‘Smile 2’ and the darker side of stardom

In 2022, writer/director Parker Finn came onto the horror scene with a pretty simple, effective idea: what if smiles were scary?

Obviously, there’s a lot more going on in “Smile,” but the strengths of that film – which follows a therapist (Sosie Bacon) who, following the suicide of one of her patients, begins seeing people smiling creepily at her around every corner – rest more in its gore and design than in its psychological undertones. Lately, people love to say that a horror movie is actually about trauma ( insert Jamie Lee Curtis montage here ), and “Smile” fits that bill, its supernatural force feeding on pain and guilt. The movie, while fun, lacks any real specificity or depth. Yes, it’s about trauma. But that’s kind of it.

“Smile 2” is similarly fun and not that deep, but it also adds a certain ingredient that allows Finn to reach for something a little more interesting and topical – this time, the trauma feeder is not after a therapist, but rather a pop star. This small deviation allows this film to find some of the specificity the first lacks, digging into the most visceral and upsetting aspects of stardom with glee.

The pop star in question is Skye Riley (Naomi Scott), who’s back in the spotlight a year after a car accident that injured her and killed her actor boyfriend (Ray Nicholson). Newly sober and gearing up for a comeback world tour, Skye visits her old drug dealer, Lewis (Lukas Gage), to pick up some Vicodin – pain from the accident still lingers, and she has a hard time getting prescriptions because of her history with substance abuse. When Lewis, under the influence of the mysterious monster, brutally kills himself in front of Skye, she begins to have increasingly disturbing experiences, all centering around a smiling figure.

So, yes – the trauma aspect of the first film is still on full display here. It’s what the entity feeds on, and Skye has more than enough to go around. But Skye’s internal struggle – and therefore the monster itself – manifests more as self loathing than anything else. She’s a perfectionist, a recovering addict who’s working through chronic pain to put on a show that’s primed to make a lot of people a lot of money. She constantly worries that she ruins everything she touches, frets over getting the choreography just right, recoils with disgust at the deep scar that runs along her abdomen. But, whenever she expresses any of this to someone, she’s rebuffed. Her relationship with herself is characterized by self-hatred, and that bumps up against the frenzied adoration – and contempt – she gets from the public.

The first time we see Skye, she’s on an episode of “The Drew Barrymore Show,” apologizing for her past behavior and promising to do better in the future. It’s a cycle we see often with famous people; the celebrity messes up, disappears for a while, and comes back better than ever with an apology for the public (although, perhaps it’s not the public who really needs that apology). This is the parasocial relationship that dictates Skye’s life, and it also informs how the entity manifests for her. After an overly-obsessed fan accosts Skye during a meet and greet, she sees a naked, smiling version of him standing menacingly at the end of her hallway, a very real fear suddenly taking form. In one scene, the monster takes the form of all of Skye’s backup dancers, who grab and tug at her body as if they can’t get enough of her, trying to take a piece for themselves until there’s nothing left.

Skye’s self-destructive tendencies and the pressures foisted on her by others collide in increasingly distressing ways. Over the course of one rehearsal, she’s late, accuses a background dancer of being out of place, and screams at her assistant for something he didn’t do. All of this “diva” behavior is a direct result of the monster, but explained away as exhaustion, or dehydration. Skye constantly tries to tell people in her life that she’s not sure she can make it on tour, but no one will listen. They just shove a fancy water bottle at her (“Smile 2” also functions as a VOSS ad) as if that’s the cure for everything. She is an object to be gawked, adored, or hated – not a real person.

Very quickly, “Smile 2” becomes a fun critique of the way the public relates to stardom. At the aforementioned meet and greet, fan after fan excitedly tells Skye how much they love her, or how her music saved their life, or asks if they can sing (badly) one of her songs for her. The expectation is for her to appear bright and engaged the whole time, to act as though every repeat interaction is a brand new experience, to be polite even when she’s made to be uncomfortable. The smiling entity shows up during the meet and greet, but funnily enough is not even close to the worst interaction Skye has that day – she’s a pop star, after all. People are always smiling at her for painfully long periods of time.

Painfully long is a great way to describe the filmmaking in “Smile 2, which, although it relies primarily on jump scares, does a good job at making you wait for the payoff. There are many long, uncut sequences, the camera following Skye around while the audience grows increasingly tense, waiting for that tautness to break. The film loses its stride sometimes in its down moments, but Finn’s penchant for a killer ending – the first film’s end is probably its strongest gambit – returns here with a vengeance. The connection between fan and star is solidified with a bloody good performance.

The post ‘Smile 2’ and the darker side of stardom appeared first on Rough Draft Atlanta .