A. Rimbaud

When was the last time you felt like you were watching something wholly original? It’s a rare enough feeling for cinemagoers, but when considering the biopic, which tends to flatten any life into a familiar narrative shape, it’s an even more alien concept. Patrick Wang explodes that form in A. Rimbaud, his wildly unconventional portrait of the 19th century poet Arthur Rimbaud. The film details Rimbaud’s life from his prodigious youth to his untimely death, but from the moment Rimbaud asks us if we’d like to hear a story and reaches out to physically make the camera ‘nod’ in agreement, Wang springs surprises in almost every scene.

Read the rest of my review in Sight & Sound

Il Cinema Ritrovato 2026

In its 40^th year, the organisers of Il Cinema Ritrovato gave us something they’ve never given us before. It is customary to experience live music at the festival’s numerous silent film screenings, but this year the Japanese silent-era films in the programme were also accompanied by live benshi narration. In this traditional practice, a narrator stands to the side of the screen and describes events to the audience, while providing the character’s unspoken dialogue. I watched Daisuke Itō’s Jirokichi the Rat (1931) in this way, and benshi Ichiro Kataoka brought so much colour and nuance to his descriptions of the action and his delivery of the characters’ words, it almost made me forget I was watching a silent film. Combined with the music by Katada Kisayo, Kawashima Nobuko and Gabriel Thibaudeau, the presentation of live subtitles, and the 35mm projection, it was also a reminder of how thrillingly alive screenings at this festival can feel. The standing ovation these performers received from the audience in the Modernissimo was well-earned.

Daisuke Itō was the latest less-heralded figure to be celebrated in the festival’s ongoing Japanese focus. A prolific writer and director whose work spanned six decades, Itō remains a relatively unknown filmmaker in the west, but the seven features that I saw were extremely illuminating. What struck me most about Itō’s work was how mobile his camerawork was. He loves to generate energy through his camera, enlivening static situations, and in fact this tendency earned him the nickname "Idō daisuki" (Loves Motion) from the earliest days of his career.

At times, I felt that Itō’s grasp of storytelling – in terms of delineating characters and motivations – was his least impressive facet, but he keeps the pacing tight and in each film he puts together at least one standout sequence. I’m thinking of the pivotal shogi match in Ōshō (1948), where he accentuates the tension as Sakata (Tsumasaburō Bandō) ponders his killer move while his family beats their prayer drums rhythmically in support; or the remarkable thunderstorm sequence in The Lion’s Throne (1953), where a terrified young boy begs to be released from the basement while his mother (Kinuyo Tanaka) coldly ignores his cries; or the astounding final twenty minutes of Five Men from Edo (1951), which subverts our expectations of this brewing conflict, before climaxing in a face-off between two samurai from which there can be no winner. This ending appears to be typical of Itō’s sensibility, as he often tells stories about characters who are bound by codes and traditions that lead them to an inescapably bleak fate.

That’s certainly the case in my favourite of the Itō-directed films I saw in Bologna, his epic 1961 film The Conspirator. This was a project he nurtured for a decade, and out of all the films programmed in this season, it was the only one to be filmed in widescreen and in colour. The impact is staggering from the opening minutes, especially on one of the best 35mm prints I saw at the festival, with Itō staging a battle scene that reminded me of Kurosawa’s Ran (1985). The story that he tells is impressive in its scope and psychological nuance, as he follows a man trapped between two warring clans by virtue of his complicated lineage. It’s a grand, absorbing tragedy, building towards an agonisingly extended scene of seppuku, which ends the film on a desperately sad note.

If Itō’s work was a bit too doom-laden and oppressive, then a sunnier alternative was offered in the festival’s Mitchell Leisen strand. I’d seen many of Leisen’s most popular films already, but I enjoyed making discoveries here too, even if the results were mixed. Practically Yours (1944), Darling, How Could You! (1951) and Young Man with Ideas (1952) all had their moments, and Leisen is always gets fine work from his actors, but all three scripts feel a little thin or uneven, and I don’t think Leisen did a great deal to elevate patchy material. The standout discovery in this season for me was the least Leisen-like film of them all. Amid all of the elegant, witty screwball comedies that we associate with Leisen, we had Cradle Song (1933), his first directorial credit, and a film that has been out of circulation for decades.

