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I respect this movie for doing something I haven’t really seen before. An aspect of watching film, and really consuming any art form, is that someone must consume it. If Mona Lisa sits in a cave, never seen by any admirer, it ceases to remain art. It is merely wasted potential. Kyle Edward Ball understands this, and turns the camera over to you and I, the viewers. This is a film that requires collaboration to work. You cannot be distracted, or watch this with the sun shining through the window. It simply won’t work. Skinamarink is a nonsensical, subconscious affair. The visuals (including the very few barebones jump scares) do not really attribute much. Instead, it is the human brain, scrambling to connect with the film, that makes art out of hazy afterimages. The same principles that make a child scared of the dark make this film coalesce into something more. Very much a nightmare, and yet very much a dull ride. I respect Skinamarink and am glad it has found an audience. While I enjoy the nostalgic and fearful trip into the unknown corners of childhood, this is not a film I see rewatching, nor one I can really say I enjoyed. I feel in part, this is far too long, and the success of its structure and style faded with time.
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