Pedro Almodovar's movies are so beguiled by lustrous surface textures and colors (fabrics, hair, makeup, architecture, upholstery, jewelry) that the title "The Skin I Live In" (or "The Skin That I Inhabit," as I've seen "La piel que habito" translated elsewhere) would serve well as the name of his artistic autobiography. It's a shimmering horror-farce-melodrama quilted together from scraps of Georges Franju's 1960 "Eyes Without a Face," Andre de Toth's 1953 "House of Wax" (without the one-eyed 3D) and Douglas Sirk's 1954 "Magnificent Obsession" and 1959 "Imitation of Life" -- though it doesn't stop there -- about a mad doctor, a pioneering plastic-surgeon Dr. Frankenstein named Robert Ledgard (Antonio Banderas, of course) whose personal life has been scarred by tragedy.
That's all I'm going to say about the plot because stitching together all the parts is so much of the pleasure of watching the movie. It begins in the middle, folds back to fill in a few mysterious spots in the patchwork, and then unpredictably pieces together the rest of the picture, bit by bit, for an absurdly touching and tentative finish.
Let's start after the end: the background of the final credits is a twisted strand of DNA made of crystalline jewels (diamonds or rhinestones?) that catch and refract supersaturated hues as if they were being illuminated by a 1960s color wheel -- the kind they used on shiny aluminum Christmas trees. (Any resemblance to the gems in the opening credits of Sirk's "Imitation of Life" is, I imagine, entirely intentional.)
The movie itself, after a single viewing, feels to me like an elaborately crafted piece of costume jewelry -- cleverly posing, as it does, some questions about illusion, identity and authenticity. In a world of artifice, what is artificial? How do exteriors affect interiors? If you change your skin, are you still the same person underneath? If everyone wears a disguise and nobody is who he/she appears to be, what (if anything) do surfaces reveal?
Dr. Ledgard invents a new kind of skin -- not only silky smooth and utterly without wrinkles or blemishes (thanks to subtle CGI airbrushing), but tough. It's resistant to burns, bruises and pain. But, of course, what's underneath it isn't.
I don't know what it all amounts to, but it's a pleasure to be in the presence of "The Skin I Live In," from those sparkling surfaces to Alberto Iglesias's candy-colored score for strings, piano, synthesizers, organ, harp, sax and muted trumpet -- like space-age bachelor-pad horror movie music.
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I haven't seen this one, but what I've read about it also reminds me of Teshigihara's "The Face of Another." Actually, I like that film better than his "Women in the Dunes." But I saw the extended Director's cut of "WITD" -- so at almost 2 1/2 hours -- it did seem darned long. Maybe the shorter cut is actually better???? I may avoid this film of Almodovar's -- I read it has a certain crime (like in "Straw Dogs") that I really can't bear to watch in movies, especially after someone told me about a brutal form of that happening to her. Once you learn about something like that on a personal level -- it changes everything.
It's twisted, ludicrous but as engaging and entertaining as any Almodovar movie. Loved it.
This is probably the most twisted movie he has done, and that's saying something.
After seeing the film, I wandered the internet for a bit and found this trailer for a different film, 'Victim': http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFft8vTJ68s- spoilers for those who haven't seen Almodovar's film, since this trailer's a lot less coy about the (almost exact same) plot. I thought it was curious that, on the basis of the trailer, I would never have any interest in seeing Victim while (knowing what I know) I would definitely see TSILI again. Is it a matter of style, the allure of a foreign language arthouse film (as opposed to American torture-porn) or something else?
Absolutely loved the movie. I had a weird DePalma vibe for a long time while watching it, especially with all those shots of 'surveillance cameras' in the first half.
The references to Eyes Without a Face are really the most evident ones I've seen in quite a while, though. Banderas's entrance in his manor at the start of the movie, for instance, is almost a shot by shot remake of the one at the start of EWAF.
>>> This is probably the most twisted movie he has done, and that's saying something.
I think part of what makes Almodovar so brilliant is that he can take plots and storylines that seem bizarre or absurd and make them seem totally sensible in the context of the film.
I thought this one was a lot simpler than most of his films (perhaps because it was based on an novel and not his own ideas?), but filmed with such beauty. Almodovar's films are such a pleasure for the eyes and ears, but for the mind, too. As the plot reveals itself it becomes quite clear what's going on--and what's going to happen--but it's no less pleasurable than some of his other films which were far more unpredictable.
But my question: who is the protagonist? Is it Dr. Ledgard or Vera?
Good question -- and one that Almodovar definitely wants you to keep asking yourself throughout the movie! At first you think it's the Doc, but the more you find out about him...
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