ReportWire

Tag: Smile movie

  • The Voss Water Repetition in Smile 2 and What It Says About Film Product Placement Today

    The Voss Water Repetition in Smile 2 and What It Says About Film Product Placement Today

    [ad_1]

    Perhaps even more than the various terrifying scenes of Smile 2, what audiences are seeming to remember most after seeing Parker Finn’s sequel is the rampant product placement for Voss water. Woven so “naturally” into the script as a kind of “character quirk” that Skye Riley (Naomi Scott) feels the need to grab a bottle of Voss every time she feels “out of control.” And yes, this is explained in fairly elaborate detail to her best friend, Gemma (Dylan Gelula, who will forever be Xan in Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt). A best friend who, for the last year, was an ex best friend due to Skye’s Britney Spears-in-2007-level breakdown after getting in a car accident with her boyfriend, Paul Hudson (Ray Nicholson). Both were, it should go without saying, intoxicated and, no, her boyfriend did not survive the crash.

    In the aftermath of the accident, Skye only began to use drugs and alcohol all the more (coping mechanisms and all that rot), acting out erratically toward those in her life who were closest to her…Gemma included. But now that she’s being essentially forced to make a comeback (again, sort of like Britney after her 2007-early 2008 turmoil), Skye has never felt more alone or more mistrustful of the numerous sycophants around her. This extends to her “momager,” Elizabeth (Rosemarie Dewitt), and their joint assistant, Joshua (Miles Guitierrez-Riley). Hence, her desire to reach out to a no-bullshitter like Gemma again.

    Right after she gathers the courage (not to mention summoning the total loss of pride and dignity) to call Gemma and admit that 1) she misses her and 2) she wants her to come over for some emotional support, Skye makes a beeline for the Voss water, chugging it as though she’s just come off the field in the wake of scoring the winning goal for some nail-biting soccer game. The audience doesn’t yet know why Voss water is such a “thing,” perhaps initially assuming that there won’t be any explanation at all about it—that it’s just one of the more glaring examples of unapologetic product placement in recent years. In fact, maybe not since Pizza Hut in Back to the Future II has product placement been so unabashed. Except, in that case, the product and its distinctive logo were used to underscore a point about all the so-called advancements that would happen in the future. Conversely, in Smile 2, the brand is less about “progress” (unless referring to the emotional kind) and more about convenience. And, obviously, Finn thought that having Skye actually say the brand name might be the one way to go “too far” with product placement.

    However, just because “Voss” isn’t said aloud at any point doesn’t mean that Finn doesn’t end up calling plenty more attention (than is really necessary) to the brand via her character quirk. One that is explained when Gemma obligingly materializes at her apartment despite all the bullshit Skye put her through during her atomic meltdown. Unfortunately fro Gemma, she shows up just as The Smiler (which has, by now, possessed Skye for about twenty minutes’ worth of the movie) has done a hallucinatory number on the pop star, prompting her to act more skittish and erratic than usual. And also sending her straight for the bottle…of Voss water.

    That’s right, she doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that the two haven’t spoken or seen one another in a year before she goes for the Voss as a source of comfort. Watching her drink an entire bottle, all Gemma can say is, “Thirsty?” It’s then that Finn gives Voss its real moment to shine by interweaving it (albeit using a generic name: water) into the dialogue as Skye explains, “This therapist from my recovery program, she suggested that anytime I feel overwhelmed by the urge to use or get drunk, that I should stop whatever I’m doing and drink a full glass of water. It’s supposed to be some form of acknowledgement for what I can and can’t control.” (Never mind that Voss bottles aren’t exactly “a glass” of water.)

    Though that doesn’t really seem to apply to what brand of water she has available to her. Granted, Voss is supposed to be “renowned” for being reserved solely for the bougie set (it even seems to appear—or at least a bottle that has the exact same size and style—in Anora, when Vanya [Mark Eydelshteyn], rich son of a Russian oligarch, hands “Ani” [Mikey Madison] the water she asked for while over at his mansion). Even though it was once rumored to be bottled at the same source where tap water comes from in Iveland, Norway. But one supposes that rich people are willing to shell out high amounts (let’s call a bottle of Voss five dollars) so long as they’re told the product is of the “finest” quality. For, as is the theme in Smile 2, it’s all about what you think anyway, not reality.

    As for what the elaborate and heavy-handed use of product placement in Smile 2 reflects in the movie-going audiences of today is that, more than ever, people need not just repetition to remember a brand, but to have the product become a part of the storyline in a way that ends up being “integral” to either the character or the plot. And, in this case, both—though the viewer won’t know just why it’s so central to the more hallucinatory aspects of the plot until much later in the movie.

