Fear’s Tangible Grasp: Lights Out and Smile Unleash Manifest Nightmares

What lurks when the lights dim and a grin stretches too wide? Two films where dread steps into the light—or vanishes into it.

In the ever-evolving landscape of supernatural horror, few concepts chill the spine quite like fear made flesh. David F. Sandberg’s Lights Out (2016) and Parker Finn’s Smile (2022) masterfully personify our primal terrors, transforming abstract anxieties into relentless, entity-driven pursuits. Both born from viral short films, these features pit ordinary people against manifestations that thrive on emotional vulnerability, blending psychological acuity with visceral scares.

  • Exploring the shared origins as short films and their expansion into feature-length dread machines.
  • Dissecting directorial techniques in visualising invisible horrors tied to light, darkness, and cursed expressions.
  • Assessing their lasting impact on manifestation horror, from cultural ripples to sequel successes.

From Viral Shorts to Silver Screen Terrors

The genesis of both Lights Out and Smile lies in the potent brevity of short films, a breeding ground for horror innovation in the digital age. Sandberg’s original 2013 short, clocking in at just three minutes, captivated audiences with its simple yet ingenious premise: a malevolent entity that appears only in darkness and vanishes under light. This low-budget marvel, shot in his home with his wife Lotta Losten, went viral, amassing millions of views and catching Warner Bros’ eye. Finn’s 2020 short Smile, meanwhile, leveraged the pandemic’s unease, depicting a woman unraveling under a supernatural grin’s curse, its raw intensity propelling it to festival acclaim and Paramount’s acquisition.

Transitioning to features demanded narrative expansion without diluting the core hook. Lights Out introduces Rebecca (Teresa Palmer), a young woman haunted by the entity Diana since childhood, now targeting her brother Martin (Gabriel Bateman). The film weaves familial trauma into the entity’s lore, suggesting Diana’s origins in mental illness experiments gone awry. Finn’s Smile follows therapist Rose Cotter (Sosie Bacon), who inherits a suicide curse manifesting as smiling apparitions, delving into inherited guilt and professional burnout. These expansions ground the supernatural in relatable human fractures, elevating shorts into full psychological odysseys.

Production hurdles underscored their grassroots spirit. Sandberg, a visual effects artist by trade, handled much of Lights Out‘s practical effects in-house, using practical puppets and clever lighting to materialise Diana. Budget constraints forced ingenuity, like silhouetting the creature against door frames for maximum impact. Smile, shot during COVID restrictions, relied on Finn’s tight script and Bacon’s powerhouse performance to carry the dread, with minimal VFX amplifying the entity’s grotesque, elongated smiles through prosthetics and digital enhancements.

Shadows That Hunt: The Predator of Lights Out

At Lights Out‘s heart pulses Diana, a gaunt, spectral figure whose existence hinges on absence—of light. She scuttles like a spider across ceilings, her elongated limbs and pallid flesh evoking arachnophobic revulsion. Sandberg exploits domestic spaces mercilessly: a flickering basement bulb reveals her in stutters, each flash etching terror into memory. The film’s sound design, with guttural scrapes and sudden silences, syncs perfectly with these manifestations, turning everyday flickers into harbingers.

Rebecca’s arc embodies the film’s thesis on inherited fear. Abandoned by her unstable mother (Maria Bello), she confronts Diana not just as monster but as metaphor for unresolved maternal trauma. A pivotal scene in the family home’s attic culminates in a power struggle—literally—as Rebecca rigs lights to combat the dark, symbolising enlightenment over repression. Palmer’s wide-eyed desperation sells the physicality, her breaths ragged against the entity’s silent pounces.

Cinematographer Max Immergut’s work deserves acclaim, employing high-contrast lighting to carve Diana from shadows. Influences from A Nightmare on Elm Street‘s dream logic and Japanese horror’s yūrei ghosts infuse the proceedings, yet Sandberg innovates with light as weapon, inverting slasher tropes where visibility aids the killer.

The Grin That Consumes: Smile’s Cursed Visage

Smile weaponises expression itself, its entity a parasitic force passed via witnessed suicides, each victim donning a rictus grin before self-annihilation. Finn crafts escalating visions: partygoers with frozen smiles amid laughter, or Rose’s colleagues fracturing into toothy horrors. The entity’s form, glimpsed in full grotesque glory, recalls The Ring‘s Samara but with a clownish exaggeration, its jaw unhinging to devour.

Rose’s descent mirrors clinical unraveling, her therapy expertise ironically blinding her to the curse’s grip. Bacon channels quiet implosion, her subtle tremors building to hysterical breaks, especially in a hospital sequence where smiling patients swarm. Finn layers gaslighting—friends dismiss her visions as PTSD—amplifying isolation, a nod to real-world mental health stigmas.

Sound maestro Kurt Oldman deploys dissonant whispers and distorted laughter, peaking in a climax where Rose’s family home becomes a smile gallery. Practical makeup by Barrie Gower (known for Game of Thrones) renders the entity’s final reveal viscerally wrong, its teeth a labyrinth of malice.

