Skinamarink, if you’ll allow it, will lull you into some kind of suspended animation trance-state, and Skinamarink will let loose absolute terror.
Horrible things covered in dust and soot at the back of my brain that have apparently been sitting there waiting for a good shake, a good tap on the shoulder-an army of faceless apparitions all waiting for the signal, the go sign, that Skinamarink, nightmare waker, represents. It brought all kinds of nightmares back to me. As if thinking about her will yank me back through time, revealing that my entire life up until this moment has been a dream and it’s always been and always will be me looking down that hallway, waiting for this horrible red thing to turn toward me, show me her face.ĭirector Kyle Ball’s utterly unnerving and absolutely singular feature-film debut Skinamarink, a waking nightmare that just premiered at the Fantasia Film Festival this week and in the process of so doing threw down the gauntlet to all horror movie makers henceforth, brought that red woman right back to me. Nothing else happened in this “nightmare” but even now, recalling it, everything inside of me still trembles a little, as if she’s the key that will undo me. For some reason, I knew it was a woman even though I couldn’t see a face per se, but that’s all I can remember-this faceless apparition the color of crimson suspended specter-like in the shadows, about a foot off the floor. When I was a little kid I had this recurring nightmare about a red woman floating at the end of the darkened hallway outside my bedroom.
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