The Skin I Live In

 

3 Stars

Part of the payoff of the new Pedro Almodovar movie, "The Skin I Live In," comes in seeing Antonio Banderas reunite, after two decades, with the director whose flamboyant black comedies launched Banderas into stardom.

The last film they made together was "Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!" In "The Skin I Live In," despite its psychosexual figure eights and risky medical procedures, Banderas keeps a tight seal on his usual ebullience, anchoring with a meticulously straight face some grotesque business.

The film is an exercise in improbable contrasts. The more extreme the actions of the characters, the more contained and fastidious the director's technique.

I didn't really get either the tone or the intentions of Almodovar's latest melodrama the first time I saw it. A second viewing, though, acts as a reminder that craftsmanship should never be taken lightly, or -- in this slovenly age -- for granted.

"The Skin I Live In" shaves down the rougher corners of "Tarantula," the novel by Thierry Jonquet. Banderas plays a formidable plastic surgeon whose wife died in an auto accident. In the years since, Dr. Ledgard has pushed the boundaries of cellular therapy in the hopes of creating new skin for his patients. In his home laboratory, he keeps a close eye on his most cherished case, a beautiful young woman (Elena Anaya) imprisoned while she recovers from unspecified treatments. Who is she? Who, for that matter, is the grown man (Roberto Alamo) in the tiger costume who shows up at the doctor's gate, claiming to be the son of Ledgard's faithful housekeeper (Marisa Paredes)?

Brazenly, Almodovar leaves much of this dangling for an extended "six years earlier" flashback, introducing a separate set of characters, including a dressmaker's son (Jan Cornet) and Ledgard's psychologically unstable daughter (Blanca Suarez). When the movie jumps back to the present ("back to the present," announces a title card), it's as if Almodovar had wondered out loud: Think they'll buy it? When the key surprise is sprung in "The Skin I Live In," it's with the sort of confidence Shakespeare brought to his later, darker fairy tales classified as "romances" but not romantic in the usual sense.

Banderas himself has described the script as a cross between Shakespeare and "a cheap Mexican soap opera." Other influences run through this film's bloodstream, notably the 1960 Georges Franju film "Eyes Without a Face," with which Almodovar's latest shares a devotion to the sort of facial surgery not covered by the average health plan. As with Martin Scorsese and "Shutter Island," "The Skin I Live In" finds Almodovar at the service of a -- frankly -- gimmicky narrative. But compared with Scorsese's florid technique, Almodovar's restraint has its virtues.

The most valuable collaborator for Almodovar remains his composer, Alberto Iglesias, whose facility with old-school Hollywood strings and jazzier, percussive touches wraps everything in silk. And cinematographer Jose Luis Alcaine's gorgeous, burnished palette elevates the basic "mad scientist" setup to a comfortable realm of elegance. I prefer most of Almodovar's recent excursions to this one; in some ways "Skin" doesn't feel like an Almodovar film. But at one point, a major character's dungeon lair is revealed. It's the most attractively lighted creepy cellar in film history. And then you remember who's in charge.

 

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"The Skin I Live In" Movie Trailer

 

MPAA rating: R (for disturbing violent content including sexual assault, strong sexuality, graphic nudity, drug use and language).

Running time: 1:57.

Cast: Antonio Banderas (Dr. Ledgard); Elena Anaya (Vera); Marisa Paredes (Marilia); Jan Cornet (Vicente); Roberto Alamo (Zeca); Blanca Suarez (Norma).

Credits: Directed by Pedro Almodovar; written by Pedro Almodovar and Agustin Almodovar, based on the novel "Tarantula" by Thierry Jonquet; produced by Agustin Almodovar and Esther Garcia. A Sony Pictures Classics release.

 

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