The Skin I Live In

This film is mildly recommended.

Pedro Almodovar's latest offering, The Skin I Live In, continues his directorial trademark of vivid primary colors and graphic patterns, interesting photographic perspectives, hyperbolic narratives that border on Telemundo soap opera excesses, and such flourish and visual élan that only enhance his unique personal style. This talented director heavily borrows from other inspirational sources like Hitchcock's Vertigo, a little known British film by William Wyler called The Collector, and classic literature like Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Although this time, Almodovar's film incorporates more horror and sci-fi elements into his mix of ongoing themes that are usually found in his body of work. His themes still boldly emphasize the sexual eroticism between men and women and the consequences of their actions. Only in The Skin I Live In, the execution is a bit heavy-handed and stylistically overdone in its melodramatic approach. It never seems to quite come together.

Almodovar assembles his patchwork story to tell the tale of Dr. Robert Ledgard ( Antonio Banderas, in a demanding and challenging role), a famous plastic surgeon who seems to have come undone with the recent tragic death of his beautiful wife, the victim of a fiery car crash. Obsessed with perfecting a synthetic skin that can withstand any damage, Ledgrad soon focuses on a new patient at his private clinic, Vera Cruz ( Elena Anaya, alluring and effective ). Vera becomes his consuming passion, his crusade, and his substitute for his lost love. While his research continues and the good doctor makes scientific breakthroughs with resilient skin replacements, the medical establishment becomes horrified and question the ethics of such a process. So does his long-time housekeeper, Marilia ( Marisa Paredes ), and Vera herself.

To say anymore about the plot could spoil the film's many twists and turns in a convoluted screenplay written by the director, a script that interweaves past and present events to fill out the mystery and the resulting tension of the doctor's fixation. The introduction of some minor characters and their collective scenes do nothing to augment the plot which seems a bit muddled in its editing structure as the film slowly unravels the mystery between the doctor and his patient. Major exposition of some of the characters' motives and necessary medical treatments remain unexplained and rather vague and illogical.

Still, the film shows a darkly ominous view of compulsion and addiction in intriguing ways. Almodovar's depiction of sexual acts is again totally hypnotic and frank in its presentation and he directs his actors well enough to avoid embarrassment as the characters become more unpleasant and the film's plot becomes more ludicrous and outlandish with every new reveal.

The Skin I Live In wants to be seen as a serious film about obsession, revenge, and the use of power to control the human condition. Yet underneath all of its surface treatment and glossy veneer, there remains a simplistic story that is in need of more depth, substance, and a little common sense. GRADE: B-

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