“I Did It for the Lulz” — and Immediately Regretted It
If movies could be reported for cybercrimes, Smiley (2012) would be serving a life sentence without parole. Directed by Michael Gallagher — the YouTube auteur behind Totally Sketch — this digital-age slasher tries to mash up Scream, The Ring, and an AOL chatroom from 2002. What we get instead is 90 minutes of webcam buffering, TikTok-level acting, and a villain who looks like Leatherface discovered Hot Topic.
“Type ‘I did it for the lulz’ three times and Smiley will appear to kill your chat partner,” goes the premise. It’s a clever enough idea if you’re a sleep-deprived Redditor in 2008, but less so when stretched into a feature film that feels like an after-school special directed by an algorithm.
By the end, I wasn’t afraid of Smiley — I was afraid the film might spawn a sequel.
Meet Ashley: Queen of Poor Life Choices
Our protagonist is Ashley (Caitlin Gerard), a wide-eyed college freshman whose personality can best be described as “anxiety with Wi-Fi.” She’s new in town, she’s trying to make friends, and she’s clearly one bad decision away from starring in a Dateline episode.
Her roommate, Proxy (Melanie Papalia), is the kind of girl who listens to EDM and says things like “It’s just the Internet, chill.” Together, they decide to summon a mythical online serial killer — because that’s what you do in movies written by people who think Chatroulette is still relevant.
They type “I did it for the lulz” three times and, lo and behold, their random chat partner gets murdered live on-screen. Most people would log off, burn their laptops, and flee to a Wi-Fi-free commune in Montana. Ashley, however, reacts by developing a moral conscience, insomnia, and the acting range of a damp tortilla.
The Supporting Cast of Walking Error Messages
Every horror movie needs a good ensemble, but Smiley’s cast feels like it was assembled via Craigslist.
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Proxy, the snarky roommate, serves as both instigator and emotional support — though her emotional range fluctuates between “vaguely sarcastic” and “mildly hungover.”
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Zane, a self-proclaimed hacker and philosopher, is the human embodiment of a Reddit thread that starts with “Actually…”
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Binder (Shane Dawson), the love interest, plays a dweeb so bland you start rooting for his inevitable demise. Watching Dawson act is like watching a Vine that lasts an hour too long.
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Professor Clayton (Roger Bart), a smug ethics professor, exists solely to monologue about the nature of evil before being promptly forgotten.
Every interaction feels like it’s been copy-pasted from a 2010 Facebook chat. The dialogue tries to be deep — tackling the “morality of memes” and “the desensitization of Internet culture” — but mostly sounds like something an AI chatbot would write after binge-watching Black Mirror.
Smiley: The Killer Who Needs a Better Dermatologist
Let’s talk about the titular villain. Smiley, with his stitched-shut eyes and carved grin, is supposed to be a chilling embodiment of the Internet’s cruelty. In reality, he looks like a Halloween mask you’d find in a clearance bin labeled “Rejects from Spirit Halloween.”
His kills are neither scary nor inventive. People get stabbed, people scream, and everyone forgets about it two scenes later. The cinematography tries to hide the budgetary limitations with jump cuts and strobe lighting, but the effect is more “cheap music video” than “terrifying slasher.”
Smiley’s supposed to represent the anonymous menace of online culture — the faceless evil lurking behind every comment section. Unfortunately, he’s about as threatening as a YouTube dislike button.
Internet Horror for People Who Still Use Dial-Up
The biggest problem with Smiley isn’t its concept — it’s that the filmmakers clearly have no idea how the Internet actually works. The movie treats technology like black magic. Characters act like clicking the wrong link could summon Satan, and their understanding of chatrooms makes Hackers (1995) look like a documentary.
At one point, Ashley “summons” Smiley and watches someone die on camera — only for everyone around her to shrug it off like she just watched a cat video. Later, she tells the police about the killings, and they basically respond with: “Yeah, sounds like broadband issues.”
It’s a horror movie built on the premise that no one in 2012 had heard of Google or screen recording.
A Slasher Without Teeth (Or Logic)
The first act promises psychological horror — maybe something about paranoia, guilt, or the erosion of empathy in the digital age. Instead, we get jump scares so predictable they might as well come with calendar reminders.
Ashley’s mental breakdown is conveyed entirely through frantic webcam close-ups and dialogue like:
“He’s real, Proxy! He’s coming for me!”
It’s less The Shining and more The Shrieking.
By the time the plot twist rolls around — that Smiley is actually a prank orchestrated by a group of edgy college anarchists — the movie has already worn out its welcome. When they reveal they’re all members of “Anonymous,” it’s like watching your dad discover what 4chan is and then decide to write a screenplay about it.
And just when you think it’s over, the film pulls a final fake-out: the “real” Smiley shows up anyway. Is he a copycat? A demon? A metaphor for bad storytelling? The movie doesn’t know — and frankly, neither do we.
The Philosophy of “Lulz”
To give Smiley some credit, it tries to have a message. Gallagher clearly wants to comment on how anonymity breeds cruelty, how online pranks can spiral into real-world violence, how the Internet desensitizes us to suffering. These are rich themes — if you’re, say, David Fincher directing The Social Network of Doom.
But Smiley handles them with all the subtlety of a YouTube rant. Every moral point is delivered via clunky exposition or pseudo-intellectual debates that sound like they were transcribed from a freshman philosophy class.
At one point, Roger Bart’s professor says something about “the collective consciousness of evil.” Meanwhile, a guy in the background is literally typing “LOL.” It’s not satire; it’s a cry for help.
The Real Horror: The Editing
Every scene feels like it was cut by someone who’s only ever edited jump-scare compilations. The pacing lurches between tedium and hysteria — long stretches of Ashley staring at her laptop, followed by a random burst of stabbing.
The soundtrack, meanwhile, is a migraine-inducing mix of synthetic strings and ominous bass drops that sound like they were stolen from a royalty-free horror soundboard. Even the jump scares seem bored, arriving five seconds too late like an old modem struggling to connect.
Keith David: The Lone Bright Spot
Keith David shows up as Officer Diamond, the only character with a functioning brain. He delivers every line with the weary authority of a man who’s just realized he’s trapped in a terrible movie. You can almost hear his internal monologue: “I survived The Thing for this?”
Sadly, even his commanding presence can’t save Smiley from itself. The script gives him about three minutes of screen time and zero opportunity to do what he does best: chew scenery and deliver gravitas.
A Meme That Should’ve Stayed Dead
In the end, Smiley isn’t just a bad movie — it’s a cautionary tale about what happens when you try to make a horror film out of an Internet meme. It’s like someone read Creepypasta for Dummies and decided, “This deserves theatrical distribution.”
It’s not scary, not clever, and not even unintentionally funny enough to qualify as camp. It’s just… beige. The cinematic equivalent of typing “lol” out of politeness.
Even the tagline — “Evil wears a smile” — feels ironic, because I wasn’t smiling once.
Final Thoughts: “I Did It for the Lulz” — and Now I Need Therapy
If Smiley were a virus, your antivirus would immediately quarantine it. It’s that kind of movie: poorly written, glitchy, and endlessly trying to convince you it’s scarier than it is.
There’s a good idea buried somewhere beneath the stitched grin and digital static — but it’s drowned out by lazy writing, flat performances, and the fatal assumption that saying “the Internet is scary” counts as a plot.
Verdict: ★☆☆☆☆
If you type “I did it for the lulz” three times, Smiley appears. If you stream Smiley once, your brain dies a little.