Cradle Song is a story of motherhood set inside a convent, with an abandoned baby being taken in and raised by the nuns. Sister Joanna (Dorothea Wieck) forms a particularly maternal bond with this child, which helps to fill the void of the family she left behind to follow her vocation, and by the time Teresa (Evelyn Venable) has grown to adulthood, the pair share an incredibly close bond. Inevitably, the time comes where Teresa becomes curious about the world outside of the convent walls, and this is where the emotional weight of Cradle Song starts to accumulate. Sister Joanna must prepare herself to lose her daughter to the real world – a world she can never enter – and to once again sever the bonds of family. It’s a very basic narrative, but it was the simplicity and purity of Cradle Song that moved me. Leisen’s handling of the drama is graceful and understated, and he pulls off some beautiful shots; notably a wonderful reveal when light floods the room and unveils the nuns to Teresa’s husband-to-be.

Mother-daughter relationships are also at the heart of Gunvor Nelson’s work, but as I watched a series of her films on 16mm prints, I was taken aback by the variety of ways she found to approach this theme. In Schmeerguntz (1965) she uses dazzling and witty collage effects to contrast the santised media depictions of womanhood with the reality of pregnancy, housework and cleaning up shit; In Kirsa Nicholina (1969) she movingly records her friend giving birth in uncompromising detail; in Red Shift (1984), her multi-generational story is given added texture through the diaries that Calamity Jane left behind for her daughter. The most powerful of Nelson’s films, however, was the shortest and most straightforward. In Time Being (1991), Nelson records her dying mother in three static shots, beginning with a close-up of her aged face with her mouth agape, and gradually moving further away. Each shot ends with the camera shaking as Nelson averts her gaze, reminding us of the daughter filming her mother’s lifeless form. You could hear nothing but the projector whirring as the whole audience seemed to be holding its breath during this screening, and I left the cinema tearful, silent and humbled.

The other film to leave me in a state of stunned and tearful silence at the end was Lino Brocka’s Weighed But Found Wanting (1974), which the director described as his “first novel,” and which certainly possesses a novelistic richness in its depiction of these characters and their world. The film hits you in the gut from its opening scene, in which a woman is forced to undergo an abortion, and that’s far from the only act of cruelty we witness over the course of the next two hours, but while Brocka is pitiless in his depiction of the hypocrisy and inhumanity of this world, he also finds humanity and hope in its most wretched characters. Mario O'Hara and the astonishing Lolita Rodriguez play outcast characters who are mocked and reviled by the rich 'Christian' society, but Christopher de Leon – as the teenage son of a wealthy philanderer – is drawn to them and sees the goodness they possess, in sharp contrast to the world he grew up in. Once again, I am blown away by Brocka’s ability to immerse us completely in the world of his characters, and to make us care so deeply about their fates. He’s an incredible filmmaker, and I hope we see more restorations of his work as soon as possible.

There are highlights everywhere you look at Il Cinema Ritrovato. My festival programme ran the gamut from Henry King’s magnificent melodrama Tol’able David (1921) to Paula Delsol’s lost nouvelle vague gem La Dérive (1964); from the overwhelmingly beautiful Czech drama The Organist at St. Vitus’ Cathedral (1929) to the utterly insane puppet porn on display in Gerard Damiano’s Let My Puppets Come (1976). These are the discoveries that make Il Cinema Ritrovato a singularly joyous affair every year, although I confess the steadily growing temperature does threaten to make it feel like more of a chore at times. The air-conditioning in most of these cinemas is simply not up to the task, and with the summer heat only set to increase in the coming years, one wonders if the festival’s late June/early July positioning may need to be revised. It’s hard to fully enjoy a cinema experience when you emerge from the screening more saturated in sweat than you were going in.

The other challenge Il Cinema Ritrovato sets for us every year is more of a luxury problem – how do we decide between the multiple fascinating offerings positioned against each other in the programme? This is the inevitable conflict one faces in such a large and wide-ranging festival, but having said that, it did seem rather perverse on the part of the organisers to schedule the single screening of a rare 1930s Max Ophüls film and a rare 1920s Ernst Lubitsch film against each other. Having already seen Lubitsch’s So This is Paris (1926), I settled in for The Bartered Bride (1932) and made one of my most thrilling discoveries of the year. Curiously, it feels a little like Ophüls is directing a Lubitsch film here – this would have slotted in perfectly with his 1930s musicals – but Ophüls brings a sensational kinetic energy to his direction. Gorgeously crafted, witty, dynamic and full of hilarious gags, it’s a wondrous film that deserves to be much better known.

