The Serpent’s Skin Review: Alice Maio Mackay’s Spellbinding Queer Horror Film Has Witches, Demons, and Heart
FrightFest - UK Premiere
The trans director’s sixth film follows two young women who share a romantic bond—and supernatural abilities
Words by Alex Secilmis 28 August 2025
© Dark Star Pictures
It’s easy to see why some 90s horror properties (The Craft, Charmed, Buffy the Vampire Slayer) have resonated with LBGTQ+ audiences. The secret superpower, the outsider story, the chance to fight your personal demons (and literal ones too)—the supernatural worlds become a safely unsafe space to explore one’s queerness. Chucking those witchy 90s horror influences into a blender and shaking them into her signature spunky, spooky brand of indie film, Alice Maio Mackay’s latest is an explicitly, beautifully queer coming-of-age story that reinvigorates a subgenre.
The Serpent’s Skin is the sixth film from the indie queer horror prodigy, who just turned 21 this month. Where Spike Lee has his “joints”, Mackay introduces her work as “A Transgender Film”, adding “queer” or even “Christmas” (see Carnage for Christmas, 2024) as extra adjectives when necessary. The Australian writer-director centres transness in her filmography both by exploring the everyday realities of trans people and by using the horror genre as a vehicle to engage with queer themes.
© Dark Star Pictures
In the case of The Serpent’s Skin, that practice manifests as the story of a young trans woman with burgeoning magical powers. Trapped in an abusive household, Anna (Alexandra McVicker) leaves her hometown to stay with her sister Dakota (Charlotte Chimes). While shy at first, she settles in quick, hooking up with Danny (Jordan Dulieu), the heavily tattooed, goth boy-next-door whom Dakota deems the only hot guy in the building. Anna then gets a job at a record store, where she meets another love interest: Gen (Avalon Fast), a free-spirited tattoo artist who tells her that they’re both witches. Soon, Anna is learning how to control her powers and finding her people, until a rogue spell threatens to derail her new life.
At only 83 minutes, Mackay and co-writer Benjamin Pahl Robinson economically introduce the premise and the players, but the pacing never feels rushed. With nostalgic charm and enticing world-building, The Serpent’s Skin feels like a TV pilot: the first episode in the next great monster-of-the-week serial. Despite the slim runtime, Mackay pulls off the neat trick of introducing a large cast without sacrificing any depth, while creating a world that feels lived-in and inviting.
© Dark Star Pictures
Complementing Mackay and Robinson’s sharp writing, the characters are fleshed out by an ensemble of striking, earnest performances. Alexandra McVicker is an entrancing lead, playing the new kid in town first with wide-eyed intensity and then a distinct fierceness as her powers develop. Avalon Fast likewise impresses in the mentor role, and her chemistry with McVicker makes for a raw, moving love story. Jordan Dulieu is another standout as Danny, bringing a welcome sensitivity to the part and skilfully adapting when a bit of magic requires his character to undergo some personality changes.
© Dark Star Pictures
As would be expected from Mackay, The Serpent’s Skin stylishly brings its world to life. Aaron Schuppan’s lush, hazy cinematography augments the youthful supernatural tone, while Alexander Taylor and Eduardo Daniel Victoria's score is playful or tender depending on the scene. When Dakota refers to her apartment building as the Bates Motel, the composers respond by evoking Bernard Herrmann’s eerie Psycho strings, while Anna and Gen’s heart-to-hearts are set to warm synth soundscapes.
Continuing Alice Maio Makcay’s prolific run, The Serpent’s Skin is another thrilling queer horror film that leaves you wanting more. If this really were a TV pilot, I would be anxiously awaiting the next episode.