You know that feeling when you're watching something and you want to crawl inside your own shirt and disappear? That’s basically the entire runtime of The Curse. It’s a Showtime/Paramount+ series that stars Nathan Fielder and Emma Stone, and honestly, it’s one of the weirdest things to hit television in the last decade. It isn't just a show about a bad marriage or a failing HGTV pilot. It's a surreal, biting critique of white savior complexes, gentrification, and the performative nature of being a "good person" in the 2020s.
People weren't sure what to make of it when it premiered. Was it a comedy? A horror show? A satire?
It’s all of those.
Working with A24, creators Nathan Fielder and Benny Safdie (who also stars as the chaotic producer Dougie) crafted something that feels less like a narrative and more like an endurance test. It follows Whitney and Asher Siegel, a married couple trying to film a pilot for their show Flipanthropy. They want to revitalize Española, New Mexico, by building eco-friendly "passive houses." But they’re doing it in a way that feels incredibly parasitic. Then, a young girl supposedly puts a "curse" on Asher after a staged moment for the cameras goes wrong.
Everything spirals from there.
The Cringe is the Point
If you’ve seen Fielder’s previous work like The Rehearsal or Nathan for You, you know he thrives in the space between reality and performance. But The Curse takes that to a much darker place. Whitney, played with terrifying precision by Emma Stone, is a woman obsessed with her image. She wants to be seen as an ally to the indigenous community, but she’s constantly overstepping, overcompensating, and making everything about her own moral standing.
Asher is different. He’s awkward. He’s desperate. He has no natural charisma. Watching him try to navigate social situations is like watching a car crash in slow motion, but the car is made of glass and the road is covered in salt. The show uses a lot of "voyeuristic" camerawork—filming through windows, around corners, or from far away. It makes you feel like a stalker. You’re watching these people implode in private moments they think no one else can see.
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It's uncomfortable because it's recognizable. We've all met a Whitney. Maybe we've even been a Whitney at some point, trying too hard to say the right thing while completely missing the point of the person standing in front of us.
Why Española Matters
The setting isn't just a backdrop. Española is a real place with a complex history, and the show doesn't shy away from the tension between the wealthy "flippers" and the local residents. The Siegels aren't just building houses; they're erasing the culture that was there before them under the guise of "helping."
One of the most striking things about the show is how it handles the art world. Whitney’s parents are notorious slumlords, a fact she tries desperately to distance herself from, yet she uses their money to fund her "altruistic" projects. It’s a circular logic of guilt and ego. Benny Safdie’s character, Dougie, acts as the catalyst for their worst impulses. He’s a guy mourning his own tragic past by stirring up drama for the sake of "good TV."
He knows that conflict sells. He knows that the Siegels are phonies. And he leans into it.
That Ending (No Spoilers, But Wow)
We have to talk about the finale. Without giving away the literal mechanics of what happens, the final episode of The Curse is one of the most polarizing hours of television ever produced. It shifts the show from a grounded (if weird) social satire into something completely different. Some people hated it. They felt it came out of nowhere. Others saw it as a perfect, literal manifestation of the themes the show had been building all season.
It forces the viewer to ask: what happens when the world finally pushes back against someone who takes up too much space?
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The physics of the finale are bizarre. It’s haunting. It’s also weirdly funny in a "I can't believe they're doing this" kind of way. It’s the kind of ending that stays with you for weeks, making you re-evaluate every tiny interaction from the previous nine episodes.
Breaking Down the E-E-A-T: Why This Show Works
Critics from The New York Times and Vulture have spent thousands of words dissecting the symbolism here. They point to the "Passive House" as a metaphor. These homes are designed to be airtight, reflecting nothing but the outside world through their mirrored surfaces. They’re beautiful, but they’re also suffocating. Just like Whitney and Asher’s marriage.
The performances are top-tier. Emma Stone won a Golden Globe for this role for a reason. She captures the micro-expressions of a person who is constantly "on," even when she’s alone. Nathan Fielder, usually known for playing a version of himself, proves he can actually act in a traditional sense, even if his "character" is someone who is fundamentally incapable of acting natural.
The show doesn't give you easy answers. It doesn't tell you who to root for because, frankly, there isn't really anyone to root for in the traditional sense. You’re just observing a disaster.
Common Misconceptions About The Curse
A lot of people go into this expecting a "Nathan Fielder show" where he pranks people. This isn't that. While there are moments that feel like a prank, it’s a fully scripted drama.
Another mistake is thinking the "curse" is a supernatural horror element. While there are eerie vibes, the real curse is the characters' own personalities. It’s their inability to be authentic. The "curse" is the anxiety that grows in the gap between who they are and who they want the world to think they are.
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Honestly, the show is a bit of a Rorschach test. What you find most upsetting about it says a lot about your own social anxieties.
- Is it the way they treat their employees?
- Is it the cringe-inducing comedy segments Asher tries to do?
- Is it the sheer pretentiousness of the art gallery scenes?
There is no wrong answer.
How to Actually Watch It
If you’re going to dive in, don’t binge it. It’s too heavy for that. The "cringe" accumulates. It’s better to watch an episode, sit with the discomfort for a day, and then go back. Pay attention to the sound design. The score, composed by Daniel Lopatin (Oneohtrix Point Never), is synth-heavy and unsettling. It sounds like something is constantly about to break.
The Curse is a landmark piece of media because it refuses to be "content." It isn't background noise. It demands your full, undivided, and often painful attention. It mocks the very idea of "lifestyle" television while being hosted on a platform that thrives on it. That irony isn't lost on the creators.
Actionable Insights for Viewers
If you've finished the show or are halfway through, here is how to get the most out of the experience:
- Research the "Passive House" movement: Understanding the real-world architecture the Siegels are obsessed with makes their failures even funnier. These houses are real, and the "airtight" requirements are a genuine engineering feat—and a perfect metaphor for isolation.
- Watch "The Rehearsal" next: If you want to understand Nathan Fielder’s obsession with "simulated reality," his HBO series is the natural companion piece to this show.
- Look into the history of Española: The show references real tensions regarding land rights and indigenous history in New Mexico. Knowing the context of the Tewa people and the Pueblo communities adds layers to Whitney’s "activism" that you might miss otherwise.
- Re-watch the first scene after the finale: Once you know how it ends, the very first scene of the pilot takes on a completely different, almost prophetic meaning.
The show is a mirror. It’s uncomfortable to look at, but you can’t really turn away.