Skinamarink

This is scary shit. Like the scariest movie I’ve ever seen scary. For people with chronic nightmares from childhood. Instead of comparing Skinamarink to any existing project or putting it squarely under the banner of avant-garde, it should be described by the fear that drives it. A notable portion of the population feels uncomfortable to the level of severe panic upon the site of uneven holes or bumps. Trypophobia might seem ridiculously trivial to those who aren’t afflicted, but some people think it could be due to a genetically triggered evolutionary aversion to the designs of certain poisonous plants. That might not be why, it doesn’t change the fact it’s a serious fear with a chokehold on slim minority. This movie feels almost like it triggers whatever the fear of this is, and an 100 minute romp through the fears visualized here is going to be excruciatingly boring for a whole lot of people. If I were to sit in a theater of patrons with moderate trypophobia watching 100 minutes of lotus seed heads straight out of the backrooms, I’d seriously wonder what the hell was going on. Am I being punked? It would be a massive waste of a ticket. Whatever’s going on here isn’t as uncommon as the phobia of small holes, but I used an easily misread phenomena as an example. Whatever this is, it’s a childhood fear that stands in your shadow and clings to you as you age. It lurks. It doesn’t leave. Skinamarink is a reminder that it’s still there, waiting in your nightmares to greet you as you wade into the dark and dingy corners of your dreams.