Fitting the aesthetic and vibes of Montreal’s Fantasia Festival entirely, The Serpent’s Skin represents underground cinema to perfection.
Filled with the punk grunge colouring and lighting you would expect from alternative cinema, it’s evident that something unique is about to be viewed.
After escaping her transphobic small town, Anna (Alexandra McVicker) embarks on a supernatural journey leading to a romantic relationship developing between her and another young woman. Moving in with her sister is not as bad as it had originally seemed, clearly. Within hours of moving in, she’s met the building hottie, Danny (Jordan Dulieu), and befriends him. Anna wants to move on from the traumas of her old town. She gets a job to help her sister with rent and tries to make friends. As she accustoms herself to her new surroundings, Anna begins to experience weird hallucinations and finds strange things occurring around her. Gen (Avalon Fast), a goth tattoo artist, has powers as well and senses that Anna is nearby. Gen finds Anna, and the two begin to discover what they can do together. What happens as a result of their powers, however, is something they would have never expected or meant to happen.
For viewers who have not yet watched any of director Alice Maio Mackay’s previous work, it is still evident that this young female has a unique style worthy of developing to greater extents. After T Blockers (2023) and Carnage for Christmas (2024), fans of her previous works will be excited to see what she brings next. As though nodding to previous underground queer filmmakers, such as Greg Araki and John Waters, Mackay’s choices are grunge and absurd, yet they work with the overall style and tone of the film. Opening with intense colour changes – almost with that three-dimensional vision effect – and punk-rock type, grunge text overlaying the film as it introduces the film and the crew. At times, it feels as though the audience is being transported back into the world of gothic/indie television from the late 1990s or early 2000s, with some reminders of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003) and The Craft (1996) here and there. There is a clear goal that Mackay establishes from the beginning of the film and allows the audience to experience it throughout.
Anna and Gen are witches; there is no doubt about it. It is evident from the start that they are connected. Mackay’s film chooses to focus on the individual experience felt by young queer women, and it is conveyed through a story of magic and how people are set apart when they are different. The viewer is required to use deeper thinking to figure out their true intentions, but is left with many hints and clues to guide them along their way, just like Anna and Gen find their way. The use of editing within Anna’s premonitions and the actors' emotions on camera all of these elements work together to share their connection with the audience, long before the two even meet. Anna begins creating a place for herself in this new town with her sister, finding a job, and making friends. As she spends a day at work, this is when her powers are truly discovered, and another day, when Gen comes and finds her. Their connection is established within moments, and they become somewhat inseparable. Mackay even adds hints about the girls’ relationship into the film before the climax. As Anna and Gen head to a bar, Anna is dressed as an angel and Gen is in black, hinting at what could be yet to come.
As the film focuses on the experiences of two young queer women, there are necessary requirements to convey their emotions to the audience, allowing them to experience what the girls are feeling as well. Using overlaying scenes and intense colour changes, Mackay is able to showcase the feeling of hallucinating as Anna experiences it herself. Taking a step further into the importance of queer cinema, Mackay chooses not to spend much time reminiscing on Anna being a transwoman or on the girls being queer; they just are. Not only is the film inherently about these young queer girls, but it can also be read as an homage to their experiences and individual journeys. Through the use of dialogue, including a jab at witches being burned in the Salem trials, along with the two actors’ portrayals, there is a clear understanding of what one might feel in their situation. As a young transwoman, Anna had a bad life in her old town, and she is therefore worried about messing up her fresh start; these unknown powers will not help those emotions get any better. Gen, on the other hand, is less of an open book to the audience, but her dark past can only be assumed. Like everyone, we all need somebody we can trust, and Anna and Gen find that in each other.
There are moments in The Serpent’s Skin that feel too fast for the audience to grasp what is going on. Not only does it feel like the plot is being rushed, but there is also less time for proper character development. Characters are introduced, somewhat out of the blue, and we are invited to connect with them in ways we are unable to. Danny, for instance, is key to the plot of The Serpent’s Skin, yet he is only known to the audience as the building ‘bad boy’ with no personal development. The montage sequences and overlapping of certain clips for that hallucinogenic effect cause the film to feel more rushed, with less being shown to audiences. Key points in the film’s climax can be missed as well, if the viewer does not truly understand. As Anna begins to understand she holds a magical gift, the audience may find her discovery shocking and confusing, given how it is conveyed. However, Mackay creates a solution when Gen announces what has happened and comes up with a solution to their problem. While it feels inevitable for films of beginner filmmakers to miss some details, Mackay’s project excels elsewhere. There are still ways to connect with both Anna and Gen, which remains important for the film to keep its underlying meaning.
Both McVicker and Fast – a Fantasia alumni – bring genuine emotion and creativity to their portrayals of Anna and Gen. While other cast members have talented performances, it is the genuine connection created between McVicker and Fast that allows for the two protagonists to be seen and understood by audiences. As Anna is young and naïve, the discovery of these unexplainable powers leaves her worried and scared. Gen must be the support in her life, though she needed some for herself as well. As the two come into their relationship as opposites, they begin to realize who they can be to and for each other. The young actors display talent and deliver their dialogue through entertaining yet empathetic means. McVicker and Fast also form a deep connection with both the queer and witchy characteristics their characters have and develop. Without two promising young actors as the two protagonists, there would have been nothing for the audience to become empathetic towards or connect with emotionally.
The Serpent’s Skin does leave audiences wondering where Anna and Gen will end up and what will happen next, but it does provide a fresh take on that underground queer cinema audiences have come to know. Connecting the queer experience to the Salem witch trials, involving characters who are not concerned about Anna’s birth gender, and much more subtle hints are just some of how Mackay showcases her individuality as a filmmaker and forges a new path for the genre.
A witchy experience like no other, The Serpent’s Skin brings audiences back to the aesthetic of television and films from the late 1990s or early 2000s. With few faults, Mackay creates a new underground queer project that showcases young talent all around, in both the actors and the director. The Serpent’s Skin had its Canadian premiere at the 2025 Fantasia Film Festival in Montreal on July 23, 2025. The film is part of Fantasia’s Underground section and will no doubt provide mixed reactions for members in the audience, but hopefully provide for a discussion to commence surrounding its content.
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