By the time Ringu had hit UK cinemas, a full two years had passed since Hideo Nakata’s vision based on the novel by Koji Suzuki was realised in front of a Japanese audience, becoming the highest grossing horror film for the country.
When I finally sat down to watch the film to shelter from a wet summer in London, at one of my regular haunts, The Curzon Soho, I was unaware of the significant impact it would have on my own journey through the realms of horror cinephilia. It would mark the rise of J-Horror alongside Pulse (Kairo) and The Grudge and in its wake, would revolutionise the genre, and push numerous Western remakes and similarly styled movies for the best part of a decade.
Part of its appeal would be generated through the grainy film effect, with a slowly drawn out, tension building threat to generate a new style of scare. It came at a peak time during the transition of old and new technology, thrusting the fears of ancient beliefs and rituals with a growing anxiety over the future of mankind. By infusing these two elements, it confronted its audience, daring them to awaken their agitation and curse them, fueling this further and forcing the characters we follow to an early grave.
For me though Suzuki and Nakata’s brilliance comes through bringing the onryō, otherwise known as a vengeful spirit, before a modern audience. With the character of Sadako, the creatives found a host to enact her wrath and fury upon any who encountered her spirit. With all this pent up aggression tied in with her supernatural abilities; a visually striking and haunting look, namely the long black hair cast over the female face, hiding the true horror from the unwitting recipient, whilst clothed in a full white dress; a symbol itself a juxtaposition of innocence and purity, would thrust her front and centre into cinematic history.
It’s now been 25 years since its official release and yet its resonance is still felt. When watching it again, I am instantly transported back to my first viewing in a darkened auditorium, and the thrills and scares that were evoked. It’s why Ringu always makes its way towards the top of my all time favourite horror film list. It’s iconic and translates across time and culture.
Saul Muerte
Check out more thoughts from the Surgeons team in our podcast episode about the Ring franchise.
One of the first things you learn in the field of advertising is the concept (and then painstaking explanation of the difference) between Idea and Execution.
In an advertising sense, a strong execution can make for a great one-off ad, but a STRONG IDEA can make for a great campaign (made up of MANY executions) over a period of months.
And a BRILLIANT idea? One that speaks to the HEART of the proposition or product you’re promoting? That can last decades.
This isn’t restricted to creative endeavours either. In an episode of the Big Bang Theory, Sheldon and Leonard get into it over which is more important (idea or execution) when they haggle over credit of a scientific discovery they’ve made together.
And therein lies the crux of this review.
On the surface it would seem the answer to the question, “which is more important, idea or execution”, the answer would appear to be…Idea.
That’s what I was always taught. But as a director once told me many years ago – when discussing different video gauges – “What’s the point of busting a nut shooting something on the best format possible if the person watching it sees it on a TV that looks green?”
This was in the days before digital formats and flat screens, but what he was saying made an uncomfortable sense. There’s a reason why cinemas are still in business despite recent innovations in home entertainment systems. Nothing beats a cinematic experience, even if the movie itself is shit.
Another way of looking at it is through your ears. A lot of sound engineers & producers will tell you, if the album you’re crafting sounds good on shit speakers, it’ll sound AWESOME on good ones.
So, execution is not nothing. And – in this reviewer’s typically long-winded way – we get to the crux of Smile.
On the surface of it, it is a completely unoriginal idea. An unseen all powerful McGuffin tortures a person, puts them through hell, kills them, and then moves on to the next victim.
It Follows anyone? Truth or Dare anyone else?
For those of you who saw the trailer and thought this was another “one of those” type of films, you’d be right! Right down to the way they usually start, middle and end.
But UNLIKE those movies, this one has been wildly successful ($216 million to date against a budget of just 17). In fact it’s been so popular it has crossed over into mainstream popularity (you know you’ve made it big when you get mentions on American late-night talk shows).
But why? Admittedly it had a clever marketing campaign but at the risk of alienating my advertising brethren who I so lovingly mentioned at the head of this article, so what?
People don’t throw money at a volume of 12 to 1 at a movie unless it has something IN the product itself. And so with Smile, what is it?
Well – if you’ve been paying attention so far – if it’s not in the idea, then it has to be in the execution.
Here at Surgeons of Horror we have mentioned several times during our many podcasts that horror –as a film genre–is easy to do. But hard to DO WELL.
That’s because in the moment of actually making a horror, NOTHING is scary. The moment is out of context, contrived and repeated until an acceptable take is achieved.
The scary comes in the editing, and this movie is well put together.
From accomplished jump scares to decent tension and build up, a film like this hinges heavily on the lead actor (in this case Sosie Bacon) to sell the trauma of what she’s going through without getting annoying; and she by & large does a very creditable job.
