Released in 2023 on his channel That’s a Bad Idea, The Chair is a 24-minute masterpiece in indie horror that puts Obsession to shame. Watching this after seeing Barker’s 2026 feature film is a trip through my brain’s graveyard. You can see all the imagery he would later stretch until it snapped: the screaming woman with the wicked smile, the self-inflicted head-bashing, and the total erosion of reality.
The difference? It actually works here. The Chair is tight, creepy, and doesn’t have enough time to disappear up its own ass. And it all starts with somebody else’s trash.
One Man’s Trash Is Another Man’s Time-Loop
The setup is a “Rebel” scout’s dream: Reese (Anthony Pavone) finds a free cushioned chair at the curb. We’ve all seen the drill on a Sunday morning, but we don’t usually have a creepy old man standing on the porch watching us load his discarded junk into your car.
He brings it home for his girlfriend Julie (Haley Schwartz), and they have the kind of banal argument couples have over household aesthetics. Reese sits in it to prove a point, and and then the first “glitch in the matrix” hits. Reese finds himself back at the curb sitting in the chair, with the old man still standing there on his porch.
When Reese finally gets back home, trying to find out what the hell is going on, Julie walks in with…the chair. Only now, she loves it, she wants to make him happy, and she claims their argument happened a week ago.
Lost Time and “Nikki-Before-Nikki”
This is where The Chair succeeds and where Obsession failed for me: there’s urgency. Reese has lost a week. The roses he gave Julie are dead. He’s been fired for “bizarre behavior” he doesn’t remember. The chair is sitting in the corner like a tenant who doesn’t pay rent, and the horror comes from the total gaslighting of Reese’s reality.
Barker uses his signature “Wicked Smile” trope here with surgical precision. When Julie sits up in bed and gives Reese that unsettling, wide-eyed grin before denying she ever screamed, it’s effective because it’s a “Quick Hit,” not a two-hour slog. The “Nikki-before-Nikki” energy is high, but here, she feels like a victim of the chair’s orbit, not just an NPC in a cruel game.
Twenty-Four Minutes of Discarded Furniture
The final act is a 16:9 descent into madness. Cops arrive, Reese is a wanted man, and the apartment becomes a theater of the absurd. One cop disappears into the bedroom with Julie while the other sits in THE CHAIR and then at some point begins rhythmically smashing his head into a bookcase.
It’s a brutal, recurring Barker image, but in a 24-minute short, it hits like a Cinematic Espresso shot. By the time Reese wakes up holding a bloody hammer he doesn’t even remember having in the first place, surrounded by his “guests” propped up like dolls while the old man explains the afterlife, you realize the chair didn’t just come with an old man — it came with a death sentence.
The Verdict: Don’t Pick Up Roadside Furniture
The Chair did something Obsession couldn’t: it left me wondering instead of irritated. Is Reese dead? Is the chair a supernatural conduit? Is the pressure of a six-month relationship just breaking his brain?
I don’t want an official answer. Barker proved here that you don’t need $750k and a studio hype machine to find the Fire. You just need a simple, terrifying idea and the balls to end the story before it becomes “Trauma Porn.” James Harris thought this would make a great feature. He was right about the potential — he just forgot that sometimes, the Fire only burns bright when the fuse is short.
🔥 Final Verdict: WATCHABLE. Creepy, weird as hell, and the ultimate cautionary tale for anyone tempted by a “Free” sign on a Saturday afternoon.
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