Film Fests
Brooklyn Horror Film Fest 2025: ‘The Serpent’s Skin’ Review
I often get the sense when watching a new Alice Maio Mackay movie that I’ll be seeing it in a documentary about the director in the not-so-distant future. The Serpent’s Skin, which marks the 6th feature film of the now 21-year-old Mackay, feels like the end of the first chapter, signaling the beginning of a new, even more accomplished era of her already prolific filmmaking career.
The Serpent’s Skin Continues Mackay’s Efforts to Center Transness With Empathy and Joy
Mackay opens all her films with credits informing the audience that we’re watching “A Transgender Film” (or some variation thereof), and The Serpent’s Skin is no exception. The film stars Alexandra McVicker as Anna, an endearingly shy and awkward trans woman who leaves her abusive home to live with her sister in the big city. There, she quickly hooks up with the hot neighbor, Danny (Jordan Dulieu), before meeting and falling head over heels for tattoo artist Gen (Avalon Fast, whose film Camp also played at the festival this year).
Horror movies with trans characters (especially ones played by trans actors) are rare enough already. Mackay’s superpower is bringing these characters to life with not only empathy and dignity, but also empowerment and a healthy dose of humor. Her films are infused with small details about trans life that will be largely familiar to a queer audience, always treated in a way that ensures they will come across as entirely ordinary to any cishet viewers who have somehow found themselves here. With queerness and transness comfortably established as the norm, she then shines a spotlight on trans anxieties before creating space for trans euphoria and joy.
Queer Joy Vibrates Through Every Frame of The Serpent’s Skin
This begins with Anna interrupting a hot-and-heavy moment with Danny to nervously tell him that she’s trans. Danny’s nonchalant response and Anna’s visible relief is refreshing to watch, leading to the first of several sensual sex scenes in the film, all amplified by Alexander Taylor and Eduardo Daniel Victoria’s dreamy score and the layered editing of Vera Drew.
But the most notable element of queer empowerment in The Serpent’s Skin is in the introduction of Anna’s psychic abilities. These first emerge on screen as she runs out the would-be thief holding up the record store where she’s working, leaving him bleeding from the eyes. This attracts the attention of Gen, who reveals that she possesses similar powers. They proceed to use their abilities for (mostly) good, torching a transphobic flyer with their minds and saving a woman from an attacker, before Gen inadvertently conjures a monster through a tattoo.
Mackay and co-writer Benjamin Pahl Robinson’s script has shades of Scanners, Carrie, and other psychic-phenomena films, which makes sense: this subgenre uniquely resonates with queer folks for its portrayal of people who are othered and the wish-fulfillment aspect of their powers. Like The Craft (another clear influence) before it, The Serpent’s Skin portrays these abilities with both joy and gravitas, using them as a vehicle to explore Gen’s troubled inner world. Dressed predominantly in black, she could easily be mistaken for the devil on white-clad Anna’s shoulder. But where another film might conclude that Gen is a bad influence on the quiet Anna (the Nancy to The Craft’s good-girl Sarah), Mackay offers this couple up as two incomplete halves that make a beautiful whole.
Mackay Is Just Getting Started, and The Serpent’s Skin Suggests She’s Going Somewhere Great
It’s all very wholesome, the kind of work designed to leave a queer audience smiling, and we need more of that. From a “Fuck Trump” tattoo on a cute boy’s arm to an offhand reference to Alice Cooper’s recent transphobic remarks, The Serpent’s Skin is littered with reminders of the frightening position queer and especially trans people are in right now—but, critically, it doesn’t dwell on them.
What we’re left with is a sweet and steamy sapphic romance that feels like an episode of a ’90s monster-of-the-week show shelved for being too queer. It’s also Mackay’s most accomplished work yet in terms of pacing, atmosphere, and technical prowess, but she’s clearly working up to something even bigger and better. As she continues to grow in skill and confidence, audiences in the know are in for a treat. It’s time to get in on the ground floor with Mackay because this is only the first chapter, and the next one is going to be huge.