Those of us at the Ophüls screening had the added bonus of seeing this year’s Boarini Award to Mariann Lewinsky, who loves The Bartered Bride and selected it for this screening. Named after the founder of the Cineteca, the Vittorio Boarini are given to people who have distinguished themselves in the safeguarding and diffusion of cinema heritage, and in her last year as a co-director of Il Cinema Ritrovato, Mariann Lewinsky was a worthy recipient. She established the Hundred Years Ago strand at the festival, which is now edging towards the sound era, and it was so touching to see her humbly accept this honour from her colleague Gianluca Farinelli. Lewinsky’s boundless enthusiasm and curiosity is emblematic of the spirit that has propelled Il Cinema Ritrovato through forty glorious years, and that spirit will keep it feeling vital for many more years to come.

The Last One for the Road

The first thing to say about Carlobianchi (Sergio Romano) and Doriano (Pierpaolo Capovilla) is that they probably shouldn’t be behind the wheel. At the start of The Last One for the Road, they are snoozing in the front seats of their car. The scene is bathed in red, and the pair are oblivious to that light turning green, until the beeping horn of an irate motorist rouses them from their slumber. “Shall we have one last drink?” Carlobianchi groggily asks his friend as they drive off.

Read the rest of my review at Sight & Sound

A Private Life

A Private Life is the kind of flimsy genre exercise that needs a strong star performance to keep it on course. Thankfully, Rebecca Zlotowski has cast Jodie Foster at the centre of the film, and it’s hard to imagine a stronger linchpin. Foster plays Lilian Steiner, an American psychiatrist living in Paris who, we quickly surmise. has been doing this work for a long time. perhaps too long. She barely seems to listen to her patients’ woes, allowing her ever-present Dictaphone to do the work for her, and her emotions are regimented to such a degree that she is brusque and distant even around her own family.

Read the rest of my review at Sight & Sound

"I don't feel like my path is very different to the traditional route." - An Interview with Curry Barker

Curry Barker may be an unfamiliar name for most cinemagoers, but like a number of the horror filmmakers who have emerged in recent years, he already has a loyal following thanks to his YouTube work. On their channel That’s a Bad Idea, Barker and his friend Cooper Tomlinson have posted comic sketches that they've written and performed in, while Barker has posted a series of short horror films on the channel. Barker’s short The Chair (2023) earned him attention from the studios, and this was followed by Milk & Serial (2024), an hour-long film that Barker and Tomlinson made for $800, which became a viral word-of-mouth hit. Barker’s YouTube work showed some promise, but Obsession is a huge step up. Obsession is the story of Bear (Michael Johnston), who harbours an unspoken crush on his work colleague Nikki (Inde Navarrette). When he flippantly makes a wish that Nikki would love him more than anyone else in the world, he instantly turns her into the girlfriend from hell, unwilling to be apart from him for a moment, and consumed by a murderous rage if anyone comes between them. Obsession is a tight, clever and terrifically entertaining horror film, and I recently had the opportunity to talk to Barker about his hugely impressive debut.

One thing I liked about Obsession is the way it manages to put a fresh, modern spin on the old idea of ‘be careful what you wish for.’ What was it that drew you to this premise?

I was really intrigued by this idea. I have so many different ideas in my phone, I’m constantly trying to come up with cool film ideas, but I was really intrigued by the idea of obsession. I had this idea about a man and a woman who were so infatuated with each other that they became violent, but it didn't work. There was no story, because if they're both obsessed, then what is the movie? I was watching this Simpsons episode one day and Bart had a monkey paw. He made a wish and all this crazy stuff happened, and I thought, 'Oh my gosh, this is perfect for my obsession idea.' It kind of becomes a wish-gone-wrong scenario. It’s pretty simple idea that we probably have seen before, but I just had to make it as different and unique as possible.

Was this an idea that always felt like a feature to you rather than a short?

I thought of it as a short at first because at that moment in my career I was doing a lot of short films. I don't know if you could even call it a career at that point, it was just a hobby and trying to build my resume and portfolio. I thought of it as a short film but I always think about a feature, you know, just to hope and pray that it could ever be a possibility.

When you were writing the film, did it feel like a very different challenge to sustain a narrative at feature length?

