Skinford: Death Sentence (2017)
Directed by: Nik Kacevski
Written by: Nik Kacevski, Tess Meyer
Starring: Joshua Brennan, Charlotte Best, Goran D. Kleut, Roger Sciberras, Edward McKenna
Release Date: 2017
Available on: Prime Video

There are films that grab hold of a great idea and run with it. And then there’s Skinford: Death Sentence, which takes a perfectly decent concept into a back alley, then bludgeons it to death with bad writing and indifference. It shows how even the best ideas can be buried under layers of poor execution and crap performances. I saw this under the watchful eye of my grandmother, who has effectively moved in like a prison warden to make sure my late-night viewing choices don’t warp my young mind. However, I am gradually warming her to the gross horror films I like to watch while doing my homework, so at least there’s that.

The narrative follows Jimmy “Skinny” Skinford (Joshua Brennan), an Australian con artist who, in a twist of fate, discovers a woman with the gift of immortality for herself and for anyone she touches while digging his own grave. This discovery throws him into a chaotic underworld filled with danger.

On paper, this plot holds potential. The fusion of crime thriller elements with supernatural intrigue could have offered a fresh take on both genres. However, the film squanders this opportunity, delivering a disjointed story that fails to engage or thrill.

Goran D. Kleut plays Falkov, a sadistic Russian doctor who clearly stepped straight out of a comic book. He brands and mutilates his victims, and generally behaves like the kind of villain who should be twirling a moustache while delivering his lines in a sinister growl. I actually liked his character. I even understood some of his Russian. He was a grotesque pantomime villain, and was good fun. I wanted more of him and was disappointed there was so little.

Similarly, we have “Suit” (Roger Sciberras), a crime boss who looks like he wandered in from a completely different, much better film. He spends a minute talking rationally about cookery—one of the few genuinely entertaining moments—before launching into head-lopping mode. He could have been an asset to the film, but was also wasted, given too little screen time to develop into anything more than a passing curiosity.

The exploding women were, without a doubt, the film’s high point. The splatter effects were absurdly over-the-top in the best way possible, like someone finally remembered they were making a genre film and decided to have fun with it. But it was all over too quickly. I barely had time to fantasise about boys and teachers in my school who might usefully be cut open and fitted with bombs, before it was all over. Another wasted opportunity.

The lead actors deliver performances that can best be described as indifferent. Joshua Brennan’s portrayal of Jimmy Skinford lacks the charisma and depth needed to carry the film, making it difficult for audiences to care about his journey. Charlotte Best’s Zophia, the immortal woman, is equally underwhelming, offering little beyond a stoic presence.

In the end, Skinford: Death Sentence is the kind of film that doesn’t leave you reflecting on its themes or hidden depths, but on how much of your life you just wasted watching it. It’s a reminder that a good concept is just the beginning.

Evadendum est.