Review of The Skin I Live In (2011) by Joshua B — 14 Sep 2012

The Skin I Live In stars Antonio Banderas as Robert, a visionary plastic surgeon who, in the wake of his wife's suicide after her disfigurement in a car crash, becomes bent on creating a new form of perfect skin, which he is testing on his subject, Vera, whom he keeps locked in a room in his house. Even the premise is weird, and indeed, could in the hands of a lesser director been an utterly bizarre mess. But Almodovar is too sophisticated and sharp-witted for that. Make no mistake, the film is bizarre, sometimes incomprehensibly so. It features an absurdly disturbing comic rape scene involving a man dressed in a tiger suit. And that's just a taste of the depths of depravity Almodovar's storytelling goes to as its narrative twists and turns surprisingly through means of a series of flashbacks. What is really at the core of Skin is, in accordance with the film's title, Almodovar's fascination with bodies, with gender identity and personal violation. He contrasts notions of masculine sexual aggression with female passivity in a way that is not mere torture porn. Indeed, the way Robert keeps Vera under surveillance and confinement to render her passive and compliant is not torture, at least not physically, for she cannot even feel pain thanks to his skin advancements. But there is violence to be had here: physical violence and psychological violence and systemic violence, and not all in as simple a way as it first seems.

Whether experiencing The Skin I Live In as my first exposure to Pedro Almodovar gives an accurate impression of his filmography as a whole, it nevertheless makes an indelible impression of his artistry, and will surely see me seeking out his other work.