Almodovar, for me, is a talented director who makes hits and misses. 'Talk to Her', I believe, is his best film to date; there are a couple of contenders for his worst. But 'The Skin I Live In' definitely isn't one of them.
It is an art-house horror thriller, adapted from Thierry Jonquet's novel 'Tarantula' (unread by me). The obvious source of inspiration is the French film 'Les Yeux Sans Visage', another horror film involving a mad doctor and synthetic skin. But 'The Skin I Live In' is far more than that. I won't give any details of the plot anyway, but perhaps think about that title more carefully.
When I say it is an art-house horror film - it is definitely Almodovar's own brand of 'art'. He fills his screen with deep, rich, gaudy colours - reds, blues, yellows, browns, oranges - and the disquieting, rosy shade of cream that belongs to the synthetic skin of the title. It is a visual feast.
The plot is ridiculous and somewhat trashy, but it hangs tightly together, and Almodovar has cast aside horror conventions and clichés and made something quite original. Antonio Banderas impresses in the lead as the vengeful surgeon, and the film, becoming evermore twisted as Banderas' true motives for the experiment and its full extents become clearer, is very entertaining. People left the cinema as the end credits began to roll, laughing - not in derision, but in shock.
I wonder if this will have an American remake. I can see it happening, but I hope it doesn't. Almodovar has put his own unique stamp on this, incorporating at successive turns tongue in cheek humour, disturbing brutality, psychological torture and bizarre moments of poignancy. I suppose the best compliment that can be given to the film, with this in mind, is that it works.
It is no masterpiece. It is very well acted, very well made with an interesting and pleasing aesthetic, with sharp prickles of fear and a genuinely surprising twist. It is an entertaining guilty pleasure from Almodovar. I await his next film with interest.
It is an art-house horror thriller, adapted from Thierry Jonquet's novel 'Tarantula' (unread by me). The obvious source of inspiration is the French film 'Les Yeux Sans Visage', another horror film involving a mad doctor and synthetic skin. But 'The Skin I Live In' is far more than that. I won't give any details of the plot anyway, but perhaps think about that title more carefully.
When I say it is an art-house horror film - it is definitely Almodovar's own brand of 'art'. He fills his screen with deep, rich, gaudy colours - reds, blues, yellows, browns, oranges - and the disquieting, rosy shade of cream that belongs to the synthetic skin of the title. It is a visual feast.
The plot is ridiculous and somewhat trashy, but it hangs tightly together, and Almodovar has cast aside horror conventions and clichés and made something quite original. Antonio Banderas impresses in the lead as the vengeful surgeon, and the film, becoming evermore twisted as Banderas' true motives for the experiment and its full extents become clearer, is very entertaining. People left the cinema as the end credits began to roll, laughing - not in derision, but in shock.
I wonder if this will have an American remake. I can see it happening, but I hope it doesn't. Almodovar has put his own unique stamp on this, incorporating at successive turns tongue in cheek humour, disturbing brutality, psychological torture and bizarre moments of poignancy. I suppose the best compliment that can be given to the film, with this in mind, is that it works.
It is no masterpiece. It is very well acted, very well made with an interesting and pleasing aesthetic, with sharp prickles of fear and a genuinely surprising twist. It is an entertaining guilty pleasure from Almodovar. I await his next film with interest.