As a Fellow Theatergoer Was Overheard to Observe, I Can Attest to the Following: Obsessed is Definitely NOT Whack

If anything, Obsessed is something of a small miracle.  Hollywood seems to love producing mirthless crap on a daily basis, so much so to the point where you point where one might think that Hollywood’s only business is producing joyless cinematic equivalents to pond scum.  But such is most certainly not the case with Obsessed.  Is it bad?  No doubt.  Terrible?  Quite possibly.  But I liked it, nay, loved it:

obsessed-ring-on-it

Obsessed is, to be certain, a terrible movie.  The acting is at very best vampy sexpot camp (Ali Larter) and the inimitable brand of steely faced, bitch-please crazy that Beyonce has elevated to a minor art, yet it’s in other places rather tepid (Idris Elba’s performance seems rather befuddled, almost as though he hired by simply wandering onto the set) or head-scratchingly absurd (Jerry O’Connell’s horndog schtick seems to have been beamed in from another planet).  

The screenplay is an impressive black hole for logic and character motivation.  Beyonce’s the dream wife because the movie says so.  Ali Larter gets obsessed because the movie says so.  The cop doesn’t believe that Ali Larter’s wearing the least seductive pair of business casual crazy pants because the movie says so.  Showgirls infamously asked that you leave your inhibitions at the door.  Obsessed demands you to do the same with you deductive reasoning skills.

Then there’s the sex issue, the very root of what makes Obsessed work on such a pleasurably bad level.  Never mind the fact that you can’t make an effective erotic thriller when your movie is rated PG-13, your “sexiest” moment involves Ali Larter going into partial rigamortis in Idris Elba’s car, and your idea of dirty is having a mirror on the bedroom ceiling.  Perhaps my perception of dirty is warped from having seen Elizabeth Berkley lick a stripper pole (the single trainwreckiest moment of cinematic history, to be sure), but Obsessed is really on scandalous if you’re 12.  

That all said, it’s still a total thrill to watch.  From the embarrassingly cliched first frames of Beyonce and Idris Elba moving into their new dream house (in Hollywood logic, moving into your dream home is like begging for a disaster) to the dialed-up-to-11 catfight that serves as the movie’s raison d’être (I haven’t seen that much hair pulling in ages), Obsessed is a fine blend of straight-faced seriousness and trash revelry.  It’s not going to change lives or win awards or even dethrone Showgirls, but Obsessed is a wonderful guilty pleasure and an instant camp classic.

Also, PS, this is relevent to nothing, but it’s worth nothing that Obsessed clearly knows its audience, aka, me.  For no real reason, there’s also a gay guy  in the movie who has a beard (the facial hair, not the fake wife), so he’s like my doppleganger; and like any good doppleganger, he ruins everything!  He gets “sick” and then Ali Larter steals his desk.  Ali Larter’s crazy ass goes AWOL for months, and he naturally then proceeds to tell her about the trip Idris and Beyonce are taking.  NATURALLY.  I wish he’d been in cahoots with Ali Larter, but maybe he can be the star of the must-be-made sequel, Obsessed 2: Limp Wrists Can Still Have Claws of Steel.  That cat fight would be totally epic, and then it’d end with Beyonce and the gay doing the “Single Ladies” dance.  Why?

Because the movie says so.

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3 Responses

  1. Let’s be real, you would have been friends with batshit crazy Ali Larter too. And frankly, so would I.

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    • Oh, I would gladly be friends with her, no doubt about it. The real question is whether or not I could ruin the lives of everyone as much as my doppleganger. Deep thoughts for the day, indeed.

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  2. […] worth $12.50.  Instead, might I suggest renting the camp ridiculousness that is Obsessed?  Sure, I already reviewed it months ago, but now it’s out on DVD, and that means you’ve no excuse not to see it!  Just look at […]

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