This movie is a masterclass in everything not to do in a screenplay—and yet, weirdly, I kind of loved that.
Let’s be clear: Skill House is a mess. The pacing is off, throwing us into what feels like the second act from the very first frame, without bothering to establish any of its paper-thin characters. After a jarring opening scene that plays like it’s from a movie already halfway through—and begins without so much as a studio logo to signal the trailers are over—we’re hit with an equally baffling credit sequence, showing us footage of people we haven’t even met yet, as though we’re supposed to know who the fuck they are. These aren’t characters so much as a collection of offensive stereotypes—about gay people, women, and minorities—that would’ve felt dated even in the ’90s.
The “plot” is less a narrative and more a chaotic jumble of twists that are somehow both predictable and completely out of nowhere. The main conceit—that whichever influencer has the fewest likes before the round ends dies—is mashed together with Saw-style “live or die, make your choice” death sequences. But since the movie’s already told us they’re doomed for losing, the idea that they have a “choice” is pointless. These scenes feel like they’re thrown in just to rip off Saw, despite being made by people who actually worked on that franchise, which somehow makes it worse.
There’s also a religious motive for the killer, lifted wholesale from Se7en, and then promptly abandoned—like the film got bored of its own premise halfway through. This is even more embarrassing when you consider the fact that the original Saw is itself very much a Se7en rip-off, so in a way, the writer is ripping off his own sequels to a rip-off.
But here’s the thing: there’s a certain chaotic charm to how wrong it all goes. It’s like watching someone try to bake a cake using glue instead of icing—they’re failing spectacularly, but you can’t look away. It teeters on the same level of divine anti-art as bad movie staples like The Room or Troll 2. Every time it makes the wrong choice, it commits to it so hard you almost have to respect the confidence.
Is it good? God, no. But there’s something endearing—and genuinely entertaining—about a movie that thinks it’s being smart, even when it clearly isn’t. You might just find yourself enjoying it in spite of itself. I know I did.
