In the summer, studios and exhibitors usually look to bread-and-butter blockbusters to boost business. This year, those sizzling titles include a new “Spider-Man” and Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey.”
So, Hollywood wasn’t exactly obsessing over Focus Features’ springtime “Obsession,” a little indie released May 15 that was made for just $750,000 — less than a one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan.
The film’s biggest name is Andy Richter. And its young and unknown writer-director, Curry Barker, is 26 (the same age as Steven Spielberg when he directed “Jaws”). A sketch comedian and former YouTuber, Barker penned the screenplay while he was serving java.
“I had a job at the coffee shop, and I’d come home and type up this script,” he told NBC. “But there was no way in the world that [I thought] it would become a worldwide theatrical release.”
And yet the scrappy scary movie that took three weeks to shoot has so far grossed $84 million globally — 112 times its budget — over its first 12 days. That’s a massive haul. On some weekdays, it’s beaten “The Devil Wears Prada 2” and “Michael.”
The party crasher is a real hit, and the latest film to prove the exploding power of horror — the only corner of Hollywood where the movie itself is always the star; where a tiny project by a nobody can knock out major studio competition; where creativity and commercialism call a fruitful truce.
Who would have thought that a genre that was a total schlock factory in the 1990s and aughts (“Leprechaun in the Hood,” “Bride of Chucky”) would become the one that best fulfills modern audiences’ desire for smart, provocative and original storytelling?
But here we are. Horror today gives Hollywood some of its most reliable products and is one of the few things that can regularly draw nonfamily customers to brick-and-mortar theaters. Because the financial stakes are lower, production companies take chances and mint a ton of exciting mainstream filmmakers (Jordan Peele, Zach Cregger, Osgood Perkins). And they’re a growing force at the Oscars.
Last year’s “Weapons” ($270 million) and “Sinners” ($370 million) were box office and pop cultural phenomena that scooped up Academy Awards for their respective actors, Amy Madigan and Michael B. Jordan. “Sinners” took home three more, including Best Original Screenplay.
Since “Get Out” ($259 million) hit theaters nine years ago, dread has been treated more seriously by critics and has been eagerly embraced by ticket buyers, while regular old dramas and even big IP pictures have struggled lately to gain traction. Surprise word-of-mouth successes such as “Longlegs” ($127 million) and “M3GAN” ($181 million) emerge more and more.
Why is fright so bankable? Horror is a category that prizes, above all else, the audience experience. So, filmmakers push themselves to invent unique and satisfying premises that must draw viewers in without the benefit of marquee names or “Prada”-like marketing blitzes. “Obsession” is about a man who makes a wish on a magic novelty item that his crush will fall in love with him.
And, as their budgets tend to be on the smaller side, directors find clever workarounds for obstacles. The movies are typically tactile, not overly animated, and tend to be some of the most stylish releases of any year.
From a business standpoint, horror also is the rare genre that doesn’t need to make a case for why we should still attend in person.
As a critic, it’s my job to insist that all movies are enhanced by watching them at the cinema in a group. On my honor, I will do my duty! Yet with freaky films, the reason is obvious. Fans — especially the elusive younger set — love to shout and squirm. The sensation of being trapped in the dark adds to the terror. Everybody knows they’re not as good on Netflix.
The ascendancy of horror, with all its blood and guts, has warmed my heart.
Barker’s on the rise too. He has another movie in production called “Anything But Ghosts,” and A24 has hired him to direct a new “Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”
And all because he made an enormously popular hit on a $750,000 budget.
That’s the stuff of dreams — or rather nightmares.
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