Movies

"The Skin I Live In"

By October 11, 2011No Comments

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  • Nice review.
    This is the first Almodovar I’ve liked in years. Usually he’s too glib for his own good. But the twists and turns in this one are right up there with “The Saragossa Manuscript” and “Three Crowns of the Sailor”. What tickles me most about the film is the whole ques­tion of “spoil­ers” gets thrown out the win­dow, cause it would take far too long for any crit­ic to relate the plot in a standard-szied, or even lengthy review – espe­cially when we get to the third act. In a way it’s “spoil­er­sproof.”

  • Asher says:

    For those who like spoil­ers in their reviews, there’s Reverse Shot’s, which pans it (as does Slant, as does Time Out):
    http://www.reverseshot.com/article/skin_i_live

  • Glenn Kenny says:

    Wow, I think pretty highly of Michael Koretsky, so I’m a little dis­turbed to see him strik­ing such a self-righteous pose before let­ting loose in the Reverse Shot notice. Obviously I don’t agree with him. Nor do I agree with Mr. Rothkopf, but I’m find­ing that while Joshua is a con­geni­al neigh­bor and all that, we increas­ingly have less and less in com­mon with respect to aes­thet­ic con­cerns. The objec­tions I take most ser­i­ously are Ed Gonzales’, but again, I obvi­ously don’t see the film in quite the same way. Seeing it again tonight, will be inter­ested in the audi­ence reaction.

  • Graig says:

    I don’t drink any­more, but I have a hunch that if you ever got me drunk and asked me who the greatest liv­ing film­maker is/was, I’d say Almodovar. Even though he’s not neces­sar­ily my per­son­al favor­ite guy, or even in my top five, if you look at his out­put the last ten, fif­teen years – ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER, TALK TO HER, BAD EDUCATION, VOLVER, BROKEN EMBRACES, and now this – is there anoth­er guy cur­rently work­ing who both writes and dir­ects with such a con­sist­ent record of triples and homers to his name?

  • Adored this film, Glenn, and so happy to read your review.
    What I find so fas­cin­at­ing is not what he bor­rows from – Les Yeux San Visage, of course, but also Rear Window, Vertigo, a couple of giallo films and, I’d argue, a totally per­verse read­ing of Now Voyager – but how he makes it his own.
    It’s not hard to quote from oth­er films; some dir­ect­ors have made entire careers on it. But to then infuse that with your own obses­sions (power, gender iden­tity, female suf­fer­ing and sur­viv­al) and style (vibrant col­ors, sinu­ous cam­era move­ments, eclect­ic music)is truly won­der­ful – like a great jazz artist pick­ing up a pop song and turn­ing it inside out (while hon­or­ing it all the time).
    Like you, at times I wondered, “Is he really going to go there?” (“Old Boy,” for some reas­on, was the taboo-busting step I thought he was going to take) and all I’ll say is Señor Almodvoar nev­er did what I thought he was going to do, and nev­er disappointed.
    What a great film. The luke­warm reac­tion from some quar­ters truly puzzles me..

  • Lex says:

    Yeah, but, Glenn, did you bring your head shot to the screen­ing? Make sure you mail Almodovar your HEAD SHOT!
    Pesci Voice: “What the fuck kinda people are they?”
    (Sorry, ref­er­ence from Elsewhere, but some dude’s taunt that Glenn goes to screen­ings push­ing his HEAD SHOT on unsus­pect­ing film­makers is for some reas­on the Comedy Image of the Week for me.)

  • Brian Dauth says:

    Great review Glenn. You are spot on when you say that his films are cel­eb­ra­tions of life. The oth­er review­ers seem to dis­like the fact that Almodovar did not provide them with a tra­gi­com­ic approach to the mater­i­al or a nar­rat­ive struc­ture they prefer. Yet a film about the fluid­ity of gender expression/sexual desire/sex seems an ideal place to employ a pre­cari­ous nar­rat­ive since those cat­egor­ies are pre­cari­ous social constructs.
    Almodovar cer­tainly queered his sources, allow­ing them to bump up against each oth­er with eleg­antly con­trolled aban­don. But he provides no con­ven­tion­al char­ac­ter to identi­fy with and root for and watch pro­gress. Almodovar’s way of telling a story feels very close to the way my life and the lives of many queers I know have pro­gressed – I got to M without hav­ing first done G, H, & I. He even starts the film with an allu­sion to VERTIGO plucked from the cen­ter of the earli­er film.
    I think TSILI achieves a great deal of poignancy, but takes an idio­syn­crat­ic route to get there – the gender­fuck high­way as ima­gined by a severely lux­uri­ous maker of images and tell­er of stories.