In a nutshell, Smile is a cookie cutter template taken straight from the maguffin curse book. A curse puts a person through hell before killing them (in this case, by making them commit a grisly suicide) before leaping on to the next person (specifically, the one who witnessed the suicide) and so on.
What ensues is the usual steps of unsettling happenings leading to bigger and bigger scares; the protagonist goes through the standard stages of disbelief of the curse, believing the curse, understanding the curse, and finally, defeating the curse by – and this bit is a must – FINDING A LOOPHOLE as laid out by the rules of the curse.
But does it work? Well – how Smile handles that is straight out of the playbook too. Twisty twist included. Although – and this is an interesting observation to its execution; because the movie Truth or Dare would make people smile in a crazed CGI assisted way, this movie – when anyone does the same – does so without digital assistance.
Which is a pity, as a slight and unnaturally skewed smile is very unsettling in the best traditions of the uncanny valley. And although it is ALWAYS trendy to say ANY movie with SPFX is better without CGI, in this case it would have helped an already well made film even better. CGI is an arrow in a film-makers quiver. And as with all such tools, it’s all about how you shoot it.
The Prognosis:
So Smile is not very original. But it is very well done, and there is the (now) ancient and famous fable taken from the greatest summer blockbuster horror of all time – as said by its director – “If I’ve done my Job right for the first 100 minutes, then people won’t care that shooting an oxygen tank in a shark’s mouth won’t blow up in the last 2”.
(I may be paraphrasing)
But the point is, as a movie Smile earns a lot with its reminder that whilst Idea is indeed more important, a great idea will never be great without a fitting Execution. And that’s something to… err, grin about.
Admittedly my only entry into this feature for my retrospective journey into Universal Horror movies of the 1950s, would be through the comedy review series, Mystery Science Theater 3000. The fact that the object of said show is to ridicule the subject under scrutiny didn’t bode well for my viewing experience, but I tried to do so with an open mind.
The Thing That Couldn’t Die would be helmed by Will Cowan for what would be his last feature film as a director. Based on an original screenplay by David Duncan (The Monster on the Campus) entitled The Water Witch, where a young psychic woman, Jessica (Carolyn Kearney) discovers a mysterious box from the 16th century. The contents of which contain the head of Gideon Drew (Robin Hughes), a man executed for sorcery 400 years ago and begins to use telepathy in order to control people. This far-fetched tale is hard to connect with, much like Drew’s plan to reunite his head with his body. Even if you are willing to bow to the whims with a suspension of disbelief, there is little substance beneath the melodramatic telling on show.
It is inevitable that an achilles heel be placed to set up Drew’s downfall, and this comes in the guise of an amulet that Jessica is in possession of. The mold may have been set but it’s a struggle to find any glowing elements to give it praise for. It doesn’t help that upon its release, TTTCD was billed alongside Hammer’s The Horror of Dracula, a film marking significant changes on the celluloid screen. The years have not been kind and with little availability out there, most cinephiles have to resort to the comical observations that MST3000 as its only source to survey with.
As we close in on the end of the 50s and my introspective look back at Universal Pictures shift away from the horror genre in contrast to the rise of Britain’s Hammer Film Production, I cast my gaze upon the 1958 feature, Monster On The Campus. The focus of the American film distribution was to scrutinize the subject of evolution and devolution from the perspective of University Professor, Dr. Donald Blake (Athur Franz). Written by novelist David Duncan, MOTC would be directed by alumni Jack Arnold (Creature From The Black Lagoon, The Incredible Shrinking Man) who would go on record to state that this wasn’t his finest work; an opinion which I’m inclined to agree with.
The story would find Blake becoming infected with a partially-thawed coelacanth. This produces a transformation in his cells into an ape-like creature that causes havoc through the campus, drawing inspiration from Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It takes the player involved some time to work out the cause of this mayhem however, allowing for anarchy to reign until the inevitable dramatic conclusion and the reveal of the cause to the effect. The tragedy however is a little bereft of any real impact and the viewer never really grips or raises the tension out of the scenes as it unfolds.
The film itself would be somewhat dwarfed by the more colourful British feature, Blood of the Vampire, which it shared billing with on the cinema circuit. It does boast solid supporting roles in the mix, with Joanna Moore cast as the women in peril figure Madeline; Judson Pratt as Lt. Mike Stevens; and Troy Donahue in one of his earlier performances, here playing local boy Jimmy Flanders. From a modern perspective it is hard to shift away from the make up effects that are a little less than desired, especially compared with today’s standards, but stuntman Eddie Parker does a convincing job of portraying the ape creature when in its fits of rage. Some scholars have also used this feature as a subject on conformity, and the need to fit into society when one feels constantly on the periphery. For this, it is a bold story and deserves your attention. It does fall foul to the more impressive and grand features that were rising up at the time in contrast and suffers as a result across the ages.