PR in the Philippines

(SeaPRwire) –   Last month, it was confirmed that Chloé Zhao’s planned reboot of Buffy the Vampire Slayer would not be moving forward at Hulu, leaving heartbroken fans who had long hoped for a return to Sunnydale. But there is no need to grieve, Scoobies: the spirit of YA-infused supernatural horror-romance lives on in The Serpent’s Skin.

Now 21 years old and releasing her sixth feature film, Australian writer-director Alice Maio Mackay specializes in DIY independent projects that take familiar genre frameworks and rework them through her own personal experiences, as well as those of the queer community around her. Mackay’s films have grown up alongside their creator, gradually gaining the confidence to step beyond campy storytelling into something far more heartfelt. The Serpent’s Skin is this tipping point.

The visual effects and makeup still clearly mark this as a low-budget production, but in a charmingly retro way that calls back to supernatural teen TV shows from the turn of the millennium — Charmed, for example, or of course, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The full story is self-contained, but keeps the episodic pacing of a television series, introducing its lead characters and building their relationships before introducing a supernatural threat roughly halfway through the film — in this case, a cursed tattoo that transforms the film’s attractive male lead into a snakelike succubus.

In truth, this is really more of a side subplot. The core heart of The Serpent’s Skin is the romance between Anna (Alexandra McVicker), a soft-spoken young trans woman who just escaped her restrictive small town to live with her older sister (Charlotte Chimes), and Gen (Avalon Fast), a tattoo artist and witch who traveled across the world to find the woman she saw in her dreams. Anna is that woman, and the attraction between her and Gen is immediate and strong.

The chemistry between McVicker and Fast is tender, and they make a believable pair as they fall into a soul-baring relationship that grows even more intense through their shared exploration of their psychic abilities, which grow more powerful when they are together. The intimacy Anna shares with Gen — who acts alternately as a lover, teacher, mentor, and best friend to the fledgling witch — is heady and romantic. The film’s connection between queerness and magic is also deeply affirming: Early on, Gen tells Anna that her ability to “pop” into the minds of others is “a defense you’ve built up [that’s] almost automatic,” turning the thick skin Anna developed into a superpower.

Before shifting into monster-of-the-week mode in its second half, The Serpent’s Skin plays like an ethereal Sapphic take on Scanners, with colored lighting that calls to mind another Buffy-inspired work by transfeminine filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun, I Saw the TV Glow. This should come as no surprise; the trans film community is quite small, particularly in the genre space. And while Schoenbrun wasn’t directly involved in The Serpent’s Skin, two other prominent trans filmmakers did contribute — The People’s Joker director Vera Drew, who edited the film; and Castration Movie maestro Louise Weard, who produced it — were on board. Drew’s editing is a particular standout, adding psychedelic touches to the film that greatly boost its dreamlike atmosphere.

In the end, however, The Serpent’s Skin is Mackay’s vision, and her onscreen stand-in McVicker carries it with reserved, watchful grace. This is a fantasy — of belonging, of strength found through softness, of being able to protect the people you love from everything violent and hateful in this world — but it is rooted in lived experience that makes it feel grounded and authentic. Being queer in today’s world can be scary, but it can also be transcendent and beautiful. All of that is reflected here — the emo f*ckboy demon with the serpent fangs is just a fun added bonus.

The Serpent’s Skin is currently playing in select theaters in New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles, and will expand to Alamo Drafthouses across the U.S. on April 10.