Mackenzie Sutfin

Skinamarink is a deeply haunting, memory clenching, sensory movie experience that both deprives and overwhelms. As "experimental" as it might be, it did the one thing it set out to do, which is provoke. I would call this movie a slow-burn, but burn is not the right word. This movie suffocates, and does so, agonizingly, at a snail's pace. Between the heavily-grained film that you can barely see past, the long shots of seemingly mundane images, and the muffled and almost indiscernible voices that constantly border on whispers, this movie is not for people who cannot or do not want to immerse themselves in a House of Leaves-esque reality bender that both under- and over-stimulates. This movie plays on some of the deepest memories of a complicated and/or traumatic childhood. Seeing the world at such a small scale, fractions of a whole picture. Feeling the undulating, viscous darkness in the corners of each room. Being left alone, forced to watch the walls, the floor, the static manifesting in your eyes when there's just too little light to see. Staring endlessly into a solid void. The eyes of a child see many more horrors than the eyes of an adult, who can rationalize, react, and regroup. Skinamarink does what I almost wish it didn't do, which is show the most unnerving parts of life through a lens of simplicity and repetition, often how children have to experience the darkest parts of their lives. Being held captive in moments of otherwise banality, there is something gripping about not being able to be freed from it. You may have come in willingly, but this movie traps you. Needless to say, some parts of the movie are to be desired. I did not particularly enjoy the execution of Kaylee's facial deformity, among some of the other flashier scenes. Some of it felt like a departure from what the whole of the movie felt like, and breached my immersion for a quick grasp at what one would expect from a horror film. A dash of crowd-pleasing, if you will. Whether you compare it to Blair Witch or not, there is at least one commonality I see in a lot of the reviews. Some may think the "aesthetic" is being way too forced, but what some fail to realize is that, to some, this is more than a self-gratifying aesthetic. This is a wire-tap into the fuzzy, nebulous, and often visually exaggerated memories of a child. In short (and in my opinion) this movie was a tangible feeling, and that feeling is not exactly horror, not terror, not even simple fear. This movie is the pure feeling of quiet unease, the threat of your safety being ripped from you, the agony of waiting for an answer, and an almost unnerving calm knowing that there is no foreseeable end to a diluted torture. Will watch again, but only when I want to dissociate for the next 24 hours.