Written and directed by Parker Finn
Starring Sosie Bacon, Jessie T. Usher, Kyle Gallner, Robin Weigert, Kal Penn, and Caitlin Stacy
Rated R for strong violent content and grisly images, and language
Runtime: 1 hour 55 minutes
In theaters September 30th

by Olivia Hunter Willke, Staff Writer

“I like a lot of teeth,” director Parker Finn knowingly quipped at the world premiere of his feature debut, Smile. That preoccupation is evident as protagonist Dr. Rose Cotter (Sosie Bacon) descends into a waking nightmare of dental display. While working in the emergency mental intake ward of a hospital, Dr. Cotter witnesses a patient’s grisly suicide. Haunted by the wide, uncanny grin pasted on the patient’s face as she slashes her own throat, Dr. Cotter begins to experience strange happenings around her, that same grin seemingly inescapable. After several nights of research and days of torment, she learns that these occurrences are part of a larger evil, one that appears unavoidable. As things quickly escalate and time is running out, Dr. Cotter realizes that she must confront her past, including her own mother’s suicide, to overcome the wicked entity before it is passed on to another.

Trauma horror seems to be ever in vogue these days. From Ari Aster’s deplorable villainization of a character vaguely and irredeemably labeled “bipolar” in Midsommar, to Jordan Peele’s deft exploration of terrifying racial tension and the open wound of slavery that festers to this day in Get Out. Smile fits right in alongside them, the supernatural entity literally spreads through trauma, the witnessing of suicide. What separates Smile, though, seems to be an understanding of mental illness in general. Instead of treating those suffering from hallucinations, obsessive thought, or disconnection from reality as “unhinged,” it brims with empathy during most of the runtime. The perspective of a mental health worker on the frontlines of care for every social class and possible diagnosis grants the audience implicit sympathy. Dr. Rose Cotter has compassion, so, too, do we. There is even talk of inherited genetics, dismissal of requested medicinal assistance, and home visits from medical professionals fearing a “danger to yourself or others,” things those who have suffered lifelong mental illness are all too familiar with. Even the setting of the mental ward is fairly accurate, with sparse furniture and dim pastel walls, no sharp edges, and scantly decorated. A breath of fresh air from a genre that exploits insanity so often. Executed with an unassuming stylishness that draws the eye in only to leave you peering through the gaps in your fingers during moments of quiet, unable to look away.

Although Rose has compassion for those under her care, she is terrified of slipping into a state of psychosis herself. Which makes it all the more devastating when those around her, including her husband-to-be, Trevor (Jessie T. Usher), refuse to believe she is being haunted and instead assume she is suffering a breakdown. Despite the darkness invading Rose's life, the film mostly takes place during the day. The scares are not coming from some inky nightmare, but everyday interaction that is suddenly and viscerally disrupted. Overcast days are spent wide-eyed and alert, the camera closing in on Dr. Cotter's insomnia-laden face as time passes and hope drains. Smile obviously makes it a point of focusing on facial expression. Facades are studied, making their distortion by haunting grimace more abruptly shocking. "Jump-scares" are proficiently exhausted until the reveal of a phantasmagoric embodiment that assembles imagery ranging from Japanese folklore (Kuchisake-onna) to Internet lore (Creepypastas). As most horror does, the film manipulates deeply human fears and contorts them into monstrosity.

The care and understanding we feel for those suffering on screen make the turn to callousness in the final act even more unforgiving and injurious. Suddenly, the empathy is gone and the suicides we felt for just moments ago are weaponized, made out to be contemptible themselves. It is a puzzling mutation, one that feels like a betrayal. In the film’s final moments, every ounce of mercy that was afforded the viewer is torn to shreds and replaced by blistering contempt. The resilience of Dr. Cotter and, in turn, the audience, is trampled. What at first seemed a supernatural illustration of the manifestation of inescapable suicidal thought transforms into an exercise in pure sadism. Smile morphs into its own monster and no amount of craft can save us from it. It is a shame that a film with potential to break free of the taboo of suicide as a terror device instead succumbs to, and fully endorses, such harmful ideals. Not only is it cruel, it is detrimental.