Obsession (2025)

Modern horror seems increasingly incapable of actually frightening us. Films create uneasiness, explore psychological wounds, and offer familiar observations about human behavior, but genuine terror is another matter. Obsession is not particularly scary, either. However, it is a smarter film than many recent examples of the genre, because its central idea points toward something genuinely disturbing.

The premise is simple enough. You cannot make someone love you. You can desire another person's affection, manipulate circumstances, or even attempt to compel their devotion, but none of these things will give you what you actually want. Love must be freely given. The moment you attempt to force it, you have already undermined the very thing you desire.

I knew this was the film's central idea going in, and I confess I had little appetite for the experience. There is something deeply unpleasant about watching a story built around this sort of obsession, particularly when its conclusions seem so thoroughly nihilistic. I would not recommend the film as an enjoyable experience. Nevertheless, its premise illustrates an important truth. This is also an answer to a familiar objection to Christianity. If God is real and loves humanity, why does he permit sin and rebellion? Why not simply make everyone love him? Surely an omnipotent God could ensure that everyone obeys him and that we all live happily ever after.

But what would such love mean? If God created beings incapable of rejecting him, their obedience would be guaranteed. Yet the relationship he desired would be something other than love. As Obsession illustrates, you cannot compel the affection of another person without destroying the very thing you seek. God created beings capable of loving him, and therefore capable of rejecting him. Freedom made rebellion possible, even though it did not make rebellion necessary.

Christianity does not end there, however. God does not respond to human rebellion by pretending it never happened, nor does he simply abandon his creation. At the cross, he provides a way for sinners to be reconciled to him. He takes sin seriously enough to deal with it, while demonstrating a love willing to bear its cost. That reconciliation is offered to those who freely turn to him.

The distinction matters. God does not force us to love him. He makes reconciliation possible, even at the cost of the cross. The film's central insight is a bleak one, but it points toward a truth that Christianity takes much further: love cannot be compelled, and the possibility of rejecting love is inseparable from the freedom to receive it. I would hope, however, that this point can be understood without anyone having to watch this thoroughly unpleasant, nihilistic take on the subject.