share soon, but today I’m sharing six fun screen images featuring the Hong Kong legend!
John Woo’s ONCE A THIEF (1991), laughing with Cherie Chung & Leslie Cheung! THE CORRUPTOR (1998), with a chokehold on Byron Mann!ANNA AND THE KING (1999), dancing with Jodie Foster!CURSE OF THE GOLDEN FLOWER (2006), in a toxic relationship with Gong Li! Letting the Bullets Fly in LET THE BULLETS FLY (2010)!Looking debonair in Johnnie To’s OFFICE (2015)!
“Just because you chose this for her doesn’t make it less real.” — Phone Operator
There is something especially unsettling about horror films that begin with a simple emotional truth. Obsession, written and directed by Curry Barker, starts with a feeling most people understand: wanting someone to love you back. Barker takes that universal desire and twists it into something ugly, tragic, and terrifying. The result is a horror film that works both as a supernatural nightmare and as an uncomfortable examination of loneliness, entitlement, and emotional dependency.
The premise sounds deceptively simple. Bear, played by Michael Johnston, is a socially awkward young man hopelessly in love with his longtime friend Nikki, played by Inde Navarrette. Bear convinces himself that if circumstances were just slightly different, Nikki would finally realize he is the right person for her. When he discovers a supernatural object known as the “One Wish Willow,” he makes the disastrous decision to wish that Nikki would love him completely. Naturally, the wish mutates into something horrific, transforming Nikki’s affection into a violent and all-consuming obsession.
At its core, Obsession feels like an old-fashioned monkey’s paw story updated for the modern age. Barker takes the familiar “be careful what you wish for” premise and dials the nastiness up to 11. The film fully commits to the emotional ugliness of its concept, giving the well-worn trope a vicious bite that makes the movie far better than it has any reason to be. Instead of treating the supernatural element like a gimmick, Barker roots the horror in emotional selfishness and the terrifying consequences of trying to control another person’s feelings.
What makes the film work so well is that Barker avoids turning the story into a heavy-handed moral lecture. The script trusts the audience to understand the disturbing reality underneath Bear’s actions. Bear is not portrayed as a cartoon villain. He is insecure, lonely, emotionally immature, and quietly resentful. That complexity makes him far more unsettling because he feels recognizable. The film taps into a very modern type of “nice guy” entitlement, where affection is viewed less as mutual connection and more as something owed or deserved.
Michael Johnston gives an impressively layered performance as Bear. He never plays the character as openly monstrous right away. Instead, Johnston leans into Bear’s passivity and self-pity, making him seem like someone convinced life has unfairly denied him happiness. Even as events spiral out of control, Bear continues rationalizing his decisions instead of fully confronting the damage he has caused. Johnston manages to make the character pathetic, frustrating, and disturbing all at once.
Inde Navarrette delivers the film’s strongest performance as Nikki. Once the wish begins taking hold, Navarrette shifts between affection, emotional collapse, desperation, and outright menace with remarkable control. What makes her performance especially effective is that Nikki never stops feeling human beneath the horror. There is a lingering sadness to the character because the film makes it clear she is losing her autonomy piece by piece. That loss of agency becomes one of the movie’s most disturbing ideas.
More than anything, Obsession is about the horror of emotional suffocation. Barker exaggerates toxic relationship dynamics into supernatural horror, but the emotions underneath everything feel believable enough to sting. The film understands how frightening dependency can become when love starts turning into possession. In many ways, the supernatural curse almost feels secondary to the emotional damage unfolding between the characters.
One of the film’s biggest surprises is how confidently Barker handles tone. Considering his background in online comedy and internet content, it would have been easy for the movie to lean too heavily into irony or self-awareness. Instead, Obsession balances dark humor and psychological dread remarkably well. There are genuinely funny moments throughout the film, often rooted in painfully awkward social interactions, but the comedy never weakens the horror. If anything, it makes scenes more uncomfortable because the characters and situations feel recognizable.
Visually, the film punches far above its apparent budget. Barker and cinematographer Taylor Clemons create an atmosphere that feels claustrophobic and emotionally oppressive. The framing often leaves characters isolated within empty spaces, subtly reinforcing the loneliness and discomfort driving the story. The lighting also deserves praise, frequently bathing scenes in dim yellows, reds, and shadows that gradually make ordinary environments feel increasingly hostile.