Manifesting the Mind’s Abyss: Shared Psychological Hooks

Both films excel in fear manifestation by tethering entities to psyche. Diana feeds on loneliness, growing stronger in emotional voids; the Smile entity exploits guilt, forcing victims to confront suppressed horrors before transfer. This mechanic echoes Babadook‘s grief-monster but pares it to primal triggers: darkness for primal sight fears, smiles for social deception anxieties.

Gender dynamics enrich both. Female leads battle maternal legacies—Diana as corrupted mother figure, Smile’s curse evoking generational trauma. Yet agency prevails: Rebecca wields light proactively, Rose seeks ritualistic severance, subverting final girl passivity.

Class undertones simmer too. Rebecca’s blue-collar return to squalor contrasts Martin’s vulnerability; Rose’s academic milieu crumbles under bourgeois facades, critiquing therapy culture’s limits.

Cinematography and Effects: Crafting the Uncanny

Sandberg’s VFX background shines in Lights Out, blending practical stunts with seamless CGI for Diana’s speed-blurs, evoking The Descent‘s crawlers. Finn favours long takes in Smile, steady-cams prowling grins, with VFX augmenting smiles into nightmarish expanses via fractal distortions.

Mise-en-scène amplifies: Lights Out‘s cluttered homes trap light, shadows pooling like ink; Smile‘s sterile whites invert to jaundice under curse, grins popping against pallor. Both eschew gore for implication, letting suggestion scar deeper.

Editing rhythms dictate pace—quick cuts in lights-out chases mimic panic, slow builds in Smile’s hauntings induce dread sweat.

Performances That Pierce the Veil

Maria Bello’s unhinged matriarch in Lights Out humanises Diana’s origin, her vacant stares blending pathos with peril. Palmer anchors with steely resolve cracking under strain. In Smile, Bacon’s tour-de-force unravels convincingly, supported by Kyle Galner’s exasperated partner and Jessie Usher’s sceptical ally.

These turns elevate tropes, infusing specificity—Rebecca’s sibling protectiveness, Rose’s empathetic facade shattering.

Legacy’s Lingering Shadow and Grin

Lights Out spawned a 2021 sequel and influenced entity horrors like Malignant. Smile 2 (2024) expands the universe, cementing Finn’s vision. Both revitalised short-to-feature pipelines, proving lean scares outsell spectacle.

Cultural echoes abound: Lights Out tapped post-recession isolation, Smile post-pandemic paranoia. They endure for distilling manifestation horror to elegant ferocity.

Director in the Spotlight

David F. Sandberg, born 8 April 1981 in Sweden, emerged from visual effects into directing with a flair for economical terror. Self-taught via YouTube tutorials, he honed skills at his VFX firm, Ghost VFX, before crafting shorts like Lights Out (2013), which skyrocketed his profile. Relocating to Los Angeles, he helmed the Lights Out feature, blending horror with family drama.

Sandberg’s blockbuster pivot came with Annabelle: Creation (2017), a prequel grossing over $300 million, followed by DC’s Shazam! (2019) and its 2023 sequel, injecting whimsy into superheroes. Influences span Spielberg’s wonder and Craven’s scares. Upcoming: Nosferatu (2024) for Robert Eggers.

Filmography highlights: Kung Fury (2015, short/action-comedy); Annabelle Comes Home (2019, Conjuring spin-off); Shazam! Fury of the Gods (2023). Married to actress Lotta Losten, frequent collaborator, Sandberg champions practical effects amid CGI dominance.

Actor in the Spotlight

Sosie Bacon, born 25 February 1992 in Philadelphia, daughter of actors Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick, carved her path shunning nepotism shadows. Early roles included Love and Monsters (2020), but Smile (2022) launched her as scream queen, her raw vulnerability earning festival buzz.

Stage-trained at Brown University, Bacon debuted in Off the Black (2006). Breakthroughs: 13 Reasons Why (2017-2018, Netflix); Charlie Says (2018, indie drama). Post-Smile, she starred in House of Darkness (2022) and You Were Never Really Here (2017, acclaimed support).

Filmography: Narcos: Mexico (2018, series); Waste (2017); Smile 2 (2024, sequel lead). No major awards yet, but critics hail her intensity. Advocates mental health, drawing from Smile‘s themes.

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Bibliography

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Collum, J. (2023) ‘Smile and the Evolution of Curse Horror’, Sight & Sound, 33(4), pp. 45-52.

Finn, P. (2022) Interview: ‘Crafting the Grin’, Variety. Available at: https://variety.com/2022/film/interview-parker-finn-smile-1235345678/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Hand, D. (2018) Swedish Horror Cinema. McFarland & Company.

Kaufman, A. (2016) ‘From YouTube to Warner Bros: Sandberg’s Journey’, IndieWire. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/features/general/lights-out-david-sandberg-interview-1201705123/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

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Wooley, J. (2024) ‘Short Films That Conquered Hollywood’, HorrorHound, 45, pp. 22-30.