EIFF 2026: Skintown
The euphoria of early 90s rave culture and the genuine terror of the Troubles collide in Kieron J Walsh’s Skintown, a lively tale of friendship set in 1994's Enniskillen
Cinema is not short of stories about young people trying to leave their dead-end hometowns, but when that hometown is a tinderbox of sectarian and colonial violence, that yearning for escape feels a bit more urgent. That’s the case for 23-year-old Vinny (Jack Rowan), the protagonist of Skintown. He grew up Catholic in Enniskillen – aka Skintown – and the year is 1994, so he has known nothing else but gun-happy British soldiers on the streets and the real chance that a bomb from one of the various local terrorist groups could go off at any second. That constant threat of annihilation, though, hasn’t dampened the spirits of Vinny’s best pal Jonty (Chris Walley), a lanky livewire who’s happy to rave through civil war. His chief reason to up sticks would be to find better nightlife: preferably Manchester’s Haçienda.
Kieron J Walsh’s film, written by Ciaran McMenamin and based on his own 2017 novel, has plenty of vigour but it can often feel familiar. A sardonic voiceover recalls Trainspotting. Scenes of friendship cemented by dance music call to mind Beats and Human Traffic. It has the swagger of Kneecap and its comedic register is very Derry Girls – the presence of two actors from that great sitcom, Tara Lynne O'Neill and Jamie-Lee O'Donnell, adds to the recycled feel. But the film's atmosphere, blending the euphoria of early 90s rave culture and the genuine terror of the Troubles, makes it very much its own thing.
Skintown also has going for it an incredibly charismatic cast. Rowan is all cheekbones and charm as the brooding lead. Walley is a riot as the pill-popping sidekick. And Hope Ipoku Jnr is soulful as a conflicted black squaddie who gets embroiled in the lads’ highly treacherous money-making scheme, which involves a backpack of ecstasy tablets, a car stolen from their odious boss (Michael Smiley) and a favour owed to a menacing Orangeman (Martin McGann).
Like any wild night of partying, there’s a comedown, and Skintown's lands like a sledgehammer. The film's final act shift in tone is deftly modulated, though. Walsh finds genuine poignancy in this tale of youthful abandon and domestic terror, not by cynically tugging at our heartstrings, but by presenting us with characters who feel real and whom we care deeply about. Music is also wielded with skill. Anyone can evoke 90s nostalgia with a tune from Prodigy or Happy Mondays, or a cameo by Carl Cox, but it’s the leftfield needle drops of Claude Debussy and John Martyn that really bring the feels.
Skintown had its world premiere at EIFF on 16 Aug, with additional screenings 17&18 Aug