One crafty writer’s never-say-die quest to tell a story for the page or screen.

Hey! I’m that guy trying to sell my latest screenplay, publish it as a novel or die trying.

In DIE TRYING, you will get an unvarnished look at a bitterly honest writer struggling to make it. No name-dropping or Hollywood phoniness. Just the facts ma’am on what the media landscape is really like behind the curtain.

In TODAY’S ISSUE, I examine the horror hit film Obsession and the fear of vulnerability in young men.

This August, my wife and I will celebrate 19 years of marriage, and I’m still not afraid to be vulnerable, particularly when on the toilet.

Nearly 20 years in the game, marriage has become sitting on the can, and the toilet paper roll is empty. You shout to your wife in another room if she can get you some TP. She doesn’t hear you and shouts back, “WHAAAAAAAT?” You shout louder, and she shouts why are you shouting at me!? A long-term relationship becomes shouting from different rooms about very necessary things like toilet paper.

A long relationship can be skimpy on lovey-dovey big feels, but oh so real on how human beings really are. We agree to show up to each other unguarded. We learn to make concessions to ride out the bumps. We grow together, one roll of toilet paper at a time.

Thoughts on long-term relationships came to mind after I watched the Gen Z horror blockbuster Obsession and the peculiar state of young American men in a panic about showing vulnerability to a potential mate.

 OBSESSION: VULNERABILITY IS HORROR

Obsession, along with the other breakout horror hit Backrooms, which I wrote about last week, is having a New Hollywood moment. In the 1970s, cheaper films like Easy Rider spoke to hip, younger audiences and made the pedigree studio films made by older directors look archaic and stodgy.

Hollywood threw money at younger filmmakers, and careers by the likes of Coppola, Scorsese, and Spielberg were launched.

Obsession, written and directed by 26-year-old Curry Barker, was made on a $750,000 budget and has grossed $242 million worldwide at the box office.

The film, unlike its more cerebral Backrooms counterpart, shows its age.

It opens in a diner, where an earnest, if somewhat timid, young man extracts his heart from his ribcage and presents it on a platter to an unseen person. He speaks openly of his true feelings, yearning for the unseen person who turns out to be a waitress in a bit of fake-out role-playing.

Immediately, the young man, Baron “Bear” Bailey (Michael Johnston), recoils in disgust at his vulnerability display alongside his bro Ian (Cooper Tomlinson), who coaches his buddy on how to make his feelings known to their music store co-worker and friend Nikki Freeman (Inde Navarrette).

Act one breaks into act two when Bear buys a novelty gift that allows you to make a wish that just might come true. He breaks the magic stick in half, wishing for Nikki’s undying love. The film then explores, comedically and with horror jump scares, Nikki becoming the girlfriend from hell for the shy guy.

In essence, Obsession punishes the young man for his vulnerability and traps the young woman, Nikki, in a body takeover that is not undone until the tragic twist at the end.

For Obsession and filmmaker Curry, finding love is a minefield. Vulnerability for young men is horror.

Cultural chirpers like podcaster and author Scott Galloway have made it their mission to explore the male loneliness crisis. Young dudes, the stereotype goes, are videogaming in their parents’ basement, consuming too much porn and romantically investing in an AI girlfriend who will never turn them down.

Which brings me to 18 years ago at Fort Myers Beach in Southwest Florida. Two young people entered a beach novelty store and bought rings for each other because they didn’t have the money to buy real jewelry. They went on to hire a notary public for $75 to officiate their summer vows at a lake in East Naples.

This couple, my wife and I, have been married for almost as long as some of these Gen Z horror directors have been alive. We now scream at each other across rooms for toilet paper. Love endures beyond awkward, early displays of vulnerability.

For Obsession writer/director Barker and his entire generation, there is nothing to be afraid of.

Unless you have no one to give you a toilet paper refill…