“What Jaws did to swimming in the ocean, Skinamarink did to midnight potty trips”

-user CinePhil, via Letterboxd

Skinamarink is an excellent example of the new age of horror we are slowly entering; it is sickening. As a horror film fanatic, I am always eager to hear about new scary movies that are not your average cliché or another reproduction of the same ancient franchise over and over again- not looking at you, Scream, you are flawless in every way- but I have no idea where to even begin with Skinamarink. 

First, I’ll tell you the only thing I knew heading into this, so we are on the same page: Skinamarink is a found footage-esque experimental horror film following two children who are home alone in the middle of the night. All of the house’s windows and doors have vanished along with the two kids’ parents. Sounds a bit spooky, right? 

Unlike most other films I see, I didn’t watch the trailer beforehand because I thought it would be another predictable scary film. However, with this film’s peculiar style, it isn’t you watching these scared children tough it out, no.

You become the scared child.

To start, the silence is absolutely deafening. Combined with the askew grainy camera shots, these filmmakers create a tense atmosphere from the very first second. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to be afraid of yet, and there’s already an unsettling feeling in your stomach while the old-fashioned opening credits are still rolling.

Skinamarink delves into a resounding, inherent childhood fear the horror industry has somehow left untouched thus far. It takes you back to when you were afraid to stick your leg out from under your covers because you knew a creature would see it and get you. Expertly, it taps into this grossly overlooked dread we all experienced as children and brings you right back into it, front and center.

Careful, quiet footsteps and short perspective shots perfectly capture a child’s frozen noiseless terror and transport you directly there: watching supernatural feats in complete stillness along with the children. Compared to the tiresome and stereotypical blood-curdling screams audiences have become used to, the juxtaposition of a child’s immobile and speechless shock is breathtaking. 

In the film, an overwhelming majority of shots linger for uncomfortable periods at peculiar angles, forcing you to strain your eyes and see things that aren’t there. This technique is another aspect of this distinct style that will send your heart racing. That anxious feeling of waiting, just knowing inside that something horrifying could happen at any second. The director creates tension proficiently.

There were many times I had to pause the movie and take a couple deep breaths. My eyes were tearing up, and my chest was pounding so hard it began to hurt. I was determined to write this review, and I had already come so far, so I persisted. As it went on, a couple scenes stressed me out so much that I had to watch it in increments, pausing frequently to hide behind my laptop screen and write this. Somehow, it kept getting worse and worse; the entire time I was begging for something to happen. The exorbitant amount of tension was too much for me to take and I wanted to rip the band-aid off and get it over with.

The perspective in Skinamarink reduces you to a child. Its horror is almost liminal in nature, and it’s certainly not for the faint of heart.