I’m still sitting here in complete shock at what I’m witnessing. I’ve been in this business for 25 years, and […]
I’m still sitting here in complete shock at what I’m witnessing.
I’ve been in this business for 25 years, and before that, I was a hardcore horror fan for another decade. I’ve seen the major trends. I’ve reported through the major shifts. I’ve witnessed audiences jump out of their seats when Samara Morgan crawled out of the television in The Ring. I’ve seen people lose their minds when the bathroom door slammed shut at the end of Saw. I remember theatergoers physically trembling during the uncomfortable sound design of Paranormal Activity.
I also remember reading articles in 1999 that treated The Blair Witch Project like an actual documentary before walking into the theater and getting completely shaken by it. That movie reshaped the horror landscape and changed the way audiences thought about filmmaking.
I’ve been through it all. I’ve seen it all.
And I can tell you with complete confidence that I’ve never seen anything quite like this.
We’re talking about two straight, back-to-back game changers.
What’s fascinating is that they’re also completely different movies. Everyone keeps reducing the conversation to “YouTubers,” but that’s not really what’s happening here. Filmmakers coming from online platforms isn’t some new phenomenon. James Wan discovered David F. Sandberg through his short film that became Lights Out. Michael Chaves came out of the short-film world before eventually directing films in The Conjuring universe.
This isn’t about YouTube. It’s about filmmakers spending years practicing their craft in public.
Film school can teach theory, but actually getting out there and writing, shooting, editing, lighting, acting, and learning every aspect of filmmaking through repetition is a different kind of education. Some creators are making comedy videos. Some are making children’s content. Some are building entirely different careers. But others are spending years honing the exact skills required to become filmmakers.
And now we’re seeing the results.
Two back-to-back horror movies that are completely dismantling conventional Hollywood thinking.
Let’s start with Obsession.
I’ve lived through this before with Terrifier 2. I watched that movie grow week after week. Then I made it happen again with Terrifier 3. But what Obsession is doing right now is almost impossible to comprehend.
As with Terrifier 2, the film has increased its box office totals for three straight weeks. That’s not supposed to happen.
What’s even crazier is that a major new horror movie arrived and didn’t stop Obsession‘s momentum.
Traditionally, studios don’t want two horror films opening directly against each other because they cannibalize one another. The audience gets split. One movie eats into the other.
Instead, Backrooms opened to an astonishing estimated $81.46M domestically, while Obsession still managed to outgross its previous weekend!
Think about how crazy that is for a second.
If Backrooms hadn’t arrived, and if Obsession hadn’t opened in an already crowded marketplace, we might be talking about an even bigger phenomenon than we’re already witnessing. Regardless, it’s become a monster success story.
And then there’s Backrooms.
When early projections suggested an opening in the $20M range, I publicly laughed. I thought it was absurdly low. I never believed that number.
That said, I didn’t predict $81M either. I thought maybe $40M. I thought saying $45M would make me sound insane.
Instead, we’re sitting here talking about an $81M opening weekend.
Eighty-one million dollars.
I keep repeating it because it still doesn’t feel real.
I’ve covered this industry long enough to know when something unusual is happening. What we’re witnessing right now isn’t just a successful horror movie. It isn’t even two successful horror movies.
It’s two consecutive events that are forcing Hollywood to rethink what audiences actually want and where the next generation of filmmakers is coming from.
So I’m sitting here staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I just witnessed.
You’ve got Obsession crossing the $110+M mark and looking like it could eventually push toward $150M or even $200M domestically. Then you’ve got Backrooms, which is shaping up to be one of the biggest horror success stories we’ve seen since Five Nights at Freddy’s, and it should easily clear the $250M barrier (maybe even $300M).
A lot has been said about Backrooms and liminal horror, and I think people sometimes struggle to explain what that actually means. Liminal horror has been around forever. We just didn’t have a name for it. Skinamarink helped bring the term into the mainstream conversation. Exit 8 tapped into similar ideas. You can even make an argument that films like The Shining contain elements of what we’d now call liminal horror.
The concept isn’t new. The label is.
For me, liminal horror is less about monsters and jump scares and more about emotional context. It’s tension created through atmosphere, lighting, architecture, sound, empty spaces, and the feeling that something is fundamentally wrong, even when nothing is happening.
I’ve always gravitated toward that stuff.