    [ad_2]

    Genna Rivieccio

    Source link

  • Smile 2: Stars—They’re Just Like Us!, Or: Even Pop Stars Get Demonically Possessed

    Smile 2: Stars—They’re Just Like Us!, Or: Even Pop Stars Get Demonically Possessed

    [ad_1]

    With such pressure to outperform the success of 2022’s Smile, writer-director Parker Finn wanted to approach the movie’s sequel from an entirely new angle. And what could be more divergent from the setting of the first movie than the (theoretically) high-glamor world of pop stardom? In Smile 2, the pop star in the eye of the proverbial storm is Skye Riley (Naomi Scott)—think of her as an Ashley O (Miley Cyrus) from Black Mirror type, or even a Celeste from Vox Lux sort. Or, if one wants to make real-life comparisons, there are a few similar options to choose from, including Halsey and Lady Gaga. It is the latter that Naomi Scott specifically calls out as a source of inspiration, particularly her early 2010s aesthetic and musical vibe.

    But then, of course, there is the Britney Spears element of it all—not just in terms of Skye being scrutinized for her “bad,” drug-addled behavior, but also because of the nature of her relationship with her mother, Elizabeth (Rosemarie DeWitt). It is she who embodies the entire Spears family by acting as her “momager” and, therefore, usually being most concerned with how much money Skye can make for “them” (but really, for Elizabeth). During her “off the rails” period, Elizabeth was clearly more concerned with “getting her back on track” for financial reasons as opposed to reasons related to concern for her well-being. Which, yes, smacks of the way Britney was given essentially no time to recover after her 2007 through early 2008 breakdown before she was cajoled into putting out new music and going on a tour. In many regards, too, Skye’s substance abuse and mental breakdown that caused her to cancel her last tour bears a similarity to Jocelyn’s (Lily-Rose Depp) backstory in The Idol (and yes, Spears was also the blueprint for creating the Jocelyn character, as was the abovementioned Ashley O).

    In order to do some “damage control” for that breakdown, which came to the fore after she got in a car accident with her boyfriend, Paul Hudson (Ray Nicholson—that’s right, the son of Jack), while both were intoxicated, Skye agrees to make her first promotional appearance in a year on, of all things, The Drew Barrymore Show. Which makes plenty of sense when one takes into account the meta nature of Drew Barrymore being an essential to the opening of any horror movie.

    What’s more, there’s even another new pop star in the game that exhibits occasional similarities to Skye—at least in terms of her emotional fragility. That pop star being, of course, Chappell Roan. Particularly in terms of how creeped out Skye starts to get by her obsessive fans—even if that’s due, in part, to “The Smiler” (as the demonic essence/antagonist of the movie is called) making them seem creepier than they actually are…to an extent. Because everyone knows fandoms really can come across that way. In any event, the “creep factor” doesn’t just include The Smiler’s ability to make fans at a meet-and-greet smile at her in that eerie, plastered-on way, but also its ability to make them seemingly appear anytime, anywhere. Most chillingly of all, inside of her massive NYC apartment, where one especially notable scene (the one where a gaggle of them are leering/diabolically smiling at her from within her closet, before chasing after her throughout the abode) comes off as a re-creation of how Roan must more than occasionally feel about her own obsessive fans: like they’re going to fucking murder her and wear her skin.

    Needless to say, The Smiler is tapping into Skye’s dormant anxieties about her fans and their potential for “going totally psycho” on her at the drop of a fedora hat (that’s a 2003 Britney reference). To be sure, The Smiler is having an even easier time toying with and preying upon the headspace of a pop star, though that’s not why Finn opted to make Smile 2 come from this perspective.

    Instead, Finn’s decision to render the Smile 2 universe from the view of a pop star was largely due to his desire to challenge himself with the difficulties that setting and lifestyle would present. As Finn recounted to The Wrap, “I really wanted to step back from what I had done in the first film, and try to be like, ‘What is the least likely path forward for a sequel?’ I really wanted to challenge myself and drill down. Any idea that I could come up with that first week or two, I was like, ‘This is too obvious.’ I really held it to task.” The result is a breed of horror that’s right at home with pop music and celebrity, for as many a famous pop star keeps emphasizing more and more: there’s nothing fucking scarier/more potentially life-threatening than being known on an international level. Making the pressures of an already demanding job become further compounded by all the scrutiny. Add a “cosmic evil beam that no one else can see” into the mix and the pressure becomes insurmountable (which, in Skye’s case, results in severe bouts of trichotillomania).

