Unlocking Gen Z’s Nightmares: Inside the Chilling Allure of ‘Obsession’ and ‘Backrooms

Gen-Z isn’t just the most frequent visitor to theaters these days; they’re also stepping behind the camera, creating films that captivate their peers. This was evident over the weekend when two horror films, Backrooms and Obsession, shot to the top of the box office charts. These films, crafted by directors in their twenties, have found a strong audience among their age group, surpassing the receipts of a Star Wars installment that’s now primarily appealing to Gen-Xers and some Gen Alpha youngsters enchanted by Baby Yoda.

The film industry has yet to see a truly Gen-Z-driven sci-fi or fantasy blockbuster, as Hollywood continues to lean on franchises that reached their zenith decades ago. However, the horror genre, characterized by lower budgets and less reliance on star power or extravagant effects, can adapt quickly, making it the ideal playground for this new generation of filmmakers. The significant presence of young directors in horror is as much about economic practicality as it is about creativity. After all, American horror cinema wouldn’t be what it is without the drive for cost-effective success.

Examining these films reveals what they say about the emerging voices behind them in the mid-2020s landscape.

Backrooms stands out for its youthful origins, evolving from a YouTube series by director Kane Parsons, and tracing back to an image posted on a message board—an unlikely seed for a film. Critic Carol Grant notes how the movie taps into a post-pandemic psyche, reflecting a generation whose formative years were marked by isolation. It explores themes of desolate public spaces and the fear of chaotic environments beyond one’s control.

This might explain the film’s appeal and its peculiar nature. Set in 1990, the film features adult characters who often don’t convincingly act their age or fit their roles. Their backstories, while intended to provide depth, sometimes fall flat. These characters are almost as surreal as the bizarre imitations of human figures within the backrooms. Although this can detract from the immediate drama, it aligns with the post-pandemic sense of aimlessness. The characters wander the backrooms, their identities blurred, as they lack the stabilizing forces of careers, family ties, or relationships—only haunted by past memories fueling their discontent. It’s a distinctly Gen-Z perspective on adulthood, echoing the lingering effects of the pandemic.

Obsession is more of a classic wish-gone-wrong story, and as such will be more immediately relatable to some older audiences. Yet it also has some connection to the growing pains of an intensely online, socially isolated time. The characters in the movie go through familiar young-adult rituals: They’re working jobs without much obvious future, going to bar trivia nights together, forming high school-ish crushes. (Some of them are actually former classmates.) See plenty of later-period Hold Steady songs for more examples of this. (The movie even has some oxy lying around.) Yet Bear (Michael Johnston) seems downright paralyzed by the merest hints of acting on his feelings for Nikki (Inde Navarrette) in a way that’s more reminiscent of middle school. No wonder he makes a wish on an old novelty toy rather than confessing his feelings. The wish feels safer than the real possibility that Nikki doesn’t reciprocate his devotion.

Writer-director Curry Barker isn’t necessarily making a statement about his generation’s social anxieties. Bear’s buddy Ian (Cooper Tomlinson) is more accomplished in the field of behaving like a person. Before Bear’s unexpectedly effective wish takes possession of Nikki, she is, too. But surely members of a generation weirded out by phone calls will feel a queasy sense of identification when Bear repeatedly stops short of initiating a genuine confrontation with his longtime friend. Even older millennials might recognize Bear’s timidity as the natural extension of a world where crush confessions might be more likely to materialize in online chats than in-person interactions.

Neither Obsession nor Backrooms has a whole lot of digital tech. The latter predates cell phones (or even the mainstreaming of personal computers), while the former sticks to standard bits of texting without feeling especially online. In both cases, the tech-light environment feels like a decision to keep the movie from feeling dated to this current moment, possibly even the result of self-consciousness about getting labeled as faddish, fast-fade projects rather than the product of more universal fears. It’s precisely that self-consciousness over being cringe that has gotten press in recent months as a defining characteristic of Gen Z.

Barker and Parsons are too obviously ambitious for that kind of hesitation, but their movies capture the uncertainty of a pandemic-paused life where all spaces and relationships become liminal without enough attention. Old slasher movies were sometimes described as punishing their teenage characters for bad decisions. Obsession and Backrooms both explore the personal hell of not making them at all.

Jesse Hassenger (@rockmarooned) is a writer living in Brooklyn. In addition to contributing at Decider, his work also appears regularly at The A.V. Club, The Guardian, and GQ, among others. He podcasts at www.sportsalcohol.com, too.