The sound design is equally effective. Barker wisely avoids relying only on loud jump scares. Instead, the film builds tension through silence, distant noises, and subtle audio distortions that make scenes feel emotionally wrong before anything overtly frightening even happens. Combined with Rock Burwell’s unsettling score, the movie maintains a lingering sense of dread that hangs over nearly every scene.
When the horror finally erupts into violence, Barker shows admirable restraint. The graphic moments land hard because the emotional groundwork has already been carefully established. Some scenes are genuinely difficult to watch not simply because they are bloody, but because the violence feels directly tied to desperation, obsession, and loss of control. The film understands that emotional discomfort can often be more disturbing than gore itself.
If the movie has weaknesses, they mostly stem from Barker occasionally pushing the central metaphor a little too hard. Some later scenes become slightly obvious in their symbolism, and a few supporting characters feel underdeveloped compared to the leads. Still, those flaws never seriously damage the film because the central performances and atmosphere remain compelling throughout.
What ultimately makes Obsession stand out from many modern horror films is how emotionally specific it feels. Rather than chasing broad social commentary, Barker narrows his focus onto a very particular kind of emotional dysfunction. The film is less interested in making sweeping statements about relationships and more interested in examining the terrifying consequences of confusing love with ownership.
In that sense, the “One Wish Willow” works less as a magical object and more as a representation of selfish fantasy. Bear wants love without vulnerability, rejection, or reciprocity. He wants an easy shortcut to emotional fulfillment. The horror comes from realizing that genuine love cannot exist without freedom.
There are traces of earlier psychological horror films throughout Obsession. The movie occasionally recalls the obsessive fixation of Misery and the emotional body horror of Possession, though Barker filters those influences through a distinctly modern lens shaped by internet-age loneliness and social isolation. Yet despite those influences, the film never feels derivative. Barker’s voice as a filmmaker comes through clearly in both the emotional discomfort and escalating supernatural chaos.
Perhaps the most impressive thing about Obsession is how assured it feels for a filmmaker still early in his career. Barker directs with confidence, gradually tightening the emotional pressure until the movie becomes almost suffocating by its final act. By the end, the film reaches a level of tragic inevitability that feels earned rather than forced.
Obsession succeeds because it recognizes how frightening loneliness and emotional dependency can become when mixed with entitlement and fantasy. Beneath the supernatural premise is a painfully human story about people confusing obsession with love. Curry Barker turns that idea into a disturbing, darkly funny, emotionally bruising horror film that lingers long after the credits roll.
For a filmmaker making such an ambitious leap into feature-length horror, Barker delivers something remarkably confident and emotionally sharp. Obsession is creepy, uncomfortable, tragic, and surprisingly insightful. More importantly, it feels like the arrival of a filmmaker who understands how modern horror can reflect real emotional anxieties while still delivering an entertaining and deeply unsettling experience. In many ways, Barker joins the recent wave of younger horror filmmakers like Oz Perkins and Zach Cregger who have proven that horror, dread, and dark comedy do not have to work against each other. Like those directors, Barker understands how to blend discomfort, absurdity, and genuine emotional tension into a cohesive whole, creating a film that is as unsettling as it is unexpectedly funny.
Hi, everyone! Tonight, on twitter, I will be hosting one of my favorite films for #MondayMania! Join us for 2015’s A Teacher’s Obsession!
You can find the movie on Prime and then you can join us on twitter at 9 pm central time! (That’s 10 pm for you folks on the East Coast.) See you then!
Today is Frank Capra’s birthday! Capra was born 126 years ago, on this date, in Sicily.
Now, if you’ve been reading this site for a while, you should know that my favorite Capra film is It’s A Wonderful Life. However, a close second is 1939’s Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. In today’s scene that I love, Sen. Jefferson Smith (Jimmy Stewart) holds the Senate floor as he denounces the corruption that he sees all around him in Washington. There’s a reason why Senator Smith is still held up as the ideal public servant. It’s just a shame that he was a fictional character.
4 Or More Shots From 4 Or More Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!
129 years ago, on this date, Frank Capra was born in Sicily. Capra was six years old when his family immigrated to the United States and, for the rest of his long life, he would often talk about seeing the Statue of Liberty from the deck of a boat sailing to Ellis Island. Capra went on to become a director whose work celebrated the ideals and the promise of America. He not only gave us the holiday classic, It’s A Wonderful Life, but he also directed one of the few political films that matteed, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. And let us not forget that the first two comedies to win the Oscar for Best Picture were directed by Capra, It Happened One Night and You Can’t Take It With You.
