Pedro Almodóvar’s films have
always been off-the-wall, melodramatic and a little bit nuts, but few would
have predicted that he would make a foray into the rigid generic confines of
the horror film. The even more surprising fact, in truth, is that he has done
so to such great effect. For his new film, The Skin I Live In, is a smooth, luscious, and almost-satisfying film that
entertains like the best of his work.
Antonio Banderas – reunited with
the director after 21 years – plays Dr Robert Ledgard, a brilliant yet troubled
surgeon, who, we soon learn, is keeping a young woman hostage in his house.
Using her body as a canvas for his most outré experiments, Ledgard has set
about entirely replacing her skin with an artificial skin that is sensitive yet
resistant to flame. The rest of the plot is impossible to summarise without
spoilers, hinging as much of it does on a central plot twist, but it can be
said that it is typically non-linear and mysterious. The question of who the
captive is is the key to it all. Themes of Stockholm Syndrome (as in 1990’s Átame), identity – both sexual and
personal –, tragedy, love and loss spring up throughout.
Banderas’s character may be the
screen archetype of the mad scientist: hubristic to a fault and tormented by
demons from his past, yet his character, like the movie, manages to be so much
more. This is, in part, down to Banderas’s fine performance, but also to the
striking mix of genres and allusion that the director employs throughout. For,
the film contains not only horror, but also sci-fi, thriller, comedy and more –
managing to be very Almodóvar and very pulpy simultaneously.
Despite being plainly ridiculous
for much of its running time – and archly so – what I felt genuinely let the
action down was the relative earliness of the twist – or the lack of a second
one. Coming a full half-an-hour before the film’s ending, it has the effect of
destroying any dramatic tension that had been fastidiously built up. So much so
that I almost lost interest in the final few scenes, even given the pervasive
uncanniness, which is always facinating .
All of which is a shame, as The Skin I Live In succeeds in so many
other ways. For example: the cast, like leading man Banderas, is great to a man; the cinematography and music, as we have come to expect with Almodóvar, is
both beautiful and fitting, too.
Overall, while you may leave the
cinema disappointed by parts of the story, there is no doubt that the films
eeriness, beauty and fun will stay with you for a long time afterwards.
