Curses That Creep: Dissecting the Relentless Grip of Smile and It Follows

In a world where fear spreads faster than whispers, two films capture the primal terror of curses that latch on and never let go.

Modern horror thrives on intimate dread, where supernatural afflictions mirror the vulnerabilities of everyday life. Smile and It Follows stand as twin pillars in this subgenre, each wielding the concept of a contagious curse to probe the boundaries of human endurance. Released nearly a decade apart, these movies transform abstract anxieties into visceral pursuits, forcing us to confront isolation, intimacy, and inevitability.

• Both films master the contagious curse trope, turning personal encounters into inescapable doom, but diverge sharply in their monstrous manifestations and narrative rhythms.
• Through innovative sound design and cinematography, they craft atmospheres of mounting paranoia that linger long after the credits roll.
• Their cultural resonance reveals evolving fears, from post-recession ennui in It Follows to pandemic-era isolation in Smile, cementing their places in horror evolution.

The Spark of Infection: Origins of the Curse

In It Follows, David Robert Mitchell introduces a curse transmitted through sexual intimacy, a sly nod to urban legends like the vanishing hitchhiker twisted into something profoundly modern. The protagonist, Jay, inherits it after a seemingly innocuous date turns nightmarish. The entity adopts innocuous disguises, shuffling towards its victim at a walking pace, relentless yet eerily patient. This setup immediately establishes a rhythm of dread, where the curse feels both ancient and acutely contemporary, echoing fears of sexually transmitted diseases reimagined through supernatural lenses.

Smile, directed by Parker Finn, pivots to a more immediate vector: witnessing a suicide induces the curse, marked by the victim’s grotesque, rictus grin. Dr. Rose Cotter, a therapist played by Sosie Bacon, becomes afflicted after a patient’s horrific self-slaughter. Here, the transmission underscores voyeuristic horror, implicating the observer in the act. Finn draws from Japanese folklore like Kuchisake-onna, the slit-mouthed woman, but Americanises it into a smirking demon that haunts through psychological unraveling. Both films root their curses in human interaction, yet It Follows emphasises delayed reckoning while Smile accelerates into immediate psychological fracture.

These origins set the stage for deeper explorations of contagion. It Follows lingers on suburban ennui, its Detroit backdrop a hazy expanse of empty pools and abandoned houses, symbolising a generational malaise. Smile, set in a crisp urban hospital, reflects frontline worker burnout, a timely evocation of real-world stressors amplified by the supernatural. Mitchell’s film premiered at Cannes in 2014, earning critical acclaim for its minimalist terror, whereas Smile exploded from a short film adaptation into a 2022 box office smash amid pandemic anxieties.

Transmission Tactics: How the Curse Spreads

The mechanics of passing the curse form the narrative spine in both pictures. In It Follows, sex becomes both salvation and sin, a desperate act of delegation that implicates friends in a chain of survival. Jay and her circle experiment with distance, cars, and even firearms, but the entity’s persistence underscores futility. Mitchell films these handoffs with clinical detachment, heightening the moral ambiguity: is passing it on mercy or murder?

Smile inverts this with a stricter timeline, seven days until the host must witness another suicide or perish grinning. Rose’s attempts to offload it involve confronting family traumas and institutional doubt, culminating in ritualistic confrontations. Finn employs jump scares more liberally, but the curse’s spread critiques empathy’s dark side, where helping others risks infection. Unlike It Follows’ elective transmission, Smile’s feels punitive, a karmic backlash against emotional detachment.

Production insights reveal clever constraints shaping these rules. Mitchell shot It Follows on 16mm for a grainy, dreamlike quality, budgeting around two million dollars to prioritise atmosphere over spectacle. Finn, expanding his short Smile into a feature, navigated studio expectations at Paramount, blending indie grit with mainstream polish. Both leverage simplicity: no elaborate lore dumps, just rules that propel character-driven horror.

Monstrous Pursuers: Forms of the Unseen

The entities themselves define each film’s terror quotient. It Follows’ shape-shifter morphs into loved ones or strangers, always approaching on foot, a deliberate choice Mitchell attributes to evoking childhood nightmares of slow inevitability. No roars or gore, just the thud of footsteps growing louder, captured in wide shots that dwarf human figures against vast landscapes.

Smile’s grinning spectre bursts forth in grotesque visions, decaying faces and suicidal tableaux that erode Rose’s sanity. Practical effects by Jeremy Selen craft these apparitions with latex and animatronics, evoking early Cronenberg body horror. Finn balances subtlety with shocks, using the smile as a leitmotif that infiltrates Rose’s reality, blurring hallucination and haunt.

These antagonists symbolise intangible threats: STDs for It Follows, mental health crises for Smile. Critics note Mitchell’s entity as a metaphor for death’s approach, while Finn’s ties to generational trauma passed down like heirlooms. Their designs prioritise psychological impact, proving less is often more in curse horror.

Protagonists Under Pressure: Survival Arcs

Jay’s journey in It Follows evolves from disbelief to communal defiance, her friends forming an ad hoc family unit against the inexorable. Maika Monroe imbues her with quiet resilience, her wide-eyed vulnerability contrasting the film’s stoic dread. Key scenes, like the poolside standoff, showcase collaborative ingenuity born of desperation.

Rose Cotter spirals into isolation, Smile framing her as a Cassandra figure dismissed by colleagues. Sosie Bacon’s performance, raw and unravelled, anchors the film, drawing from her mother’s acting legacy for authenticity. Her arc peaks in a family confrontation, revealing the curse’s roots in suppressed grief.

Both women embody gendered horrors: Jay’s sexual transmission critiques purity myths, Rose’s professional scepticism mirrors gaslighting in mental health discourse. Their arcs highlight agency amid doom, with It Follows offering ambiguous hope and Smile a pyrrhic resolution.

