Skinamarink

Director: Kyle Edward Ball
Starring: Lucas Paul, Dali Rose Tetreault, Ross Paul, Jaime Hill
Running Time: 100 min.
Rating: NR 

★★ (out of ★★★★)

An experimental endurance test, writer/director Kyle Edward Ball's polarizing Skinamarink attempts to transport viewers back to that time in our childhoods when nothing felt scarier than a dark empty house in the middle of the night. It's a conceit that Ball captures exceptionally well in doses, recognizing how any strange noise or shadow can become a nightmarish threat. Its cast of four are sparsely seen or heard as barely distinguishable hallways, light fixtures, rooms and ceilings convey an atmospheric sense of impending doom. But while there's a method to the madness, it's an undeniable slog, rewarding only those completely willing to let go and settle in for a lengthy, frustrating journey.

Clocking in at a surprisingly grueling 100 minutes, early hints suggest this might be a found footage exercise in the vein of The Blair Witch Project or Paranormal Activity. That is until Canadian filmmaker Ball uses his debut feature to really push the envelope past more traditional genre conventions. There's value in how it evokes all the intended sensations, even if you're left feeling congratulations are in order for reaching the end, having survived a monotony sure to test the patience of even the most dedicated cinephiles.

It's 1995 when four-year-old Kevin (Lucas Paul) injures himself during what his slightly older sister Kaylee (Dali Rose Tetreault) refers to as another sleepwalking episode. After Kevin's taken to the hospital and brought back home, he and his sister awake in the middle of the night to discover their father (Ross Paul) and mother (Jaime Hill) are gone, as windows, doors and other objects within the house begin to vanish. 

After relocating to the living room to watch cartoons, the children fall asleep before being awakened again by loud, strange noises. What they find wandering in the dark is terrifying and inexplicable, with all signs pointing to the presence of an increasingly malicious, otherworldly force. The line separating imagination and reality fades in the face of a horror slowly enveloping these siblings and the foreboding sense that the worst is yet to come.

This takes place in the '90s, but it's hardly relevant since events are set in sort of a timeless vacuum that can't be tied to a particular period, with the cavernous house acting as its own main character. Having edited this himself, Ball forces us to see and experience everything as the two children do. shooting in a grainy, VHS style that skillfully utilizes lighting, cinematography and sound design to enhance an already creepy atmosphere. And this commitment to realistically replicating the same sense of isolation and confinement plaguing these kids sometimes makes it impossible to tell what's going on, which was likely the point.

Sparse, static scenes linger longer than most can reasonably tolerate, so while it succeeds in creating an immersive environment, there are enormous stretches where nothing happens, or at least doesn't appear to. Ball's intentions are straightforward, but is it ever a tough watch, clearly descending from that early lockdown era when low-budget, single location thrillers were all the rage. To an extent they still are, though none have gone this far in stripping down its thematic implications, and probably for good reason. 

The film's title is lifted from the classic children's song, which isn't directly referenced, played or sung at any stage during the proceedings. And there isn't much dialogue at all, beyond the kids conversing and background noise from the TV and house. While the pacing never picks up, the strange occurrences do in a final act that gives us a clearer idea of what's been happening for a 572 day span you'd swear unfolded in real time. Memorable imagery, like the talking Fisher Price telephone and a mysterious Lynchian figure provide hints as to who or what could be behind this.

If Skinamarink were tighter, there's a decent chance it could have been more digestible, though possibly at the expense of Ball's creative vision. So without that middle ground, we're left with something that can only be watched alone in the dark at 3 am, provided you can make it. Ambitiously daring, this almost taunts viewers into revisiting the film with a different mindset to confirm their initial reaction. Of course the problem is having to sit through it again, possibly ensuring that the debate this provokes will outlast whatever does or doesn't appear on screen.