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Alice Maio Mackay has the single most consistent body of work of any current indie filmmaker. And she’s only 21. She’s made six films already, with another set for festivals soon. Her latest, The Serpent’s Skin, slithers between queer joy and rage—slimy tentacles that capture the scope of the queer experience. In true Mackay fashion, the story grounds itself in raw humanity and colors with a seemingly monstrous story about a young queer woman killing the worst kinds of men. Written with frequent collaborator Benjamin Pahl Robinson, the film arrives as Mackay’s second-best film, behind Carnage for Christmas.
Anna (Alexandra McVicker) flees her hometown, riddled with transphobic mutants, and finds herself in a brand new city, where she moves in with her sister Dakota (Charlotte Chimes). She’s hoping a fresh start will be just what she needs. She quickly befriends a neighbor named Danny (Jordan Dulieu), a Brendon Urie knockoff, and spends the night with him. In an early conversation, Anna reveals that she’s trans, and Danny doesn’t make a big deal about it whatsoever—a refreshing interaction between a trans woman and a straight guy. And they get right back to hooking up. It’s a moment of pure queer bliss.
Bliss turns to anguish, however, when Anna starts having visions after that one-night stand. Anna possesses hypnotic powers, and in her quest for answers, she meets Gen (Avalon Fast), who’s just like her. Gen teaches her how to harness those powers of destruction, but not before she unleashes a demonic entity through a tattoo she gives Danny. When Gen and Anna walk through the city streets, Anna spots a transphobic sign plastered on a building door, and she’s unable to control her anger, funneling it into using her sorcery against terrible misogynistic trash. Gen nurtures this side of Anna, but Anna wrestles with the moral question about using her queer pain to wield such tremendous power. They seem to be at odds about how to handle it, leading to an unexpected finale when Anna faces down the demon.
Alice Maio Mackay continues her thoughtful exploration of the queer existence within a horror setting, perfecting her style and knack for crafting authentic characters. McVicker, her first film role post-transition, delivers an honest, thunderously quiet performance that taps into the perfect range of queerness required for the story. Fast meets her performance beat-for-beat, sparking up quite an instant chemistry with her co-star. As Anna and Gen’s romance blossoms, so does the actors’ rich, electric onscreen elixir.
The Serpent’s Skin showcases Mackay’s skill at its finest. In 2026, when the world seems even more cruel towards the trans community than ever before, having a strong queer voice consistently release horror that speaks to the current cultural moment can not be overstated. There will surely be a queer kid somewhere in the world, feeling suppressed by their parents or society’s tragic norms, who will watch a film like The Serpent’s Skin and find the strength within themselves to push forward in their lives. Queer Horror literally saves lives, and that’s more important than ever before.
sink. your. teeth.
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