FILM REVIEW: The Skin I Live In

7 out of 10

Just a bit odd...

Almodovar's films are always a little strange. He has this fascination with ideas that are dark, and goes about exploring them in his leisure with seemingly casual comfort. This approach typically leaves you in a state of unease (or delight) but works in effect, often delivering unique experiences in front of the screen.

The Skin I Live In slots into his catalogue of amassed films like a lost pair of socks. His nod to the Frankenstein/Mad Scientist genre compliments his particular visions well, and you almost feel the glee in which he infuses his craft playfully into story. Without spoiling the plot too much, Banderas plays a successful plastic surgeon, who, without consent of the establishment, works on a secret project tucked away in his hillside Villa mansion. Although his motives appear honest and genuine something just doesn't add up, and as the film unfolds, you see why.

The nature of the story means that it asks its audience to suspend its disbelief quite a bit... quite a big bit in fact. Almodovar himself I don't think dwells on this, because it enables him to delve the depths he needs too. For me it lost a little bit of weight in this compromise, as the detachments cause you to pull away at the circumstances that hold the film together. The problem here, is to pick at Almodovar's semi-surreal setups is silly because its not why, and what you go for in his films. You go to see images from a mind with direct line access to thoughts we ourselves subconsciously keep covered, and there are plenty of those in this.