  • Asher says:

    This isn’t what I took from the reviews I men­tioned, which, while they do com­plain about the nar­rat­ive struc­ture, do so only by way of say­ing Almodovar’s treat­ment of his themes is (a) too dis­tanced, (b) not “queered” enough. For example, see Koretsky’s fault­ing “the film’s trans­ition from a poten­tially pen­et­rat­ive look at the shifti­ness of sexu­al iden­tity and the inab­il­ity of our phys­ic­al beings to fully reflect that iden­tity, to a sur­pris­ingly hetero-centric Almodóvarian tchotch­ke, com­plete with Eames-meets-Gilliam interi­or design and plenty of revolvers hid­den in handbags.”

  • Brian Dauth says:

    @ Asher: Among my ques­tions would be how can one determ­ine that Almodovar’s treat­ment of his themes is too dis­tanced? Is there a norm­at­ive scale to be referred to? I agree that Almodovar does endeavor to dis­tance his audi­ence, but this approach is neither a good nor bad thing. It is just a fact about the film – like say­ing the movie is 117 minutes long.
    When Michael Koretsky writes that “what could have been an inex­or­able, tra­gi­com­ic study of a viol­ently furi­ous and gen­der­less love instead becomes a point­less, mean­der­ing shell game played on the audi­ence,” I see a crit­ic who wanted Almodovar to fol­low a dif­fer­ent path and is dis­ap­poin­ted that he did not. But the tra­gi­com­ic has nev­er been Almodovar’s forte, so com­plain­ing about where he is not going in this movie strikes me as being akin to fault­ing an Italian res­taur­ant for not serving sushi. Surfaces are very import­ant to Almodovar, and he imbues them with a pro­found com­plex­ity and capa­city for engage­ment. When he adds: “I refuse to dance around The Skin I Live In, which in some alternate-reality cut could have been a touch­ingly tor­tured pas de deux rather than just a tor­tu­ous labyrinth,” I feel he is say­ing (again) that the work presen­ted to him is not to his taste and he will not engage it (which, of course, is his right). But the feel­ing of tor­tu­ous­ness might ori­gin­ate in him and not the movie; I agree that the film is a labyrinth, but a sen­su­ous and seduct­ive one – no tor­ture felt here.
    Additionally, isn’t part of a critic’s work to engage with art­works on the work’s terms as well as her own at the same time? For example, I do not very much care for TREE OF LIFE, but I also recog­nize that Malick is work­ing on a wavelength that I am not par­tic­u­larly amen­able to. So while the film fails for me, I recog­nize the pos­sib­il­ity of it suc­ceed­ing (and how this might occur) for anoth­er spec­tat­or based on the pos­i­tion from which he engages it. It seems clear that Koretsky dis­likes where Almodovar goes with his mater­i­al, but I am not at all con­vinced that the places Almodovar goes are as for­saken as Koretsky makes them out to be (though he cer­tainly exper­i­ences them as for­saken). From the close of his review: “And just when Almodovar seems to be reach­ing a moment of sen­ti­ment­al clar­ity in the final scene — in which the whole con­vo­luted thing appears to be tastily redu­cing down to a finely simmered women’s weepie — he shoots him­self in the foot, abruptly fad­ing to cred­its just before the most dif­fi­cult emo­tions would neces­sar­ily burst forth.” Which seems to me an appro­pri­ate end point for TSILI. The burst­ing forth of the emo­tions can be the sub­ject of the next film.
    As for things being queered enough – TSILI was plenty queer for me, but again – Almodovar’s dis­tanced hol­low­ing of his mater­i­al is an aes­thet­ic prac­tice I respond to deeply and eas­ily. His queer­ing moves art from a ver­tic­al to a lat­er­al plane (the final shot of Van Sant’s PSYCHO vs. the one in Hitchcock’s PSYCHO is anoth­er example of the same type of queer­ing). A crit­ic can prefer the ver­tic­al to the lat­er­al, but a ver­tic­al work is no great­er or less­er than a lat­er­al one.
    Lastly, I am happy to advoc­ate for a revolver in every hand­bag and an Eames chair in every home.

  • lipranzer says:

    I apo­lo­gize if the fol­low­ing sounds glib, but I still haven’t pro­cessed the movie quite yet; this is without a doubt the most bat­shit crazy movie I’ve seen this year, but I still haven’t quite decided if that’s a good thing or not (lean­ing towards the good, though).

