Skillhouse (2025) Parents Guide

Let me start by saying this: Skillhouse is not for the faint of heart or for anyone who still believes “influencer” is a real job. I went in expecting a schlocky, low-tier slasher flick with some TikTok gimmicks sprinkled in. What I got instead was something a bit more bizarre, a bit more biting, and surprisingly often entertaining. Directed by Josh Stolberg (the mind behind Jigsaw and Spiral), and featuring a cast that includes 50 Cent, Neal McDonough, Leah Pipes, Caitlin Carmichael, Bryce Hall, and Hannah Stocking, Skillhouse sets out to drag influencer culture through the blood-soaked halls of horror satire.

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The Story & What It Tries to Say

The movie follows a group of ten influencers your typical click-chasing crew of pranksters, fitness bros, beauty queens, life coaches, and crypto hype beasts who are invited to a mysterious “content mansion” for the collab opportunity of a lifetime. Think Hype House, but if it were curated by a serial killer.

Once inside, the influencers are told the rules: the more views and engagement you get, the safer you are. Fall to the bottom of the follower count leaderboard? You die. Literally. Publicly. On stream.

From there, the plot unfolds like Saw meets Big Brother, only with ring lights and ring tones. At first, it’s kind of hilarious these over-the-top personalities scrambling to stay relevant with desperate TikToks and confessionals while someone in a creepy mask offs the underperformers one by one. But then it gets darker. Desperation kicks in. Alliances form and betrayals start to creep in, and suddenly this silly influencer roast turns into a genuinely tense battle for survival.

What the film tries to say is pretty on-the-nose, but still timely: that in our world of digital currency, clout is power, and validation is addictive and often deadly. It’s about the lengths people will go to for attention, and how easy it is to lose yourself when your value is measured in likes and shares. There’s a brutal irony in watching people live-stream their deaths just to keep their numbers up, and that’s where Skillhouse finds its mean little sweet spot.

Does it always land the message? Not really. Sometimes the satire is as subtle as a sledgehammer. Other times it borders on self-parody. But I’ll give Stolberg credit at least he commits to the bit.

Performances & Characters

This cast is… eclectic, to say the least. You’ve got 50 Cent playing the mysterious benefactor with more muscle than screen time, and while he’s got presence, the script doesn’t give him a whole lot to work with beyond ominous glares and cryptic soundbites.

Then there’s Neal McDonough, who is predictably great. He brings this icy, unsettling gravitas to a role that could’ve been just another cardboard villain. He never chews the scenery too hard, which makes his calm menace even more unnerving.

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But the real surprise? Bryce Hall. Yes, that Bryce Hall from TikTok fame. And look, he’s not going to win any Oscars here, but there’s something oddly perfect about him playing a version of himself: cocky, clueless, and totally trapped in the digital hamster wheel. His performance feels raw in a way that kind of works for the tone of the film. You can tell he’s not polished and that actually makes it feel more real.

Leah Pipes deserves way more praise than she’ll probably get. Her character the only one with anything resembling a moral compass grounds the movie when everything else gets ridiculous. She’s the emotional center, and she delivers some of the film’s only genuinely human moments. Caitlin Carmichael and Hannah Stocking are entertaining in their own right, but mostly stay in the “archetype” zone: the vapid beauty guru, the chaos-loving prankster, etc.

Most of the characters are designed to be disposable and that’s by design. They’re walking memes, and the film treats them like they’re already dead inside. The fact that most of them die isn’t really a spoiler… it’s more of a punchline.

Direction, Visuals & Pacing

Josh Stolberg knows his way around horror especially the kind that makes you wince. Skillhouse is no exception. It’s stylish, fast-paced, and brutal when it wants to be. The kills are graphic and creative, like viral challenges from hell. There’s one involving a drone and another with influencer merch that genuinely made me say “holy sh*t” out loud.

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The mansion setting is a character of its own: pristine, hollow, and sterile a perfect metaphor for influencer life. Everything looks flawless on camera, but the deeper you go, the emptier it feels. There’s a tracking shot early in the film that glides through the house as the influencers set up their content stations, and it’s both hilarious and haunting. The lighting is washed in neon and ring light glow, and it’s all very intentional. The aesthetic screams “manufactured authenticity.”

The pacing is solid for the first two-thirds. There’s a real rhythm to the kills and challenges, and the viewer is constantly second-guessing who’s next. But in the final act, things start to lag. The satire gets muddled, the tone wavers, and it doesn’t quite stick the landing. It almost feels like Stolberg wanted to go full meta or full camp and couldn’t decide which road to take.

Still, there are moments that work visually and tonally. The horror isn’t groundbreaking, but it’s inventive. And most importantly, it’s fun.

Skillhouse (2025) Parents Guide

Violence & Gore: Expect severe, graphic violence. The premise itself sets the tone—a dozen social media influencers trapped in a mansion, forced into a brutal “post or die” challenge, with the least-liked participant executed onscreen. The kills are inventive, gory, and meant to shock—described as so intense that one crew member actually fainted during filming en.wikipedia.org. There’s no shortage of blood and horror imagery, and the tone rarely eases.

Language: Warning the film does not hold back on profanity. Expect a heavy barrage of strong language frequent f-bombs, s-bombs, and other vulgar terms peppered across scenes. The provocative dialogue fits the savage tone of the script.

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Sexual Content & Nudity: Sexual content is more suggestive than graphic, but it leans toward the adult side. Any nudity or sexual themes serve the influencer-culture critique don’t expect anything romantic or tame. The IMDb parents guide labels Sex & Nudity content as “severe” While there’s no full-blown sex scene, the tone clearly leans mature and provocative.

Alcohol, Drugs & Smoking: Influencer culture is portrayed in full throttle so yes, you’ll find substantial alcohol use, party scenes, possibly recreational drug use, and typical adult behavior. Again, IMDb flags this category as “severe”.

Frightening & Intense Scenes: These are not for children. Between bloody executions and psychological terror, the film sustains a tense, grim tone throughout. IMDb describes its frightening intensity as “severe”. It’s unsettling and meant to evoke shock—this isn’t just jump scares; it’s a full-blown horror experience.

Recommended Age: Under 16: Absolutely not suitable. It’s graphic, disturbing, and heavily adult in scope.

Conclusion

Skillhouse is messy, mean, and not afraid to get its hands dirty. It doesn’t care if you like the characters and honestly, neither should you. It’s a loud, gory, self-aware takedown of influencer culture that works better than it has any right to. It’s not trying to be profound. It’s trying to entertain you while holding up a cracked mirror to the digital age, and in that, it succeeds more often than it fails.

This is a movie for horror fans who enjoy a little snark with their splatter. If you liked Bodies Bodies Bodies or The Belko Experiment, this is right up your alley. It’s also for anyone who’s ever scrolled past a thirst trap and thought, “We are so doomed as a species.