Movie Review: Smile 2
Written and Directed by Parker Finn
Reviewed by Reba Merrill and Tandy Culpepper
Following the runaway success of 2022’s Smile, which grossed over $217 million worldwide on a modest $17 million budget, writer-director Parker Finn returns with Smile 2. With a first-look deal at Paramount now in place, Finn continues his psychological horror universe with a stylish yet divisive sequel.
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Smile 2 stars Naomi Scott as Skylar, a glamorous pop sensation whose seemingly charmed life begins to unravel after a harrowing encounter with her ex-boyfriend, played by Ray Nicholson—yes, Jack Nicholson’s son.
Scott, 29, is nothing short of a revelation. Reportedly inspired by the stylings of Lady Gaga circa 2010, she brings vocal power, striking visuals, and undeniable charisma to the role. As Reba noted, she’s a true triple threat: she can act, sing, and dance. A soundtrack EP featuring her vocals was released alongside the film.Tandy especially admired the soundtrack, calling it one of the film’s strongest elements.
As for the story itself, both Reba and Tandy found Smile 2 less compelling—not due to any lack of craft, but because horror isn’t their preferred genre. That said, they were both intrigued by the film’s ambiguity. Is Skylar truly being haunted by a supernatural entity, or are we witnessing a descent into drug-induced psychosis? For Reba and Tandy, it was an interesting psychological puzzle, even if the horror elements didn’t fully land. Still, one takeaway was clear: Naomi Scott is going places.
Movie Review: The Summer of 69
Directed by Jillian Bell | Starring Sam Morelos, Chloe Fineman
When a film is titled The Summer of 69, one might reasonably assume it’s set during the iconic year of 1969—particularly if you’re old enough to remember the reflective 1972 coming-of-age drama Summer of ’42. That assumption, however, would be entirely off base in this case. Jillian Bell’s directorial debut The Summer of 69 is not a period piece, but a cheeky, contemporary comedy about teenage confusion, sexual naïveté, and unexpected friendship.
Sam Morelos stars as Abby, a high school senior who’s made it all the way to graduation without learning much—if anything—about sex. Abby develops a crush on a classmate named Max (Matt Cornett) and overhears that his favorite “sex act” is 69. Not knowing what that means but desperate to impress, she takes an unconventional and hilariously misguided route: she visits a local strip club called Diamond Dolls and hires a stripper named Santa Monica (played by Saturday Night Live standout Chloe Fineman) to give her a crash course in sexuality.
The premise is played for laughs, but also reveals surprising layers of tenderness. What begins as a transactional arrangement evolves into a sincere friendship between Abby and Santa Monica, as the latter teaches Abby not only how to walk in stiletto heels, but also how to navigate confidence, self-expression, and womanhood. A standout moment involves Abby’s first wobbling steps in those stilettos—eliciting hearty laughs from Reba Merrill, who recalled her own stiletto misadventures and came to sympathize with Abby’s awkward innocence.
Initially skeptical, Reba eventually warmed to the film, as did Tandy Culpepper, who related deeply to the feeling of being a teenager convinced that everyone else had all the answers—especially when it came to sex. But The Summer of 69 has one final twist up its sleeve: the number in question wasn’t about sex at all. It turns out Max is a virgin too, and “69” actually refers to his favorite video game. It’s a classic case of assumption gone awry, played with charm and gentle satire.
While the film toys with provocative themes, its heart is in the right place. It’s not about titillation—it’s about the vulnerability of growing up, the search for guidance, and the surprising places where mentorship and friendship can be found. Jillian Bell’s first effort behind the camera is clever, warm, and refreshingly female-driven. With standout performances by Sam Morelos and Chloe Fineman, The Summer of 69 is an honest, funny, and unexpectedly sweet look at adolescence, identity, and the often absurd path to adulthood.