Definitely, yeah. I mean, the one thing you don't want is for it to just feel like a short film that's been stretched into an hour and 30 minutes. You have to keep it engaging. The main challenge for me with this movie is making sure it's not repetitive, because there's only so many things you can do with this idea, there's only so many ways she can go crazy. I didn't want to make it a rampage killing movie where she becomes possessed and starts killing people for no reason. If she's gonna kill somebody, it has to be because she sees that as a huge obstacle between her and Bear, so I was just reminding myself constantly when writing, what is the goal of each character? What's the goal of Nikki? The goal of Nikki is just to be with Bear, that's all she wants. What are the obstacles in her way? When you remember that, it becomes a little easier to write a film like this.

While there are elements of violence and horror in the film, I appreciated the amount of time you take to build up to those aspects. For much of the movie, we’re just sitting in these awkward situations with the characters and observing that shifting dynamic.

Yeah, I wanted the movie to have a build up to it, I feel like it wouldn't have been as powerful if some of the crazy stuff happened earlier and it wouldn't have been as effective. One of my favourite movies in the last ten years is Joker, the Todd Phillips film, and I'm always thinking about ‘What's my Joker moment?’ Because that movie is great at showing us, okay, he's definitely not a good person, he's got mental health issues, there's something weird going on here. Yeah, he kills those people on the subway, but it all feels like it's building up to something…and then boom! He shoots the guy on live television. That was such a crazy moment for me in the theatre. So to recreate that was my goal. Like a Joker moment. What's the moment where you're like, ‘Wow! Holy crap!”

A large part of why the film works is Inde Navarrette’s performance. She's great at immediately showing us who Nikki is and then she does some amazing work as the character gradually gets more unhinged. What is your process for working with actors and drawing a performance out of them like that?

As a horror director, it's your job to wrap everybody's head around what you're trying to do, because everyone's first instincts are going to be to do the thing we've seen before. I always told Inde I want her to play a crazy jealous girlfriend, not to play a demon-possessed woman, so leaning into crazy jealous girlfriend, you get a lot of whininess and pleading, and that was what we worked on a lot. Sometimes I would make a fool of myself on set because I would be doing this weird whining and trying to show her what I want, and I like to keep it really light on set. I think just because we're making something with really dark subject matter, it doesn't mean everybody can't laugh and have a good time on set, so we would laugh and I'd show her my whine, and it kind of worked like that. We watched some movies together too. We watched Pearl, that's a movie about being obsessed with wanting to be a movie star. We watched Hereditary, which is a movie that's got very raw and very real emotion, so we wanted her to see that, and just going scene by scene with her.

 
I think the real horror in the movie is when you consider the situation from her perspective, and when you give us these flashes that remind us the real Nikki is still in there somewhere.

Yeah, and you don't know where she is, you don't know what she's going through. You just know that whatever it is, it's bad. There's something really creepy about the unknown, that dark void that your mind goes to when you don't really know, and I wanted to keep it like that. That mystery is so much scarier than flashing to her in Hell and seeing her being burnt by fire or whatever you want to say. It wouldn’t be as effective, for sure.

It’s also an interesting film about the nature of relationships between young men and women today, especially when the young woman can have no power in that situation.

I mean, I was more looking to make a really fun horror film. I think the movies that I look up to push the boundaries, and the movies that excite me have characters that are grey and don't always do the right thing. This movie is a fictional film, so there's elements in it that couldn't possibly happen in real life, when you're dealing with magic and stuff like that. Bear comes from a very innocent place at first. I think we can all relate to having a crush on a girl and that crush not being reciprocated and really feeling upset about that. It's what he chooses to do afterwards, that's very, very questionable. I wanted to write a character that was grey in that way because it's so much more intriguing to me to see him trying to make this work and trying to keep her as his girlfriend, rather than doing the right thing and making the whole movie about him trying to fix his mistake. It felt like a more intriguing story for me, and we don't often see the possessed person becoming the victim.

Watching a number of your shorts this week, one aspect of your style that certainly carries through into Obsession is the way you edit. You seem to really like an abrupt cut, and you often edit in and out of scenes in a way that’s unexpected and jarring.

Well, you’ve got to know the rules to break the rules, and I've been editing since I was 10 years old. It's something that I've been doing for a very, very long time. I know the flow of the scene and I know how it's supposed to go, and yeah, it is something that I really like to play with. These weird cuts and this way of cutting out before something finishes, or even sometimes lingering on something when the moment should be over, these are techniques that you can use to either build tension or make people feel weird. It's a thing that I'm still experimenting with, but I think that's part of my style and I'll continue to do that. 

The other consistent aspect of your style is that you favour a dark image, you use a lot of shadows to obscure what we can see. How did you work with cinematographer Taylor Clemons to create that look?

