The Skin I Live In is possibly one of the most shocking movies I've ever seen. But not only shocking in the sense of its material, but the fact that I really didn't see it coming. The real kind of shock. I knew a vague synopsis of a surgeon, experimenting on some young woman to create perfect skin. So what I got when I actually watched was so unexpected, and, to fully boast its genre, thrilling.
It should be made clear now that this film incorporates non-linear narrative, which makes initial grasp of the plot a little tricky, but uses the effect to drop plot-bombshells where needed, and very successfully indeed. Until the final minutes, I was still piecing the segments together in my mind, to come to the final realisation. It shouldn't take two viewings to understand this film and the unimaginable horror it entails.
Prolific surgeon Robert Ledgard uses his home as his clinic, along with several colleagues, after the traumatic accident and eventual death of his horribly burned wife, he obsessively pores over creating a new, tougher human skin, resistant to burns, cuts, any damage at all. With the help of his live-in subject/prisoner Vera, he realises miraculous scientific breakthrough, but breaks every professional rule in the process. The initial torment is Robert's relationship with Vera. He locks her in her beautiful room, watches her on a TV monitor, and treats her to opium when she's a good girl. He even sleeps with her the very night she is raped by a mysterious, tiger-costumed intruder.
Robert seems selfish and driven, and without sympathy. Another trauma in his past leads him to kidnap a young man, Vicente, and exact revenge on him. This revenge takes one shocking form after another, leading to a dramatic finale in which all ends are tied, and some serious questions need answering when Vicente finally gets back to his mother, and his dress shop.This scene is so nicely done. I was dreading right until the last second that the vile nature of Vicente's ordeal would not be revealed, but he would instead never speak of it, as so many victims seem to do in movies. I feel it is alright to describe this, as the 'vile nature of his ordeal' has been left a mystery. It has to be this way. Every viewer should know the ignorant bliss I did, and feel the full pelt of the thrills as they hit them.
A nice touch to this movie is the lack of unnecessarily graphic surgical procedure. Movies of this nature tend to take full advantage of 'obligatory' gore, but this remains rather as it would to a patient: clean, sterile and doped up. The real horror is in the situation. It is truly what the most twisted nightmares are made of.
Antonio Banderas is as wonderful as ever, finding a darkness even the most loving admirer couldn't ignore. It's nice to hear him speaking his native Spanish too. However, I read on his Wikipedia page that his wife Melanie Griffith's string of cosmetic procedures is the only real problem in their marriage, and that he has banned her from ever seeing a surgeon again. I might respectfully suggest then that the lovely Antonio avoid story-lines like these, and sex scenes with young, lovely actresses. It would be a shame to lack his splendor, but I could understand his wife's frustration!
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