One of the reasons I connected so strongly with Hereditary was that it slowed horror down again. It reminded audiences that horror could breathe. It could be patient. It could build atmosphere and emotion instead of racing from scare to scare.
Some people roll their eyes at terms like “elevated horror” or “highbrow horror,” and that’s fine. Call it whatever you want. The point is that movies like Hereditary proved there was still an audience for slow-burn filmmaking.
That’s what I love about Paranormal Activity, too, even though it’s operating on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. That movie is built on sound, silence, anticipation, and the feeling of being trapped inside a cold, empty house at night. It lets the atmosphere do the work.
Whether you love it or hate it, the movie is an experience more than a plot machine. It’s an energy. It’s a vibe. You’re supposed to sit inside it. You’re supposed to soak in it.
I’ve seen people argue that it could have been shorter or tighter, but that’s almost missing the point. What would Backrooms even be if you turned it into a fast-paced, conventional horror movie? The entire experience is built around feeling trapped inside an endless, unnatural space. It’s supposed to feel disorienting. It’s supposed to linger. It’s supposed to make you uncomfortable.
That’s why it works for me.
I want more movies that make me feel something. I want more movies that take risks. I want more movies that are weird, unique, and willing to operate on a different wavelength than everything else around them. Not just indie films, either. I want studios taking swings on movies that challenge audiences instead of feeding them the same thing over and over again.
In a strange way, Backrooms feels like proof that there’s an audience for that.
Then, on the complete opposite side of the spectrum, you have Obsession.
I don’t throw around words like masterpiece very often, but I genuinely don’t care what anyone says. For me, that’s a five-star movie.
Every scene matters. It’s funny, terrifying, uncomfortable, heartbreaking, and wildly entertaining all at the same time. It constantly pulls the rug out from under you while never losing sight of its characters. And when it reaches the ending, it sticks the landing in a way that reminded me of a classic episode of The Twilight Zone.
It’s an absolute marvel of a film.
And somehow, both of these uniquely different movies arrived at exactly the same moment.
Backrooms is built on internet mythology, online culture, and a generation that grew up experiencing horror differently than any generation before it. It speaks directly to Gen Z in a language that feels native to them.
Obsession, meanwhile, taps into something completely different.
At its core, it’s about dating. It’s about rejection. It’s about insecurity. It’s about the fears and anxieties that come with trying to connect with another person. That’s why the movie has crossed generational boundaries so easily.
Older audiences can see pieces of the relationship-driven ’80s comedies they grew up with. People my age can see traces of movies like Superbad. Younger audiences connect with it because those fears and anxieties haven’t changed. The technology changes. The apps change. The dating culture changes. Human beings don’t.
In a weird way, Obsession does to dating what Jaws did to swimming.
It takes something ordinary and makes you look at it differently.
And that’s why both of these movies matter.
They’re not successful because they’re following a trend. They’re successful because they’re creating one.
That’s what makes this feel different.
This feels like a moment.
As horror fans, I think we need to enjoy it.
Like the movies. Hate the movies. Argue about them. Debate them. That’s what fandom is supposed to be. But don’t lose sight of what’s happening here.
This is a celebration of horror.
This is one of those rare moments where the genre gets to stand at the center of the conversation instead of fighting for a seat at the table. Horror isn’t asking for validation right now. Horror is setting the pace.
And if Hollywood is paying attention, there’s an even bigger lesson here.
Gen Z is coming.
They’re not growing up on the same movies. They’re not interested in telling the same stories. They’re bringing their own fears, their own experiences, their own influences, and their own voices into filmmaking. A lot of those voices are coming from horror.
We’ve spent years joking that every successful horror movie means “horror is back.”
Horror never went anywhere.
It evolves. It changes. It mutates. It finds new ways to speak to new audiences.
That’s exactly what’s happening right now. And when I look at Obsession. When I look at Backrooms. When I look at the crowds showing up for both films. It feels familiar. Not because I’ve seen it before. Because I haven’t. That’s why it feels special.
Ten years from now, many of us will remember where we were when this happened. We may not realize it yet, but I think we’re watching the start of something important.
So, full stop, take a second to enjoy it.
Go see the movies. See them with a crowd. Listen to the reactions. Feel the energy in the room.
Because moments like this don’t come around very often.
And right now, horror belongs to all of us.
Horror isn’t back.
Horror just changed again. And this time, the rest of the world finally noticed.
