‘Skinamarink’ turns childhood fears into analog horror

Graphic by Gabby Ganon ‘24.

Woodlief McCabe ’23

Staff Writer

Horror movie enthusiasts seem to be polarized by Kyle Edward Ball’s new film, “Skinamarink,” released in theaters on Jan. 13, 2023. For some, it’s the most afraid they have been in a theater since “Poltergeist” in 1982. For others, it’s laughable to even be scared. With curiosity, I visited Amherst Cinema for a nighttime showing. 

“Skinamarink” starts extremely slowly. A long portion is spent on completely nondescript angles of a home, especially the edges and corners of walls and furniture. It appears familiar — it could be anyone’s house, even yours — and yet it’s completely disconnected from how we navigate our living spaces. Through the perspective of the two young children in the home, Kevin and Kaylee, the doors, windows and toilet go missing, one after another, trapping the family. 

For a while, this is the extent of the “horror.” It is simply unsettling, as we wait to know more, powerless to reach out and pan the camera just a few feet. The film dwells in this space of discomfort and anticipation. I was beginning to think that I would be one of those unaffected viewers, that I had conditioned myself too well against the tricks of the genre. Sure, chairs on the ceiling and dolls stuck to the walls are spooky, but no sweat. I was proud of myself, but a little disappointed. 

And then something switched. The suspense reaches greater intensity, and the slowness starts to pay off. This moment for me came during an eerie scene about forty minutes into the film, when Kaylee goes to her parents’ bedroom and finds them sitting on opposite sides of the bed, facing away from her. This is the most interaction we have with the parents. Kaylee hears a voice speaking to her from the darkness and soon, Kevin finds himself completely alone. There is something tangible to be afraid of now. Though it barely speaks, the entity’s power is palpable. Once it appears, the film’s tone is much more sinister.

“Skinamarink” is an analog horror. Borrowing from the “found footage” style of horror popularized by “The Blair Witch Project”, analog is an experimental genre. Its themes and motives are cryptic and unsettling, and it opts for low-quality images and sound. In “Skinamarink,” childhood nostalgia, especially of the ‘90s and early ‘00s, is contorted into potential conduits for torment. 

The camera returns to shots of the television playing 1930s cartoons, playing scenes with eerie similarities to the children’s predicament. The entity that is controlling the home manipulates these images too. A disappearing rabbit plays on a loop over and over again. The repeated image and its corresponding music become overwhelming, almost nauseating. The symbolism can be fairly heavy-handed at times, which is perhaps why the television is a site for conveying information rather than fear. It is a reminder that there is something or someone else in control. The looping television screen is just one way that the film manipulates time. We realize that the children have been trapped in the home for weeks, even months. The horror in the helplessness builds up the anxiety, even when things on screen are tame out of context. 

Though the dialogue is sparse, we hear a mix of eerie unidentifiable noises, sounds of crying and objects breaking in another room. Much like the visual elements that exist just offscreen, the sound is begging its viewers to strain our ears so it can give us another atonal shriek, hum or cut to total silence. 

“Skinamarink” constructs horror from what is not seen. It terrifies by hinting at the unknown rather than explicitly showing, like household items in the corner of the screen, and faces turned away from the camera. That being said, it takes a long time to pay off. Suspenseful as it is, “Skinamarink” is a test of patience. I could not fault a viewer for frustration, annoyance and even boredom, at least for the first half hour. 

If you are hoping for a monster movie or a killer lurking in the shadows, this isn’t that. It is not full of jumpscares or extensive gore, though, for those who might be sensitive to those things, there is implied violence and scenes containing blood splattering. “Skinamarink” plays on the primal fears and anxieties of childhood, especially of the dark and being left alone. The dim light and grainy quality of the image play tricks on us, akin to how when we were children, the shadows of chairs and coats in our dark bedrooms stretched to appear like human figures. 

The film withholds information. The camera avoids the action, keeping it out of frame. It limits dialogue and chooses not to explain anything. It feels like being a child and knowing something is wrong, but as much as you ask, the adults in your life just won’t tell you. Or worse, they ignore the question. Kevin asks, “where did it go?” about the doors. He never gets an answer. 

There are only one or two genuine jumpscares, and I think that’s to the film’s benefit. It requires us to constantly think of what might happen. With an antagonist with no defined physical form and potentially limitless abilities, there is no formula to the fear. I expect that detractors heard it was scary and expected wall-to-wall violence and grotesquery. Niche sub-genre films often experience greater scrutiny, and “Skinamarink” is no exception. 