Yeah, oh my gosh, Taylor is so amazing. He's a fantastic cinematographer and I think that he will go down in history as one of the greats one day. This was his first feature as well but he is doing my next film and he is just so good. But you know, I had to get him on board for what I wanted to do, and I was very nervous about that, having never worked with a cinematographer before. I had to explain to him what I wanted to do with the aspect ratio and the framing, keeping it very still and not cutting a lot and being very intentional with it. But he was so on board that and I was like, ‘Oh my God, this is gonna work great!” The aspect ratio really lends itself to picture frames, if you notice the ratio of the film is actually the same as a picture you would take on your phone, but not the same aspect ratio of a cinematic movie. We wanted to create frames and keep the camera very still, almost as if you're just watching pictures of someone's life in a weird way. He's a master at lighting as well and we were having conversations about keeping her in the shadows but also being very intentional with it, you know, it's not every time, it's certain moments.

When you’re making films on YouTube you only have to please yourself, essentially. Here you have a number of producers who are all invested in the film and all have their own opinions. What was it like negotiating that?

Everyone has ideas and a lot of times they're good ideas, so you can listen to those, but people are also really good about letting me do my thing. In a different scenario, maybe I would have been working with people that weren't letting me do my thing and maybe the film wouldn't have been as good, but I'm lucky because they let me do my thing on this one, and now they're letting me do my thing on my next one. I got really lucky that I'm looked at and respected in that way. Even on this next one, all the suggestions that the producers had were actually really great, and I usually ended up taking their advice. I've been allowed to play, which I don't think is always the case, so it's been very good.

I know you made Milk & Serial for $800 so it’s a big leap to the budget for Obsession, but I think you made this for under a million dollars, which is still a very tight budget for this kind of movie.

Yeah, it was very low budget, under a million for sure. You could feel it on set, I mean, we were scraping pennies every single day. It was a very difficult project. It's so funny because we have the premiere in Los Angeles coming up and Focus is showing me what they're doing for the premiere and everything, and there are crazy things that we could not afford to do in the movie, you know what I mean? The premiere is going to have a more detailed XYZ than we even had in the film, because we just didn't have the money to do it. It's really funny and interesting.

Do you feel like your YouTuber background and mindset helps you work within the confines of a very tight budget?

Definitely, yeah. I mean, the only thing that is tough is that it doesn't really matter anymore what I'm used to, because everything takes so much longer. Even just getting an insert of a lamp or an insert of your phone or whatever can take 45 minutes. I'm used to just, ‘Put the camera there, get the shot, move on’. I try as much as I can to stick to my roots and I think, 'There's a scene where we're driving, let's just hop in the car and drive,' but no, we need police escorts, we need to be on a trailer. Like, Jesus Christ, you know? Everything becomes so difficult. I do try to cling on to my old ways as much as possible, but it mostly just becomes an annoyance for people that are used to doing things the traditional Hollywood way, and their way becomes an annoyance to me. Time is money and that can become stressful, because when that stuff takes really long time, I know I could have just knocked out this shot.

When you started making videos on YouTube, was working towards being a feature filmmaker always the goal?

I've been acting since I was four and then I was making little videos with my friends when I was 11 years old. I come from a very small town in Alabama where if you want to act in film, that opportunity doesn't really exist, so I realised I had to make my own films if I wanted to act in them, and I very quickly fell in love with the process of creating films. I mean, I was always looking towards the stars, always was striving to be a filmmaker, so everything was means to an end for me. I wasn’t anticipating how it was going to work out, not knowing that YouTube was the answer to everything. I tried everything, I tried film festivals, I tried local plays, I tried YouTube, and YouTube was the thing that took off.

Your story is not that uncommon at the moment because we're seeing a number of YouTubers transitioning to feature filmmaking. Are you conscious of a growing interest from distributors and the studios in YouTube creators, and what do you think is driving that?

It's so interesting because of course the buzzy thing is to say ‘YouTuber Curry Barker has become a filmmaker in the traditional space’, but my path doesn't feel that different to David Fincher or Steven Spielberg or whoever. I mean, watch The Fablemans. Steven Spielberg was making shorts as a little kid and he becomes a filmmaker, like I made short films over and over again, trial and error, harnessing my craft. I just happened to have a platform called YouTube where they got attention. The discoverability is so much more vast now because of platforms like YouTube, but I don't feel like my path is very different to the traditional route.