  • MattL says:

    Any reas­on I am unable to access the MSN site without a pass­word? I’d like to read the review. I did­n’t much like the movie and think it is Almodovar’s weak­est since Kika. But would like to read your review.

  • Glenn Kenny says:

    Don’t know what to tell you, MattL, the links work as they should for me from both a com­puter and my mobile device, no pass­word prompts or any such thing. Maybe you can try access­ing via Google or a Rotten Tomatoes link.

  • MattL: I had exactly the same prob­lem access­ing MSN Movies on Safari, but it seems to work fine on Chrome. See if switch­ing browsers helps.

  • MattL says:

    I’m on Firefox and attempt­ing to access right from the link here on the blog. But I was able to access the link via Safari and read the review. Don’t agree with the review but glad to read it.
    One issue I had with the film is the slow build up of the first half. Maybe I’m just get­ting too used to old 30’s WB films but I kept want­ing him to cut to the chase. I DID under­stand – ulti­mately – why he chose to show us two rape scenes and have a flash­back with­in a flash­back. At first I thought they were all wrong but it made sense by the end. Still, I just found the film did­n’t engage me as a story or cine­mat­ic­ally the way his past few films have.
    But the second half is bet­ter than the first and made the movie worth a look.

  • Asher says:

    So I saw it, and I have to admit that I have nev­er been left so cold by a film in my life, or seen an ostens­ibly “crazy” film that I found so utterly detached, unpro­voc­at­ive and thor­oughly sane. I have no idea what the crit­ics were talk­ing about with the frac­tured or labyrinth­ine nar­rat­ive; it’s hardly more frac­tured or dif­fi­cult than Vertigo. Nor did I think the reveal was unne­ces­sar­ily fore­stalled; it hap­pens with plenty of time for its implic­a­tions to sink in. But dis­tanced – my good­ness yes. Parts felt like an Architectural Digest spe­cial: “Having A Gorgeous Operating Room In Your House – the New Hot Trend.” Another big theme I picked up on was that white BMW’s, in the right mod­el, are really snazzy. As is Antonio Banderas with his hair slicked back at all hours of the day. A shot here and there of a man gaz­ing at a woman on a closed-circuit mon­it­or does not a study of obses­sion make. To me it was less Vertigo or Eyes Without a Face than a de-camped ver­sion of Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte.

  • Tom Russell says:

    Does HUSH HUSH SWEET CHARLOTTE qual­i­fy as “camp”? I mean, BABY JANE, and most oth­er psy­cho­biddy films– WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH HELEN?, AUNT ALICE, AUNTIE ROO– yes, it’s super-camp, won­der­fully so, but for me CHARLOTTE was always some­thing very dif­fer­ent: sad­der, scar­i­er (legit­im­ately so), drip­ping with atmo­sphere and decay. Something like HELEN is mostly of interest for its grot­esque pre-Toddlers & Tiaras pageantry, reli­gious mania, and repressed les­bi­an­ism– but CHARLOTTE nev­er seemed as trashy or campy to me, HUSH HUSH SWEET CHARLOTTE always seemed like a great, no-apologies film to be taken seriously.
    Maybe that’s just me, though.

  • Brian Dauth says:

    @Asher: TSILI is def­in­itely a cold film – the intens­ity of its cold­ness is part of its great­ness. In his career, Almodovar has demon­strated how queer­ing a text can lead to heat (A BAD EDUCATION) or cold­ness (TSILI). A cold art work may not be to every view­er­’s taste, but icy pre­ci­sion can lead to the warmest of aes­thet­ic exper­i­ences, e.g., THE DEVIL IS A WOMAN. I think one of Almodovar’s points is that a “shot here and there of a man gaz­ing at a woman on a closed-circuit mon­it­or” can, in fact, a study of obses­sion make (espe­cially when the images that sur­round these shots are the ones Almodovar sup­plies here). There are more ways to express obses­sion than the Romantic approach of hav­ing an art work go obses­sion­al in tech­nique to con­vey obses­sion. A view­er can prefer this famil­i­ar, if over­used, approach, but it is only one path among many.
    @Tom: Finally, someone who shares my love for HUSH, HUSH! From a teen­ager in New York watch­ing it on the 4:30 Movie on Channel 7, I thought it was a great film and bet­ter than BABY JANE by a coun­try mile. Nothing campy about the movie what­so­ever (except maybe if viewed through the Sontagian anti-gay sense of the term “camp” as the product of “failed seriousness”).