Title: The Skin I Live In
Directed By: Pedro Almodóvar
Starring: Antonio Banderas, Elena Anaya, Blanca Suárez, Jan Cornet, Marisa Paredes, Bárbara Lennie, Eduard Fernández, Roberto Álamo
Ever since the release of the film’s trailer, it’s been quite apparent that The Skin I Live In doesn’t play by the industry’s standard rules of story telling. While this is generally a stellar characteristic in terms of innovation, it also runs the risk of, well, being confusing. The Skin I Live In isn’t too tough to follow, but the storyline does delve into some elements particularly deeply and glosses over others, and while this recipe might work for some, for others it could keep the piece from having the intended effect.
After his wife is burned in a car accident, prominent plastic surgeon Dr. Robert Legard (Antonio Banderas) turns his attention towards developing a second skin. In the privacy of his in-home facility, he manages to create something that’s not only soft to the touch, but has the power to withstand heightened weathering, or burning.
The problem is, his accomplishment isn’t exactly ethical, as it requires a human test subject. That’s where Vera (Elena Anaya) comes in. She lives relatively comfortably in Robert’s mansion, El Cigarral, albeit like a prisoner, confined to her bedroom. Robert visits her frequently and seemingly cares deeply for her, even beyond his research, but the sentiment isn’t always reciprocated.
The Skin I Live In is a rather tough one to synopsize as a potential spoiler lurks around every corner. Also making it tough to sum up is the unusual story structure. The film begins in Toledo in 2012, but then jumps back six years, moves ahead a few weeks and then returns to the present. Flashbacks are frequent on the big screen, but here we get something that attempts to transcend the flashback designation and become the film. The sensation that we’re looking back on something is tough to shake, but once we’re immersed in the relatively new storyline, it feels as though we’ve been here all along, which is quite necessary for the film’s climax to have the intended impact.
Even beyond the timeline, The Skin I Live In is an unusual story in that it’s got quite the number of characters to offer all of which have a history. In the supporting department, there’s Jan Cornet as Vincente, a young man with his eye on Robert’s daughter. Courtesy of getting a peek at his home life – or shop life as we get a taste of his relationship with his mother in the dress shop she owns – Vincente becomes a character we understand which is vital as his actions later in the film could make him a bit deplorable. There’s also Marilia (Marisa Paredes), the loyal caretaker of El Cigarral. We get a sense of her personal life, too, via an encounter with her son, Zeca (Roberto Álamo). The problem here is that unlike with Vincente, this portion of the film does little for the piece as a whole, merely enhancing Marilia alone. There is some value to this, but the problem is that you don’t realize that until a certain point, so, up until that point, you’re left wondering why we’re seeing this action.
As for Robert, he goes through a rather unusual method of character development as he’s so incredibly intertwined with Vera. We get pieces of them both alone – by spending some time with Vera in her not so humble abode and by getting a look at Robert’s past and his work – but they’re so intricately woven together, it’s almost impossible to look at either as his or her own entity.
Clearly a cryptic presentation is somewhat of a goal for Almodóvar. That’d be fine had the big twist paid off, but personally, I saw it coming miles away, which in turn, make the whole experience leading up to that point less exhilarating than it could have been. It might not be entirely accurate to blame it on this, but I’d recommend steering clear of the film’s trailer before seeing it in full. Regardless, some of the fault comes from the lack of a connection between the audience and the characters. Kudos to Almodóvar for creating endlessly intriguing main players and weaving them together exceptionally well, but that still doesn’t necessarily turn them into people you care about and that’s something that proves to be a major problem when the pieces finally come together. Rather than be overwhelmed by the intensity of what just happened, you wind up muttering a meek, “oh, wow,” and moving on with your life.
However, while the twist might not have packed the punch it could have, The Skin I Live In is still a particularly innovative experience worthy of your time. The concept is fascinatingly inventive and rather ingenious. Almodóvar nails the presentation through a stimulating shot selection and by creating a solid tone, and the film overall will suck you right in. Yes, mystery is a pivotal part of the game and a straight storyline would have had no chance at doing the story justice, but perhaps trimming a few details would have resulted in a more shocking and moving conclusion.
Technical: A-
Acting: A-
Story: B-
Overall: B