 
Do you feel there's a sense of community with the other filmmakers of your generation who are coming up through YouTube? You feel like you're part of a new wave?

I think so because I talked to the Filippo brothers and I'm also super familiar with the influencer space. I've also been lucky enough to talk to Ari Aster and Zach Cregger and I have their phone numbers and they give me great advice. It does feel like a little bit of a community. Anytime we link up, we do talk about it, that we're this generation, this is our moment, you know? It does feel like a community.

One of the things that connects you with many of the filmmakers who are of your generation and some just before as well, is that you're making horror films but you kind of have a background in comedy. I'm thinking of the Filippo brothers, Zach Cregger, Jordan Peele, etc, who all have sketch comedy backgrounds. Do you see that as a natural progression?

I absolutely do. I don't think it's that comedy and horror are similar, because they're very different, but I think what's similar is the muscles and the skills that you use to create tension and fear in a scene can be very similar to the skills that you use to create comedy. I can only speak for myself, but I've spent a lot of time studying the human condition. In sketch comedy after sketch comedy, you start to realise that the way humans act is very funny and you start to find humour in the awkward moments. My brain is always turned on, whether I'm at a drive-through or a restaurant, or I'm in an elevator and there's some awkward beat or whatever; ‘Oh, it would be funny if this happened or it'd be funny if the waiter said this.’ When you're constantly studying the human condition and the psychology of why people say things or how people react to things, that really lends itself well to horror. The horror I try to make is all about dread and discomfort and those things are often very funny too. 

After years of releasing your work on YouTube, it must have been a real kick to see Obsession on the big screen with a crowd.

Oh, absolutely. All that hard work and the time that you pour into a film when you're in the middle of creating it, it feels really great to finally see people react to it. ‘Oh, that moment actually worked, I didn't know if that moment was gonna work or people would picked up on that small dialogue thing there.’ It really all pays off. Sometimes moments don't pay off and you're like, ‘Ah, nobody understood it.’

Did you do test screenings with the film?

Yeah, we did. Small test screenings, very discreet. People had the note of Bear not wanting to fix it and that kind of encouraged me to go even further the opposite way. People wanted him to go on a journey to fix it and it made me go, no, I'm going to make him go on a journey to make this work. Sometimes people don't necessarily know what they want, they know that there's a problem but they don't know how to fix it. I understood what the problem was and then I kind of flipped how to fix it.

Do you see yourself continuing to produce YouTube videos going forward or do you think that stage is behind you now and you're going to focus on features?

There's a couple of short film ideas in my phone that I'm dying to make. It would be so cool to just make a short and throw it up, but oh man, it's so tough because I have no time. I mean, I'm about to hop right into Texas Chainsaw and write that as soon as I have free time, and I'm editing anything but Ghosts right now. It's just me, I'm the editor, so I have 12-hour days of editing until it's done, just refining and perfecting that film. You know, every film is my baby, so I want to nurture it as much as possible. It becomes really hard to do the YouTube thing now, but me and Cooper still want keep the sketches going for as long as we can, it just probably won't be as often as people are used to.

Jason Blum has come on board Obsession as an Executive Producer, and you’re working with him on Anything But Ghosts as well. What has his involvement brought to the project?

Well, it's brought his fan base, the Blumhouse fan base, which is very loyal. You can see the uptick in comments of people that love what Blumhouse does. He wasn't really involved in the making of the film, but he's very involved in marketing and selling the film and making sure people go and watch it, which is very, very helpful for me. He's a huge part of my next film, in this case he is involved in the making of it, and he's a great collaborator. Again, really letting me do my thing, and the notes that he's had have been very short and sweet and helpful. I’ve enjoyed my collaboration with him a lot.

You mentioned The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I'm sure you can't say a great deal about your approach to that story at this stage, but what are your thoughts on taking on such an iconic property, which will bring a whole new level of attention and pressure with it?

For my own personal wellbeing, I have to push all of that away. I know that the real pressure is that this franchise is so dear to so many people, but that’s not just with Texas Chainsaw, it’s with every film. Back when I was just doing YouTube stuff, I could fly. Whatever I wanted to do, I would do. If it was bad, then whatever, maybe I wouldn’t even post it or maybe I would post it and see what people thought, but it didn’t really matter. It was so low-stakes, so I was taking risks left and right. The thing is, the risks that I was taking were the things that made me the best. I need to hold onto that and not let the pressure get to me, focusing on what made my voice different and what people appreciated about my work in the first place.

Obsession is in UK cinemas now.