[Film Review] Skinamarink (2022)

For those (and I count myself in this group) who were transfixed by Mark Z. Danielewski’s debut novel House of Leaves and inventive look into the bowels of a haunted home, Kyle Edward Ball’s debut film Skinamarink may be up your alley. It may be. Just as Danielewski’s novel was a test on concentration, this film—100 minutes of ambient horror—is a test of patience. And depending on what you hoped to get out of it it may be worth it. 

Four-year-old Kevin (Lucas Paul) falls down the stairs during a bout of sleepwalking only to wake up, alongside his sister Kaylee (Dani Rose Tetreault), to an empty house in the middle of the night where the furniture, toys, and even structure of the house rearrange, change shape, or disappear entirely, all while a malevolent voice stalks Kevin through the night. Now, I’m not going to pretend this wasn’t a creepy and at times, downright scary movie to watch. Ball uses every manner of nightmare fuel imaginable and gets away with more than one jump scare cheap shot for good measure. There’s an undeniable nostalgia to the moments you spent late at night staring at your ceiling and listening to the odd noises of the house or imagining faces through the fuzzy darkness. That being said, at its surprising runtime, some may find it drags, bouncing between one too many still shots of old cartoons or toys on a living room carpet punctuated by a loud noise.

But back to that House of Leaves comparison, which feels impossible not to refer to . Like Danielewski’s novel, this story takes the contents and structure of a home—things meant to be static, foundational pieces of our reality—and makes them unsettlingly fluid and unreliable. The more the house becomes unfamiliar, the more bold the monsters within it become. It’s an effective metaphor for the traumas that hide in the childhood home and the loss of innocence that comes with facing them for what they are. But where Skinamarink may go  wrong  is in suggesting that these childhood fears exist in a vacuum. 

Precious few of those 100 minutes are spent establishing the context Kevin and Kaylee experience these horrors within. It seems to be purposeful, a sort of “insert your childhood trauma here” where the unending night of terror Kevin and Kaylee endure can be a stand-in for any number of things. But there’s a thin line between universal metaphors and a scenario too vague for an audience to sink their teeth into and Skinamarink teeters closer to the latter. We get the feeling Kevin might have some sort of mental health history, that his parents perhaps have a strained relationship, that perhaps they work a lot and aren’t often home—especially in the dead of night. But the text doesn’t support, or refute, anyone reading of the situation. Equally valid is the assertion that Kevin’s parents are divorced though later it’s implied his mother is dead. The context of the story is a murky soup of potential wrinkles in a would-be happy home. Then again, there is merit in that too. As a huge David Lynch fan I can’t fault unapologetic impressionism. Especially a piece that so earnestly sticks to its own stylistic thesis and still manages to be effective in getting an emotional reaction from the audience. 

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I’m ultimately of two minds on this movie which makes it worth a watch for horror buffs unafraid of intellectualizing their viewing experience. It also would bode well for the crowd who stalks the No Sleep subreddit. But it’s also fair to acknowledge that experience isn’t for everyone and there are less trying and tedious haunted house films out there that have a point to make themselves about childhood nightmares. 

With that in mind, I’ll give it 3 out of 5 stars and invite you to watch the film and develop your own takeaway.

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