    Indeed, this turns out to be one of the most surprising statements of Smile 2: that it’s almost a kind of defense/“let’s have more empathy” for famous people manifesto. As The Wrap phrased it, “This isn’t someone who can suffer in isolation. Everyone will see her disintegrate.” And that makes everything feel so much more heightened—not just for Skye, but for the audience watching, often suffering from second-hand embarrassment as they watch her “biff it” in very public scenarios. For example, while acting as a presenter at a music industry charity event, Skye not only goes out onstage nwith smeared lipstick (after swatting away a bug from her face backstage), but also proceeds to act increasingly unhinged once the teleprompter ceases to show her what she’s supposed to say next.

    Of course, no matter what she says or does next, in the end, just as it was in Smile, Skye 1) can’t even be sure what is and is not reality and 2) it won’t matter if it is or not anyway since The Smiler is bound to have his “committing suicide” way with her. Granted, the manner in which the “entity” does it this time around has far graver consequences for the witness(es) of her death. But at least those taking in Skye’s demise can relish that certain “Stars—They’re Just Like Us!” quality. Even if nothing could be further from the truth.

    [ad_2]

    Genna Rivieccio

    Source link

  • Smile, Though Your Trauma Is Radiating

    Smile, Though Your Trauma Is Radiating

    [ad_1]

    In numerous manners, Smile is rife with meaning about a certain karmic retribution against “the shrink.” The one who, like Dr. Rose Cotter (Sosie Bacon, that’s right, Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick’s nepotism baby), says things such as, “I’m sure what you think you’re experiencing feels real. But it’s not.” And while she watches her patients’ pain with something that more closely resembles pity rather than empathy, she assures them that whatever they’re “imagining” will soon pass, as she usually deals with the kind of “crazy” (to use the ableist term) that falls under the umbrella of paranoid schizophrenic types. Like a patient of Rose’s named Carl (Jack Sochet), who frequently chants things like, “I’m going to die, Mom’s going to die, we’re all going to die” and “nobody matters.”

    At the seemingly state-funded hospital Rose works at, such encounters are merely par for the course. Except that with Laura Weaver (Caitlin Stasey), a PhD student who recently witnessed the suicide of her professor, it becomes rapidly apparent that she isn’t fucking around when she says something’s after her. And that Rose is about to know exactly what it feels like for someone’s “visions” to be dismissed as nothing more than a “psychotic episode.”

    When Rose subsequently witnesses Laura cower to the ground and crawl backwards in terror from an invisible presence, it’s obvious that an “entity” is possessing her, entering her. Running for the phone on the wall, Rose calls for help, turning around to find that it’s already too late. The very thing Laura described to her, people smiling at her—but not in a pleasant way—has taken over on her own face. Or what used to be her own face. For it now belongs to the evil being that slits her throat.

    As for writer-director Parker Finn capitalizing on smiling as a source of terror, it’s true that when one thinks about “the smile” as a concept, everything about it really is quite sinister, creepy. The baring of teeth, the seeming stoicism of the eyes. And, of course, don’t even get one started on the inexplicable phenomenon of laughter, which can cause some to suffer from gelotophobia as a result of the often malicious intent associated with this highly human expression. In any event, the eeriness of a human smile is played up when, at a toy store that Rose enters to buy a train set for her nephew, the camera pans down to a 50s-style rendering of a white family grinning. The truth belying such smiles as these being the rampant racism “required” in the U.S. for the whites of the country to be so prosperous in the post-war years and beyond. So yes, Smile itself makes a searing observation on how, commonly, something sinister and menacing is beneath it—those “innocent” bared teeth, waiting to sink into one’s trauma in the case of Smile.

    Just as Rose seemed almost to get off on trauma herself, much like the demon antagonist in the film, using it as a life force to keep her going. Running on fumes through eighty-hour weeks to the point that her boss, Dr. Morgan Desai (Kal Penn), insists that she leave for the day. And maybe, if she had been able to resist answering the phone that she hears ringing in her office after already departing, she wouldn’t have taken Laura on as a patient, therefore not been a victim of this curse (talk about an undercutting cautionary tale about not becoming a workaholic). One that allows a chain to go unbroken as the “Smile demon” hops from person to person after entering them and puppeteering their body to kill themselves in whatever grotesque fashion the demon sees fit. Perpetuating and propagating the cycle through getting the person watching to feel traumatized, thereby marking said person as the demon’s next target. A demon who, to add to one’s overall feelings of “being crazy,” can take on any human form of anybody that the target might know, even those from their past who have already died. And yes, the entire reason Rose became a psychiatrist was because, at the age of ten, she witnessed her own mother commit suicide. In fact, this is the moment that commences the movie, giving us plenty of insight into why Rose does what she does, as well as her level of trauma.