It’s very interesting when critics cover Part # of a franchise without having seen the previous entries. I’ve personally seen critics who flat-out say that Part 2 or 3 doesn’t make sense without having seen the previous film. And therein lies the problem: film critics who refuse to admit they haven’t seen EVERYTHING. But does the hard work rely solely on the film critic (or the general viewer)? Should a sequel (or third in a trilogy) drop in heavy context clues for someone who is just now tuning in? I think the answer falls somewhere between those points. Of the many reasons, that is one of the main reasons I was able to enjoy The Barn Part III so much. Let’s dig into it.
Some time ago, Pastor Josh Harper (Courtney Gains) assumed he had rid the world of evil. He was dead wrong. Well, hopefully just wrong. His nephew Kyle (Tristan Olsen) and friend Megan (Amanda Byrne) accidentally re-unleash the evil; Josh must attempt to vanquish it. Again. There’s just one big problem…the Fall Festival is going on, and damn near the entire town will be in attendance. What can go wrong?
Can You Review PT. 3 Without Seeing PTS. 1&2?
Before we really get into it, I think we should jump back to the point I was making in the intro. I have seen tons of posts, screenshots, and scenes from The Barn franchise over the years. For some reason, I’ve never gotten around to seeing the films. So there was a sort of internal struggle when deciding whether or not to cover The Barn Part III. Would I watch it just for fun? What if I didn’t like it? Sure, I could review the film on its own merits, disregarding moments that don’t make sense to a first-time viewer. But that felt disingenuous. After writing a weighty pros and cons list, I figured, what the hell. Let’s give it a watch! It turns out that was the right decision.
Co-writers Justin M. Seamen and Zane Hershberger do an excellent job of balancing fan service and, surprisingly, first-time viewers. There are definitely moments where I felt a bit lost, though I was able to put the pieces together based on context clues after sitting with the film for a few hours. By the time the credits rolled, I felt like I saw enough (as a first time viewing of the franchise) to understand how we got to this point in the franchise. Moreover, it made me more motivated than ever to go back and watch the first two films. If The Barn Part III is this gory, then I can only assume there’s a similar level of gore to the first two.
Strong Script, Stronger Kills
Hershberger and Seamen tell a tale that’s not overwhelmingly original; evil is raised and must be stopped by the good people. It’s a race against the clock, fast-paced creature feature/slasher. It’s hard to really reinvent the wheel there. And somehow, Herhshberger and Seamen manage to make you feel like you haven’t really seen anything like it before. Even during moments of slightly cheesy dialogue, the script’s tone stays beyond consistent that it just all feels right. To me, that feels very rare in this subgenre of film. Rather than being nothing but conduits for buckets of blood, the characters in The Barn Part III exist within their story purpose while still feeling fully fleshed out.
Much of The Barn Part III’s enjoyment comes from the delightful performances of the film’s lead cast. Courtney Gains takes the reins from Will Stout as Josh Harper, and Gains is wonderfully charming. Much of his screen time is shared with Night of the Comet’s Kelli Maroney, who is still an absolute blast to watch on the screen. But it’s one of The Barn Part III’s co-leads, Amanda Byrne, who steals the show. It’s hard to believe this film is Byrne’s debut feature acting role. She really gives it her all, and you can feel it through the screen.
The Barn Part III Is a Practical Effect Gorefest
Enough edging. Let’s get into the actual meat and potatoes of The Barn Part III: the kills. Simply put, Justin M. Seamen and Zane Hershberger struck gold. I’ve seen way too many slasher films/creature features, so this isn’t hyperbolic…The Barn Part III has some of the most insane, captivating, and bloody kills I’ve seen. Especially for an indie film. Whatever the budget was, the film looks like it was more expensive than that.
I have a feeling that there is a heavy crossover between fans of this franchise and Joe Bob Briggs, so let me put it to you this way. The Barn Part III has it all: bisections, dissections, full-body degloving, mini killer pumpkins, pitchfork-fu, shotgun-fu, vine-fu…and that’s just scratching the surface. Besides transporting me to a time and place that I hold dear to my heart, the late 90s and early aughts, this film just checked every single box for me. I can only hope the first two do the same.
