From the outset, this may read like a horror entry, yet that impression quickly dissolves. Curse, known in Spanish as Curse, is an acid-tongued parody of reality shows, social media culture, and the performative drama that surrounds appearances. The project benefits from Emma Stone’s presence, a star currently enjoying a strong moment on the big screen. The film also nods to recent Oscar chatter, with the possibility of nominations for the year. The initial run is likely a single season early in the year, and as the weeks progress, the remaining episodes build toward a conclusive finish that promises to cap the story arc.
In Curse, Stone embodies the host of a reality program launched with her husband, portrayed by Nathan Fielder, focused on reviving abandoned houses and dilapidated streets in a New Mexico town. The project, presented under a Spanish name, evolves into a platform that preaches renewal and community development while inviting audiences to witness a social experiment unfold. The central irony is clear: the venture seems designed to convert dream houses into marketable commodities for the nearby shops and residents, inflated by carefully staged coffee moments on Instagram. From the start, it’s evident that the couple’s lofty mission hides more self-serving motives than noble charity.
Fielder, serving as one of the showrunners, is a distinctive television creator known for bending the rules of reality and fiction. The series leans toward a mockumentary sensibility, echoing the sideways gaze of a real reality program while cranking the edge of absurdity. It presents a landscape where predictable plot shifts are scarce, the music and soundtrack are intentionally restrained, and the audience feels as though they are watching a genuine, unfiltered story unfold in real time.
Buildings featured in the program appear as facades framed by mirrors, and the opening credits often close with an image that distorts like a carnival mirror. The live television camera shares this distortion, bending perception in tandem with each character’s behavior. The truth becomes less about what is real and more about what the camera chooses to reveal. In Curse, the camera’s narrative power outpaces any single plot twist, making the audience question whether honesty even matters once the lens is rolling.
The couple’s ambition is to craft a reality show that showcases their supposed virtue and flawless execution. Yet the continuous, intimate recording exposes every hidden flaw, every temptation, and every moral compromise. The production team includes Benny Safdie as a television producer whose approach is to prioritize catchy headlines and rapid edits over any true reverence for reality. The result is a show where the lines between ethical conduct and sensational content blur, and the audience witnesses the manipulation of ordinary moments into spectacle. Even when participants insist that cameras and microphones are off, the ongoing production suggests otherwise, underscoring the pervasive reach of the lens.
Early in the season, a volatile moment reveals the husband’s darker side as he confronts a journalist with troubling questions. In a troubling turn, he attempts to suppress evidence by purchasing a compromising tape. A sharper, more unsettling moment arrives when he films himself giving money to a person in need, only to argue over a returned coinage. That tense scene triggers the series’s central curse—the moment when mercy, power, and money collide—raising questions about the true source of virtue in a world obsessed with perception. The couple remains uncertain whether the alleged curse is real or a projection of their own fears and ambitions.
As the narrative advances, Emma Stone’s character emerges as someone who tries to present herself as morally upright whenever the cameras roll. Her smile carries a chilling undertone, capable of freezing the room, especially in scenes that mimic the sweetness of a classic romantic moment. The temptation to relive or replicate those moments clashes with the need to capture authentic behavior on a small-screen stage. The contrast between a seemingly perfect moment and the messy reality behind the scenes creates a tension that oscillates between farce and social critique, highlighting the fragility of manufactured virtue.
The series is unabashedly odd, provocative, and challenging to categorize. Yet for all its peculiarities, Curse invites viewers to step into a game where participation ensnares the participants and the audience alike. The experience can feel addictive, even as it unsettles. It is not a palate-cleanser but a provocative reflection on the optics of contemporary life and the price of wanting to be seen. The show thrives on discomfort and satire, using the truth about what people do for attention to illuminate broader truths about power, money, and what society celebrates on screen.