This film proves that fear can be brought about by tapping into the simplest elements of emotion. We develop a sense of fear in childhood to keep ourselves safe, but what about when we are afraid of something we cannot even name? 

I don’t think making every second of the film nail-bitingly terrifying is necessary. Otherwise, we become desensitized, requiring outlandish methods to elicit a reaction. When “Skinamarink”lets us pause, or even expect nothing to happen, the filmmakers have the upper hand.

‘The Batman’ is a promising new take on a classic character

Rowan Bernstein ’22

Staff Writer

Graphic by Sunny Wei ‘23

If you, like me, have grown tired of watching the same kind of superhero movies in recent years, Warner Bros.’ most recent DC film, “The Batman,” might be the breath of fresh air you need. “The Batman” takes a different direction from previous DC and Batman films, functioning primarily as a noir-style mystery that showcases the caped crusader’s detective skills alongside his physical prowess.

Though it is a reboot of sorts, “The Batman” is not an origin story. Instead, director Matt Reeves relies on audiences already being familiar with the character of Bruce Wayne and his alter ego, Batman, thanks to numerous retellings on film and television throughout the years. Though Bruce’s iconic backstory ⁠— witnessing the murder of his wealthy parents at a very young age ⁠— is often referenced and plays a role in the film’s story, it is not fully rehashed. This decision pays off. In its three hour runtime, the film rarely drags, in part thanks to the omission of this already familiar information. We are introduced to a version of Bruce Wayne (Robert Pattinson) already in his second year as a masked vigilante, investigating a serial killer known as the Riddler (Paul Dano). Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne, too, is still learning what it means to be his city’s protector. 

This interpretation of Bruce Wayne is considerably different from the playboy type seen in films like the earlier “The Dark Knight” trilogy. Rather than putting on a sociable public facing persona and brooding in private, this version of the character struggles to hide his angst, only making public appearances in his fictional home of Gotham City when absolutely necessary, such as a funeral for the mayor. As Batman, he is skilled in combat as well as deduction, directly assisting the police in investigating crime scenes. Robert Pattinson is a perfect fit for the role, nailing Bruce Wayne’s frenzied drive to solve the case at hand and stop the Riddler, even at the expense of his own health. 

Batman may be a skilled detective, but Dano’s Riddler is always two steps ahead of him. As he systematically takes out corrupt police officers and politicians, he leaves greeting cards addressed to Batman, filled with clues to deeper mystery surrounding his victims, which Batman must solve before he can get to the Riddler. A far cry from earlier, more cartoonish portrayals, like Jim Carrey in “Batman Forever,” this version of the character draws inspiration from the Zodiac Killer and his use of ciphers to communicate with the police. As he lurks in the shadows and stalks his prey, The Riddler makes for a terrifying and formidable foe.

Selina Kyle, aka Catwoman (Zoë Kravitz), is another key player in the film. Bruce first encounters her while following a clue from the Riddler, investigating a young woman who works at a nightclub where Selina is also employed. This young woman turns out to be Selina’s roommate and partner, who soon goes missing. Thanks to her job in the club ⁠— and her skills as a burglar ⁠— Catwoman is able to assist Batman in his investigation, as well as seek out her own revenge. While there is a spark of attraction between her and Bruce, Selina’s personal motivations and role in the story are well fleshed out and always take precedence over romance.

Each of these characters, along with supporting figures like police commissioner James Gordon (Jeffrey Wright), has a believable and vital connection to the plot, and every individual piece weaves together to tell a complex and engaging story supplemented by exciting action sequences. 

For instance, there’s a mid-movie car chase that showcases the Batmobile’s high tech capabilities and an exciting sequence illuminated by strobing nightclub lights. The fight choreography throughout the film is impressive and exciting to watch, with up close and brutal combat visually reminiscent of video game fights. 

“The Batman” also has the one thing I find most important in a superhero film: a clear love for the comics and interest in the characters as people. You don’t need to be a comic fan to enjoy the movie — I haven’t read many Batman comics myself yet — but it’s obvious that Reeves wanted to tell a story that could have come straight off of the page. This shows in the film’s sense of sincerity. Rather than wink and nod about the silliness of costumed vigilantes, the film treats its characters and their stories as worth taking seriously. There is plenty of comedy, but it never overshadows the story’s earnestness, and that is why it works.