In the shadowy realm of curse horror, where malevolent forces latch onto the living, do the grainy images of a cursed videotape eclipse the rictus grin of a spectral smile, or does fresh terror outshine classic dread?
Curse horror thrives on inevitability, that creeping doom no amount of running can evade. Films like Gore Verbinski’s The Ring (2002) and Parker Finn’s Smile (2022) master this dread, pitting protagonists against supernatural entities that demand sacrifice to survive. Both draw from Japanese and American traditions of inherited horror, but which crafts a more potent spell? This analysis dissects their narratives, techniques, and lasting chill to crown the superior curse.
- Unpacking the Curses: How The Ring‘s videotape and Smile‘s grinning apparition weaponise personal trauma.
- Cinematic Craft: Sound, visuals, and performances that amplify unease in each film.
- Enduring Legacy: Cultural impact, franchises, and why one curse lingers longer.
Curses That Linger: The Ring vs. Smile – Which Haunts Deeper?
The Inescapable Hooks: Origins of Modern Curses
The horror of curses lies in their parasitic nature, latching onto victims and compelling them to spread the affliction. The Ring adapts Hideo Nakata’s Ringu (1998), transforming Sadako Yamamura’s vengeful spirit into Samara Morgan, a girl murdered by her adoptive mother and sealed in a well. Her cursed videotape, a mosaic of cryptic imagery—flies swarming, a ladder ascending into darkness, a chair rocking ominously—triggers a seven-day death sentence, marked by hallucinations and a final crawl from the television. Rachel Keller, a journalist played by Naomi Watts, uncovers this after her niece’s demise, racing to break the cycle by copying the tape.
Smile updates the formula with a demonic entity manifesting as a perpetual grin, passed through traumatic suicides witnessed by the victim. Dr. Rose Cotter, portrayed by Sosie Bacon, attends a patient’s self-inflicted death where the man sports an unnatural smile, muttering about ‘it’ following him. Soon, Rose experiences visions of smiling figures—her late mother, colleagues, even herself—culminating in auditory hallucinations of eerie humming and the compulsion to pass the curse via her own witnessed suicide. Finn roots this in psychological horror, blurring possession with mental breakdown.
Both films excel in establishing rules that heighten tension. The Ring‘s tape offers visual poetry, each symbol laden with backstory: the maggots foreshadow decay, the well mirrors Samara’s tomb. Viewers feel the analogue grit of VHS, a relic evoking pre-digital fears of contamination. Smile‘s curse demands spectacle—suicides must be seen—turning everyday interactions into traps. Rose’s therapy sessions and family gatherings twist into paranoia, the smile becoming a viral meme of malice.
Yet The Ring edges ahead in mythic depth. Samara’s origin, revealed through interviews with her birth mother Anna, a psychic horse breeder tormented by visions, layers equine terror (drowning horses symbolise her rage). This folkloric richness surpasses Smile‘s more abstract demon, whose lore emerges piecemeal via a cultish videotape parodying The Ring itself, complete with smiling faces instead of flies.
Seven Days of Dread: Narrative Structures and Pacing
Narrative momentum defines curse films; delays build anticipation, but drag risks boredom. The Ring unfolds over Rachel’s week, intercutting investigation with escalating omens: fingernails blackening, hair veiling her face like Samara’s. Verbinski balances sleuthing—visiting the Shelter Mountain Inn, decoding the tape—with visceral scares, culminating in Samara’s emergence, her matted hair parting for a deadly gaze.
Smile mirrors this countdown loosely, Rose’s days marked by intensifying smiles: a patient grins during a catatonic episode, her ex-fiancé Joel appears suicidal. Finn accelerates to frenzy, with home invasions and party massacres where guests drop smiling corpses. The finale in Rose’s childhood home ties the curse to her mother’s suicide, forcing a choice between perpetuating or ending it.
Pacing favours The Ring. Its deliberate rhythm allows dread to simmer; Rachel’s duplication of the tape for her son Aidan introduces moral ambiguity—salvation through infection? Smile rushes scares, stacking jump cuts and stingers, which thrill but dilute subtlety. Rose’s arc from sceptic to believer feels rushed, her institutionalisation a contrived hurdle.
Character motivations shine brighter in The Ring. Rachel’s maternal drive propels her, contrasting Aidan’s eerie acceptance. Noah, her ex, provides levity until his watery demise. Smile‘s supporting cast—therapist Dr. Gregory, cop Meredith—serve plot points, lacking the lived-in chemistry of Watts and Martin Henderson.
Soundscapes of Terror: Audio Assaults
Sound design elevates curses from seen to felt. The Ring‘s tape audio—droning moans, buzzing flies, a woman’s guttural cries—seeps into reality, phones ringing with Samara’s voice: "Seven days." Hans Zimmer’s score swells with dissonant strings, mimicking heartbeat pulses during climbs from wells.
Smile deploys a chilling lullaby hum, layered with cracking teeth and whispers. The score by Cristóbal Tapia de Veer pulses with tribal rhythms, amplifying grins as auditory hallucinations. A standout: Rose’s ears bleed while hearing incessant smiling chants.
The Ring wins for integration; sound foreshadows visually, like water drips heralding Samara. Smile relies on volume spikes, effective but less nuanced.
Visual Nightmares: Cinematography and Mise-en-Scène
Verbinski’s visuals haunt with desaturated greens and blues, the tape’s solarised footage evoking nightmares. Key scenes: the well’s ladder descent, lit by flickering lanterns; the TV crawl, Samara’s hand piercing glass in slow-motion realism.
Finn favours stark whites and shadows, smiles glowing unnaturally. The suicide opener’s single take builds dread; Rose’s mirror confrontations distort faces into rictuses.