The Barn Part III is a violent, practical effects-filled rollercoaster that doesn’t let off the brakes from the jump. To me, this feels like the proper send-off to a franchise I’m new to, and it’s giving me severe FOMO. Full of insane kills and a charming main cast, The Barn Part III is neck and neck for best of the fest for me. Do yourself a favor, gas up your tractor and get to The Barn as soon as possible.
I frequently start my reviews about horror comedies along the lines of, “I typically don’t enjoy horror comedies…” and I noticed something: I’ve been saying that a lot. Has there been such a shift in horror comedies over the past few years? Or have I finally started looking in the right places? I started saying that line in my festival review coverage around the time I saw Sean Nichols Lynch’s Red Snow, and here I am five years later saying the same exact thing. Have I changed? Probably. All of that is to say, the first film I screened for GenreBlast X was Demonetize, and it restored my faith in the make-fun-of-influencers subgenre of horror.
What Is Demonetize About?
Martin Robinson (Sean Carrigan), host of Ghost Pros, and his cameraman/sidekick Terrence (Matty Cardarople) plan to bring the Ratliff House into the internet age. After Martin calls out Paul Corey (Cherdleys) on Jackie London’s (Kimia Behpoornia!!) podcast, Paul and a host of other online influencers, including Jane Lincoln (Janine Hogan), descend onto the Ratliff House to see if it’s as haunted as everyone says it is. But little does everyone know what deadly plans the ghosts have in store for the ill-fated influencers.
There Is NO AI in Demonetize!
First off, whoever’s idea it was to have “fuck AI” at the end of the credits deserves a standing ovation. Co-writers Janine Hogan and Alexander Boyd Watson took a chance with Demonetize, battling the influx of influencer-based horror. Very few seem to really nail the cohesion of creating characters who are just annoying enough without pissing off the filmgoer and crafting the right characters to make you feel something for. Moreover, the way Hogan and Watson craft an ensemble piece that gives everyone a moment to shine (like a diamond or a turd) helps glue the emotional threads from tip to tail.
Impressive Script About Annoying People
It’s hard not to be impressed by the writing prowess of this duo, but what’s even harder not to be impressed by is the restraint it took to not make Demonetize a found footage film. And that’s coming from someone who would consider found footage to be their favorite subgenre. There are a handful of times when you can see/feel the budget, which could have been easily obfuscated through found footage means. But instead, Demonetize is presented traditionally–warts and all– and you can feel the charm and craft behind it.
Much of the humor from Demonetize comes from Paul Corey and Martin Robinson. Cherdlys and Sean Carrigan, respectively, bring enough charm to their characters while maintaining the line of good and bad taste. Director Alexander Boyd Watson could have easily let Cherdlys take the Shawn Ruddy a la Deadstream route, but that route never works. Rather, Watson’s direction is more gauchely soft. We constantly get that influencer-like humor and annoyance, but there’s a beautiful balance that keeps everything entertaining.
The Horror of It All
While the humor lands and feels purposeful, Demonetize exists in this eerily frightening atmosphere. Once the house takes control, the humor slowly fades, leading to some memorable and creepy moments. The horror-y side of Demonetize won’t keep you up at night, nor will it make you rush to your bedroom after shutting off the hallway lights, but it’s different enough to stand out from the majority of influencer-based horror flicks.
There are some moments where the filmmakers rely a bit too heavily on CGI that doesn’t look too great. And honestly, it’s a relief to know their stance on AI. Too many times I have caught a film at a festival, and it’s full of AI, and no one seems to care. So it’s refreshing to see some CGI that maybe doesn’t look the greatest, but at least it’s not AI!
Overall, Demonetize is a fresh flick in an oversaturated subgenre. It delivers on laughs, some solid scares, and a cast of social media-obsessed people who you actually don’t hate. And that’s rare. Demonetize is a great horror film to throw on your rotation for our upcoming 31 for 31 (or 61 Days to Halloween). And extra points because this is now the second horror film I’ve seen with a Dropout.TV cast member!