In honor of a great career and legacy, here are….
4 Shots From 4 Frank Capra Films
It Happened One Night (1934, dir by Frank Capra, DP: Joseph Walker)
You Can’t Take It With You (1938, dir by Frank Capra, DP: Joseph Walker)
Mr. Smith Goes To Washington (1939, dir by Frank Capra, DP: Joseph Walker)
It’s A Wonderful Life (1946, dir by Frank Capra, DP: Joseph Walker and Joseph Biroc)
As some of our regular readers undoubtedly know, I am involved in hosting a few weekly live tweets on twitter and occasionally Mastodon. I host #FridayNightFlix every Friday, I co-host #ScarySocial on Saturday, and I am one of the five hosts of Mastodon’s #MondayActionMovie! Every week, we get together. We watch a movie. We snark our way through it.
Tonight, for #MondayActionMovie, the film will be Assault on Dome 4!
It should make for a night of fun viewing and I invite all of you to join in. If you want to join the live tweets, just hop onto Mastodon, find the movie on YouTube and hit play at 8 pm et, and use the #MondayActionMovie hashtag! The watch party community is a friendly group and welcoming of newcomers so don’t be shy.
“For here on this river, God never finished his creation.” — Balthasar
Werner Herzog’s Aguirre, the Wrath of God opens with one of the most hypnotic sequences in cinema: a column of Spanish conquistadors and indigenous slaves snaking down a fog-shrouded Andean pass, cannon winched separately. From that first frame, you sense you’re watching not a historical adventure but a fever dream. The film is loosely based on the real-life Lope de Aguirre, a Basque mutineer who searched for El Dorado in the 1560s. But as Herzog later confirmed, historical accuracy was never the point. Aguirre is fiction—a myth sculpted from jungle heat, river currents, and one actor’s maniacal commitment. Remarkably, the production itself became a hellish mirror of the narrative: shot deep in the Peruvian rainforest under conditions so brutal that the line between making a movie and surviving an ordeal vanished.
The plot is simple. In 1560, a Spanish expedition descends into the Amazon basin, searching for the golden city of Manoa. When rapids prove too treacherous, a smaller party is sent ahead under the noble but hapless Don Pedro de Ursúa (Ruy Guerra). Among them is Aguirre (Klaus Kinski), a wiry, half-mad soldier who immediately undermines authority. After Ursúa is murdered, Aguirre seizes control, declaring himself “the Wrath of God” and proclaiming a new monarchy. What follows is not a rousing conquest but a slow hallucinatory unraveling: rafts stuck on looping rivers, starvation, arrows from invisible natives, and the collapse of every civilizing impulse. This is one man’s battle against nature and his personal crisis of faith—a crisis the production team would come to know intimately.
Herzog’s storytelling prioritizes mood over plot. The narrative drifts through long takes of jungle canopy, close-ups of Kinski’s hollow eyes, and Popol Vuh’s otherworldly score. But the film’s raw authenticity comes from its production: a near-literal trek through jungle hell. Herzog took a small cast and crew into the Peruvian rainforest with no insurance, no backup equipment, and no evacuation strategy. The Urubamba River was unpredictable, with hidden rocks and stretches local guides refused to navigate. Rafts capsized. Food spoiled. Actors began unraveling for real. When a soldier in the film announces, “We are walking in circles,” it is both scripted and a genuine observation from an extra who’d passed the same fallen tree three days running. Herzog left that take in. The boundary between fictional madness and documentary collapse dissolved completely.
And then there was Klaus Kinski. If the jungle was one monster, Kinski was another. The conflict between Herzog and his star is the stuff of legend. Kinski arrived volatile, prone to screaming fits, threatening to abandon the production. At one point, a native chief offered to kill Kinski for free. Herzog declined—he still needed the actor alive. On another occasion, Herzog reportedly held Kinski at gunpoint during an attempted walkout. Kinski stayed. That friction bleeds into every frame. Kinski’s rage and paranoid stillness aren’t simulated; they’re the genuine product of a man frayed by heat, isolation, and his own demons. That is not method acting in a safe studio. It’s a man on the edge, pointed at a director who refused to flinch.
