The morbidly funny horror sequel ‘Smile 2’ explores the the dark side of celebrity

The psychology of the modern global pop star is a potentially rich subject for exploration. Kudos to writer-director Parker Finn for trying to tackle it head-on in the form of a gory horror sequel.
“Smile 2” stars former Disney Channel personality Naomi Scott as Skye Riley, a sleekly anodyne stadium-sized singer à la Ariana Grande. She’s a real talent as opposed to a packaged product, but her platinum-plated persona is on the verge of shattering.
As the film opens, she’s recovering from an alcohol-fueled car accident that turned her into gossip-blog fodder, and perched on the verge of a comeback tour. Skye needs support, but unfortunately her mother (Rosemarie DeWitt) also happens to be her manager, and she’s got her eye on the bottom line: affecting a tone that’s more mercenary than maternal, she tells her daughter to put on a brave face.
The irony that a young woman who’s being advised on all sides to grin and bear it would accidentally run afoul of a malevolent entity associated with smiling is darkly funny, and “Smile 2” is best viewed as a black comedy — one that understands the ridiculousness of its own premise.
When “Smile” came out in 2022, its array of repetitively conceived and executed set-pieces made it seem like an overextended short, and Finn doubles down on the formula in this second instalment. Everywhere Skye goes — her hotel, her rehearsals, a charity dinner — she’s haunted by visions of toothy intruders, which come accompanied by jump-scare chords on the soundtrack.
After a while, the basic tension of this setup transubstantiates into impatience, and then boredom, and then, a little bit later, all-out silliness. By the halfway point, following the fifth or sixth rictus-grinning phantom, it’s hard tell if we’re supposed to be cowering in the theatre, or giggling, or a little bit of both.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that: both humour and horror are involuntary responses, and “Smile 2” is probably best enjoyed in the company of genre fans happy to be pandered to by skilful and shameless entertainers.
As for the sociology, Finn’s idea that fame and fortune aren’t synonymous with happiness isn’t exactly original, but he finds a few striking ways to visualize it, such as an extended passage in which Skye suffers a hallucination involving a group of silent, staring superfans stalking her in a formation that resembles her own stage show’s choreography. It’s an unabashedly goofy image that nevertheless gets at something unsettling about the contemporary cult of celebrity. Ditto the finale, which most viewers will see coming many miles away, but which still hits a high — and dissonant — note of morbid pop-cultural satire.