Soundscapes of Slow-Burn Panic

Sound design elevates both to auditory nightmares. It Follows employs Rich Vreeland’s synth score, pulsing 1980s electronica that mimics the entity’s gait, creating hypnotic tension. Ambient noises—distant traffic, creaking floors—amplify isolation, Mitchell citing John Carpenter as inspiration for this retro palette.

Smile counters with dissonant strings and sudden stingers, Cristobal Tapia de Veer’s composition mimicking grinning teeth in jagged rhythms. Whispers and laughter haunt Rose’s periphery, underscoring auditory hallucinations. Finn’s mix leans into ASMR-like intimacy for scares, a departure from It Follows’ relentless drone.

These choices reflect directorial intent: Mitchell builds dread through repetition, Finn through eruption. Interviews reveal Vreeland improvised motifs during editing, while de Veer layered field recordings of smiles for uncanny effect.

Cinematography’s Grip: Framing the Fear

David Robert Mitchell’s wide-angle lenses in It Follows capture endless horizons, the entity often framed in depth-of-field shots that trick the eye. Shallow focus on faces during intimate moments contrasts the vast pursuits, emphasising emotional intimacy against cosmic indifference.

Parker Finn employs tighter frames in Smile, claustrophobic close-ups distorting smiles into monstrosities. Dutch angles and slow zooms mimic paranoia, with Ksenia Sereda’s Steadicam work creating fluid chases. Colour palettes diverge: It Follows’ washed-out pastels evoke malaise, Smile’s desaturated blues heighten clinical dread.

Both cinematographers—Mike Gioulakis for It Follows, Charlie Sarroff for Smile—prioritise negative space, letting emptiness breed terror. This visual language influences successors like Talk to Me, proving the subgenre’s stylistic blueprint.

Production Hurdles and Hidden Histories

It Follows faced financing woes, Mitchell self-financing early drafts before Radius-TWC backed it. Shot in one continuous Detroit summer, it overcame weather woes with guerrilla tactics. Legends swirl around its ending, debated as optimistic or nihilistic.

Smile originated as Finn’s 2019 short, greenlit post-festival buzz amid COVID delays. Budgeted at 17 million, it grossed over 200 million, navigating reshoots for clarity. Behind-the-scenes tales include Bacon’s intense preparation, immersing in therapy sessions for realism.

These challenges forged authenticity, their low-to-mid budgets yielding outsized impact through ingenuity.

Legacy’s Lingering Shadow: Influence and Echoes

It Follows reshaped indie horror, spawning imitators like The Endless while inspiring A24’s elevated output. Its curse mechanic permeates streaming era tales of viral haunts.

Smile ignited sequel fever, Smile 2 arriving swiftly, cementing Finn as a scream queen architect. Amid pandemic metaphors, it tapped collective trauma, boosting theatrical horror’s revival.

Together, they evolve the contagious curse from Hammer-era voodoo to psychological pandemics, their DNA in modern hits underscoring horror’s adaptability.

Director in the Spotlight

David Robert Mitchell emerged from Detroit’s indie scene, born in 1974 to a working-class family that nurtured his love for cinema. A self-taught filmmaker, he studied literature at Michigan State University before cutting his teeth on commercials and music videos. His feature debut, the coming-of-age drama The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010), showcased his knack for nostalgic unease, blending adolescent longing with subtle surrealism. Influences like Nicolas Roeg and Jacques Rivette shaped his elliptical storytelling.

It Follows (2014) catapulted him to international acclaim, earning cult status for its innovative horror. Mitchell followed with Under the Silver Lake (2018), a neo-noir fever dream starring Andrew Garfield, delving into Hollywood conspiracies and pop culture detritus. Though divisive, it affirmed his auteur status. His latest, Upon Entry (2023), a claustrophobic thriller about immigration paranoia, premiered at festivals to praise.

Mitchell’s oeuvre explores liminal spaces and unspoken fears, often set in American suburbs. He champions practical effects and long takes, resisting digital gloss. Awards include Gotham nods and BFI acclaim. Upcoming projects rumoured include genre hybrids, cementing his role as horror’s thoughtful innovator. Filmography highlights: The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010, rites-of-passage drama); It Follows (2014, curse horror benchmark); Under the Silver Lake (2018, surreal mystery); Upon Entry (2023, border thriller).

Actor in the Spotlight

Maika Monroe, born Dillon Monroe in 1993 in Santa Barbara, California, traded competitive kiteboarding for acting after high school. Discovered in Australia, she debuted in At Any Price (2012) opposite Dennis Quaid. Her breakout came in The Guest (2014), a synth-driven actioner where her steely presence stole scenes from Dan Stevens.

It Follows (2014) defined her as a horror scream queen, Jay’s vulnerability masking fierce determination. She followed with Independence Day: Resurgence (2016), proving blockbuster chops as a pilot. Colonia (2015) saw her opposite Emma Watson in a historical thriller, showcasing dramatic range. Greta (2018) paired her with Isabelle Huppert for psychological chills, earning festival buzz.

Monroe’s trajectory blends genre and prestige: Villains (2019) with Bill Skarsgård, Plain Clothes (2025) in post-production. Nominations include Fangoria Chainsaw Awards. Influences cite early skate culture and directors like Adam Wingard. Comprehensive filmography: At Any Price (2012, family drama); The Fifth Wave (2016, sci-fi invasion); The Guest (2014, home invasion thriller); It Follows (2014, supernatural pursuit); Greta (2018, stalker horror); God Is a Bullet (2023, revenge tale); Significant Other (2022, sci-fi horror).

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Bibliography

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McRoy, J. (2008) Nightmare Japan: Contemporary Japanese Horror Cinema. Rodopi.

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