What lifts Aguirre into high art is its philosophical dread, earned through real suffering. And at its heart is Aguirre himself, a character who feels less like a historical figure and more like a literary archetype. As played by the manic Kinski, Aguirre is a remarkable fusion: the tragic Miltonian rebel and the obsessive Melvillean monomaniac. Like Satan in Paradise Lost, Aguirre defies divine and imperial order, preferring to reign in hell than serve in heaven. His self-coronation and final soliloquy echo Milton’s antihero—magnificent in defiance, hollowed by pride. But Herzog drains the grandeur, leaving only the fall without the poetry. Simultaneously, Aguirre is pure Ahab from Moby-Dick: another obsessive dragging a reluctant crew into the void on a suicidal quest. El Dorado is his white whale, an obsession that obliterates loyalty, love, and sanity. Both are swallowed by their obsession—Ahab by the sea, Aguirre by the jungle. But where Melville gives Ahab a thunderous final confrontation, Herzog gives Aguirre a whimper: a circle of monkeys, a drifting raft, and a whispered promise of a dynasty that will never come. Kinski holds both archetypes in suspension—Satan’s pride and Ahab’s fixation—and grinds them into something unrecognizable, belonging only to Herzog’s fever dream.
In the film’s most famous scene, Aguirre stands alone on a raft littered with corpses, small monkeys crawling over his armor, and whispers, “I will be the Wrath of God. Who else is with me?” No one. The jungle has swallowed everyone. Herzog frames this as the logical end of both the Miltonian and Melvillean arcs: absolute power in absolute isolation. The scene was shot in one take—not for artistry but because the raft was about to be swept away. The monkeys were real, biting the crew and defecating on Kinski’s armor. He didn’t break character. He couldn’t afford to. That’s the difference between a film that describes madness and one that embodies it.
Visually, Aguirre is a masterclass in low-budget grandeur. Cinematographer Thomas Mauch’s handheld camera glides through the jungle like a ghost. The opening descent feels supernatural. Rivers fill the frame until you lose direction. A galleon stuck in high branches—a leftover from a previous flood—becomes the film’s central metaphor: even empire is helpless against nature’s chaos. That chaos was logistical as well as thematic.
If there’s a weakness, it’s that the pacing can feel punishing. This film doesn’t build to a climax; it decays. Characters die offscreen or vanish. There is no redemption, no final battle. Some viewers may find this anticlimactic, but that’s the point. Herzog isn’t telling a story about winning or losing. He’s documenting a psychic meltdown from the inside, and meltdowns don’t follow three-act structure. The production’s own meltdown—hunger, disease, screaming matches on muddy riverbanks—only reinforces that vision. Aguirre is not a film about a man battling nature and losing his faith. It’s a film that became that battle, in real time, with real stakes, and somehow survived.
Years after release, Herzog clarified that Aguirre bears only the loosest resemblance to the historical Lope de Aguirre. He claimed he dreamed the film during a hike in the Alps. That dream-logic explains why Aguirre feels less like a period piece than a prehistoric vision. History is just a costume; the real subject is the human capacity to mistake madness for destiny. And that destiny, filtered through Kinski, is neither strictly Miltonian nor Melvillean but a nightmare hybrid: a fallen angel who keeps hunting the whale long after the ship has sunk.
In the end, Aguirre, the Wrath of God remains a towering, unsettling achievement. It influenced everything from Apocalypse Now to Resident Evil 4, but no imitation has matched its specific, waterlogged power. Despite the leeches, dysentery, gun threats, and screaming, the film that emerged is haunting, mesmerizing—a surreal trip into one man’s battle against nature and his crisis of faith. Herzog wanted “ecstatic truth” rather than mere fact. Aguirre is ecstatic truth: a fiction that feels more real than reality, a portrait of a madman that makes you understand why sanity is fragile, and a warning about conquest that remains urgent half a century later. Watch it on the biggest screen you can find, late at night, alone. The monkeys will be waiting. And somewhere in the jungle, Herzog and Kinski are still arguing.
Bill Paxton would have been 71 years old today. As a lover of both films and eccentric Texans, I still miss Bill Paxton.
Today’s scene that I love comes from Twister and it features Bill Paxton showing off some wonderful chemistry with Helen Hunt. One of the great things about Bill Paxton is that he was equally at home in both big blockbusters like Twister and Titanic and low-budget indies like Near Dark. He was an artist who also happened to be a star.