Skunk Train

Ben Hauck nails the narration in *Skunk Train*, delivering a performance that’s equal parts weary veteran and teenage hothead. His Kyle sounds like he’s been chain-smoking since age twelve, his voice cracking with exhaustion and adrenaline, while Lizzie’s lines cut through like a switchblade—sharp, sarcastic, and just reckless enough to keep you guessing. Hauck’s range is impressive; he toggles between the two leads with ease, but where he really shines is in the supporting cast. The drug dealers sound like they’ve been marinating in bad decisions, the cops ooze corruption with every word, and Kyle’s dad, the Hollywood director, drips with privilege and denial. The pacing is relentless, but a few stretches where the kids bicker or over-explain their plans drag just enough to remind you this isn’t a polished crime drama. There’s also a glaring production hiccup—the mid-scene fade-out on one chapter’s cliffhanger feels like a botched edit, and the abrupt jump in audio quality in the final act is jarring. Still, those are minor stumbles in an otherwise gripping listen. The real hook here is the moral gray zone Clifford carves out. Kyle and Lizzie aren’t heroes; they’re kids who got in over their heads and are too stubborn to admit it. By the time you reach the derailment finale (yes, derailment is literal), you’ll be white-knuckling your phone, wondering if Hauck’s performance will stay consistent—but it does, and it’s worth every second. If you want a thriller that feels lived-in and lived hard, this one’s a winner.