smile 2

Grim and gory and directed with smatterings of panache by Parker Finn, who also wrote and directed the sleeper hit original, Smile 2 harbors many unsettling jump scares. With its nihilistic bent and gruesome flashbacks, this one could be triggering for those trying to heal past traumas. Set mostly in New York City (though seemingly not filmed on-location; its locations are noted as being throughout the state), pop star Skye Riley (Naomi Scott) is back on the comeback scene in the aftermath of bruising drug addictions and a car wreck. In the film, Drew Barrymore, a performer who has struggled with her own past addictions, summarizes the exposition by introducing her on her talk show (in the media landscape, this would be a perfect, welcoming choice for an embittered star to appear). Riley is a Lady Gaga / Billie Eilish hybrid, short-haired and bottle-blonde, wearing oversized sweatshirts and guzzling bottles of VOSS (an antidote from her doctors against using again), and also donning glitzy get-ups for photo shoots and music videos (the film boasts a slew of original glitchy dance-pop songs, many co-written by Scott, that are, surprisingly, not that bad, and are a campy respite from the drudgery). Her mother Elizabeth (Rosemarie DeWitt) acts as her manager; she could have easily been an over-the-top stage mom, but Finn's writing and DeWitt's canny performance shape her with an underlying, simmering, passive aggressive tone. Plagued by back pain after her accident, Riley attempts to score some Vicodin from dealer Lewis (Lukas Gage). The scene is tense, with his jittery, manic presence, and tragedy predictably ensues. Riley becomes infected with the "smile curse," a brutal state of psychosis that's passed along like chain-mail--making sense only in the rules of a horror film or a feverish nightmare. 

The curse, with its reality and time-bending peculiarities, allows Finn to once again roam through macabre mind ticks and tricks freely. Here, his film delves into the pressures and stresses of being a performer within the horror genre, perhaps sometimes alluding to Natalie Portman's demented disorientation in Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan. The film makes an interesting companion to Coralie Fargeat's The Substance, though that film, especially with its finale, is far more effective. Lester Cohen's skillful production design captures the lavishly wall-papered, cocoon-like setting of Riley's luxury apartment, and the hallowed out insides of a shuttered restaurant, and a drug dealer's lair in winter. The film is most potent, and a bit fun, in a carnival ride way, when it strives for stripped-down scares, like when Skye's dancing troupe, turned into devilishly-grinning hallucinations, follow her around her apartment. It's when the film goes for creaky, CGI-looking effects, that the movie gets less involving, that unfortunately includes the film's ultimate landing. Still, thanks in part to Scott's oscillating emotions and bulging glares, a ride through Skye Riley's mind is a harrowing trip to endure. **1/2

-Jeffery Berg

another dysfunctional family

Jonathan Demme is still primarily known for his harrowing The Silence of the Lambs. An unlikely but deserving winner of five Academy Awards, the film remains one of our best and unique thrillers. Demme's direction often studies behavior. He came into his own two years ago with the poignant and ambiguous character study of Rachel Getting Married. It was critically praised but the Dogme 95 style and tragic story (its original advertisements and title seem to promise a romantic comedy) left audiences chilled. The film is one of Demme's best in a rich career of many different flavors and risks including documentaries, the offbeat Something Wild, the breakthrough mainstream AIDS drama Philadelphia, and the adaptation of Toni Morrison's Beloved.

Demme returns to much of the same material of Rachel Getting Married with his new off Broadway production of Beth Henley's (Crimes of the Heart) Family Week. The story centers on a suicidal woman Claire (Rosemarie DeWitt, also of Rachel in which she played the title character so brilliantly) who after the death of her son, admits herself to a recovery center in the desert. The title refers to the visiting of her kin, her mother (Kathleen Chalfant), her young daughter (Sami Gayle) and sister Rickey (Quincy Tyler Bernstine). Through the tumultuous therapeutic sessions, some of which seem bogus, others which seem to have some validity, the clan reveal many painful secrets to one another.

I wonder if Henley's writing, at times acidic and funny, despite the tragedy in the material, often gives too much away. Even though they are in different mediums, I can't help but compare Rachel Getting Married to Family Week and their similar pilings on of domestic traumas. The experience of Rachel Getting Married and its unraveling of family drama worked so well in the cinematic format: the closeups, the claustrophobic and dizzying feel of a busy house in preparations. On a sprawling stage, with some interludes of song (mostly appropriately dusty western tunes from the likes of Emmylou Harris) under moody lighting and complete with a vivid desert background, Family Week sometimes feels a bit repetitious. It was particularly difficult to connect with Claire's character, perhaps because she was so forgone (she holds a teddy throughout most of the production). Because of this, the play lacks a center to hold on to. In Rachel, damaged Kym (Anne Hathaway) bitterly drew us into her world. Whereas the family in Rachel (and too in Ordinary People, another extraordinary portrait of a family coping with tragedy) have been dealing with their wounds for a long time, the tragedy in Family Week is very fresh. Because of this the play works best when in its quirks: we learn that Claire eerily sent Rickey flowers from her dead son; in a closing monologue, Claire stunningly opens up in an odd and brilliant meditation of the body.

Even though the material is sometimes difficult to connect with, it's definitely not the fault of the four actors. The best, and most refreshing of all is Quincy Tyler Bernstine, who injects most of the play's humor and pathos. Her Rickey is very real, spontaneous, and layered (a child prodigy grown up and now broke). One hopes to see more roles for such a talented actress, her speaking voice is just incredible. I felt sympathy for DeWitt who is saddled with many heavy and emotional monologues. She carries it all so deftly without going overboard. Her tearful glares are unforgettable. Her daughter (Sami Gayle) is appropriately whiny, insecure, and precocious. And her WASPish mother is well played by Chalfant who is desperate for "hydrating soap" throughout the play, as if wanting to wash away the past.

Ticket information for Family Week.