Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Kyle Edward Ball
Starring: Lucas Paul, Dali Rose, Ross Paul, Jaime Hill
The most philistine response you can have to a piece of art is to
declare "My kid could paint that!" But let's be honest, haven't we all
at some point found ourselves gazing at some Jackson Pollock-esque mess
and though that maybe if we left little Johnny in a room with five
buckets of paint he might produce something of equal value?
Writer/director Kyle Edward Ball's feature debut
Skinamarink is the sort of experimental arthouse film that
will provoke such responses, particularly given its (mis-?)marketing to
fans of the horror genre as a modern day
Blair Witch Project. With lighting so dim you're forced to squint throughout and camera
angles that suggest the cinematographer was on acid, it does indeed look
like something your kid might film if you let them potter about the
house with a camera late at night. In this case though, I think the fact
that this piece of art looks like something your kid could paint might
be a feature, not a flaw.
Ball was previously known for running a YouTube channel in which he
invited commenters to recount their creepiest dreams, which he would
then visually recreate. Ball found that many commented with a variation
of the same dream, in which they had regressed to childhood and were
trapped in their home with some sort of malevolent presence. Initially
Ball turned this idea into a short titled Heck, and has now expanded it to feature length.
You may have to squint to see it, but there is a story here.
Skinamarink is the tale of two young children –
four-year-old Kevin (Lucas Paul) and his six-year-old sister
Kaylee (Dali Rose Tetreault) – who find themselves alone in their
home when their parents (Ross Paul and Jaime Hill)
seemingly vanish, along with all the doors and windows (and even the
toilet), leaving Kevin and Kaylee trapped with some sort of possibly
evil spirit that occasionally beckons from the darkness.
And boy is there a lot of darkness here (viewers watching at home may
well be tempted to watch the movie in cheat mode by dialling up their
TV's brightness and contrast levels). Shunning any conventional
storytelling forms, Ball's film consists of a combination of shots that
represent the children's POV and others that seem to stare randomly into
various corners, panning without capturing or following any specific
images. The POV shots give the film the look of a found-footage movie,
and it's in these moments that the movie most resembles a traditional
piece of horror filmmaking. When Kevin is told to look under a bed, we
brace ourselves not just for what he might see, but what we might see,
as the film plays on one of our most primal childhood fears, the
boogeyman under our bed.
When the film shuns the kids' POV it strays from horror into the world
of art installation. At times it feels as though the film has been
directed by a household pet, with the camera staring into darkness in
the manner of your dog or cat. We can't see anything, so what is it
that's holding their attention?
Signs that something supernatural is afoot come in the shape of chairs
stuck to the ceiling and cartoons looping themselves on TV. There's the
occasional jump scare, but they're not so much cleverly set up as just
loud noises thrown in at random points. For all its experimental
pretentions, Skinamrink isn't above old-fashioned genre
clichés.
Like that "What colour is the dress?" meme that went around social
media a few years ago, Skinamarink has polarised viewers.
Some have found it terrifying, while others have just shrugged and
squinted. I have to confess I'm in the latter camp, but I'm willing to
admit that may be a "me" issue rather than any fault of the film. If I
had a kid, I doubt they could make Skinamarink, as while it never quite worked for me I always felt like Ball was
fully in control. My main issue with Skinamarink however
is that for a movie with so little dialogue, it too often relies on its
child characters telling us they're scared rather than Ball showing us
why they're scared.
Skinamarink has become something of a cult sensation, and
any curious fan of horror/arthouse cinema will want to try peering into
its darkness. What you see in its shadows may depend on what you bring
to it yourself. Let me know what colour you think this dress is.