Practical effects ground both: The Ring‘s watery corpse makeup, Smile‘s prosthetics for slashed throats. Yet The Ring‘s influence on J-horror aesthetics—long hair, pale skin—cements its iconic imagery.
Performances That Pierce the Soul
Naomi Watts anchors The Ring with raw desperation, her screams visceral, eyes wide with discovery. Daveigh Chase’s Samara chills in minimalism, a silent harbinger. Henderson’s Noah grounds the frenzy.
Sosie Bacon conveys Rose’s unraveling convincingly, panic escalating from subtle tics to hysteria. Kyle Gallner’s Joel adds pathos, but ensemble lacks spark.
Watts elevates The Ring, earning Oscar buzz post-film.
Thematic Echoes: Trauma’s Inheritance
Both explore generational curses. The Ring probes motherhood’s failures—Anna’s rejection, Rachel’s protection. Samara embodies repressed rage.
Smile dissects grief; Rose’s unresolved maternal loss fuels the entity, critiquing therapy’s limits.
The Ring delves deeper into media’s poison, prefiguring viral horror.
Special Effects: Crafting the Uncanny
The Ring blends practical and early CGI: Samara’s crawl uses wires and forced perspective, her emergence a puppet masterpiece. Water effects drench sets authentically.
Smile employs prosthetics for smiles, CGI for subtle distortions. Low-budget ingenuity shines in mass suicide illusions.
Verbinski’s effects age gracefully, retaining potency.
Legacy and Cultural Ripples
The Ring birthed a franchise—sequels, Korean remake—shaping 2000s horror. Its tape iconography permeates pop culture.
Smile, a sleeper hit, spawned Smile 2 (2024), revitalising curse tropes.
The Ring‘s broader impact prevails.
Verdict: The Superior Curse
The Ring triumphs. Its mythic depth, superior pacing, and visual poetry outcurse Smile‘s visceral jolts. While Finn’s debut impresses, Verbinski’s remake endures as curse horror’s pinnacle.
Director in the Spotlight: Gore Verbinski
Gore Verbinski, born Gregor Justin Verbinski on March 16, 1964, in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, emerged from a family of scientists—his father a physicist, mother a homemaker. Raised in California, he honed visual storytelling through commercials and music videos for bands like XTC. Verbinski’s feature debut, The Mouse Hunt (1997), a family comedy with Nathan Lane, showcased slapstick prowess.
His Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy (2003-2007) catapulted him to fame: The Curse of the Black Pearl revived the franchise with Johnny Depp’s iconic Jack Sparrow, blending swashbuckling action and supernatural lore; Dead Man’s Chest (2006) and At World’s End (2007) expanded mythos with Davy Jones and Calypso. These grossed billions, earning Oscar nods for effects.
In horror, The Ring (2002) marked his genre pivot, praised for atmospheric dread. Ring Two (2005) continued Samara’s saga. He explored animation with Rango (2011), a Best Animated Feature Oscar winner voicing Johnny Depp’s chameleon in a surreal Western. A Cure for Wellness (2017) returned to gothic horror, a visually opulent tale of Alpine sanatoriums starring Dane DeHaan.
Verbinski’s influences—David Lynch, Alfred Hitchcock—manifest in surrealism and tension. Recent works include 6 Underground (2019) for Netflix, a high-octane actioner with Ryan Reynolds. His style emphasises practical effects, sweeping visuals, and moral ambiguity, cementing his as a versatile auteur.
Actor in the Spotlight: Naomi Watts
Naomi Watts, born September 28, 1968, in Shoreham, Kent, England, moved to Australia at age 14 after her parents’ divorce. Early struggles included modelling and bit parts in Flirting (1991) with Nicole Kidman. Breakthrough came with David Lynch’s Mullholland Drive (2001), earning Oscar and BAFTA nods for her dual-role Betty/Diane.
The Ring (2002) followed, Watts’ Rachel Keller propelling her to stardom. She reteamed with Lynch for Inland Empire (2006). Action turns included King Kong (2005) as Ann Darrow, earning Saturn Award; Eastern Promises (2007) with Viggo Mortensen, another Oscar nom.
Diversifying, Watts shone in 21 Grams (2003) with Sean Penn, The Impossible (2012) as tsunami survivor, winning Goya. Fair Game (2010) portrayed Valerie Plame. Television: The Loudest Voice (2019) as Gretchen Carlson, Emmy-nominated.
Filmography spans I Heart Huckabees (2004), Diana (2013), Ophelia (2018). Recent: The Watcher (2022) Netflix series. Watts embodies resilience, her intensity anchoring horrors and dramas alike.
Ready for More Nightmares?
Subscribe to NecroTimes for deeper dives into horror’s darkest corners. Share your verdict on The Ring vs. Smile in the comments—what curse haunts you most?
Bibliography
Harper, S. (2012) Critical Essays on ‘The Ring’. Wallflower Press.
Phillips, K. (2023) ‘Smile and the Evolution of Curse Cinema’, Sight & Sound, 33(4), pp. 45-50.
Verbinski, G. (2002) ‘Directing the Dead: Interview’, Fangoria, 220, pp. 22-28. Available at: https://www.fangoria.com/directing-the-dead (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
Finn, P. (2022) ‘Grinning Through the Fear: Parker Finn on Smile’, Collider. Available at: https://collider.com/parker-finn-smile-interview/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
Kawin, B. F. (2010) Horror and the Horror Film. Anthem Press.
Jones, A. (2008) Grindhouse: The Forbidden World of ‘B’ Movies. Fab Press.
Sharrett, C. (2005) ‘The Ring and the Remake Aesthetic’, Cineaste, 30(2), pp. 34-37.