    Her older sister, Holly (Gillian Zinser), had already fled the scene by the time Mother punched her own ticket, leaving Rose to discover their matriarch in such an indelible state. In the present, it’s clear the relationship is still strained between the sisters, as self-involved Holly talks of nothing but her son and his activities—and how it takes up all of her personal time—or how Rose ought to sell the house they grew up in so they can split the profits. But, for whatever reason, Rose needs to hold on to that piece of the trauma. Already on edge after seeing Laura slit her throat, this dinner conversation leads Rose to yell at Holly to just fuck off about it. And at least before her ostensible “breakdown,” she had the excuse of needing to be at work as a reason to avoid going to her nephew’s seventh birthday party. Alas, after Dr. Desai orders her to take a week off for her mental health, her Saturday is suddenly free.

    And so, looking like a combination of Marcia Gay Harden and her own mother, Kyra Sedgwick, Rose applies some concealer beneath her dark circles and heads to the fête, foolishly thinking it might be a good distraction rather than the demon’s next hunting ground. Complete with a dead animal moment the likes of which has not been as memorable since Fatal Attraction. No matter to the demon, who can’t be concerned with the lengths it will go to damage not only Rose’s credibility, but her personal relationships. Including the one with her fiancé, Trevor (Jessie T. Usher), who quickly shows his ass, so to speak, when it comes to reneging on that “in sickness and in health” caveat. Even stooping so low as to throw back in her face that mental illness runs in the family. Thus, can it be any wonder that Rose turns to her ex, Joel (Kyle Gallner), for some “comfort”? But really, because she needs his police officer access to case files for Laura and Laura’s professor, which leads her to understand that, yes, this is very much the epitome of a vicious circle. Wherein one person kills themselves in front of another each and every time.

    What Rose hadn’t bargained for was the “hallucinations” that Laura had also talked about. Seeing the demon in different guises and scenarios that we’re never totally sure are real until we get an “afterward” confirmation that the demon did, in fact, grab hold of her mind, noting very disturbingly toward the end, “Your mind is so inviting.” And that’s, of course, because it’s laden with trauma.

    A lead that Joel gives her as he does his own digging into the pattern (from a place of still being in love with her, obviously) prompts Rose to seek out a man named Robert Talley (Rob Morgan), presently in prison for killing his neighbor in front of someone else, so that the witness to the murder would get the curse instead. Not exactly fair, but that’s self-preservation for you. And clearly, the unspoken solution throughout Smile is that Rose ought to just kill herself (or rather, “let” herself be killed)—the same suggestion also present in An American Werewolf in London—in a remote location so that the cycle will break without a witness to see it. But no, Rose is evidently too vain to kill herself and too pure of heart to kill someone else. This is what one could call the embodiment of being caught between a rock and a hard place.

    Territory Rose is all too familiar with after what happened with her mother, and having to make a particular decision on that front as well. One that stems from ultimately doing nothing at all, for inaction is a type of decision, too. As Finn’s first feature film (based on a short called Laura Never Sleeps), it’s very palpable that he’s been building toward this movie his entire life, not only because he attended the same high school in Bath, Ohio as gruesome serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer, but because he has studied the horror genre since he was a preadolescent, influenced by every great from John Carpenter to Wes Craven.

    For Smile in particular, Finn called out being inspired by Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (in terms of “not being believed” and increasingly “gaslit”) and Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Cure (for its “nightmarish atmosphere”). What’s more, it goes without saying that It Follows and The Ring are very much present in the narrative. To boot, Todd Haynes’ Safe was another key influence with regard to imbuing the audience with the same level of anxiety as the main character. To that end, the sound editing throughout Smile is absolutely paramount (no reference to the company that distributed Smile intended) to the sense of dread experienced throughout.

    Talking of “sound,” perhaps the only major critique of the movie, really, is that Finn didn’t manage to employ the sardonic use of either Lily Allen’s “Smile” or Nat King Cole’s “Smile” during the credits (but definitely not Katy Perry’s “Smile”). Giving either one of the songs the “Jordan Peele treatment” (e.g., “Say My Name” or “I Got 5 On It”). However, as Mia Farrow once said in The Purple Rose of Cairo, “You can’t have everything.”

    [ad_2]

    Genna Rivieccio

    Source link