The Skin I Live In

Pedro Almodóvar, a rebel who sowed his wild oats long ago and who emerged from the Madrid underground into the festival sunlight, allowed himself to be a bit more eccentric than in his previous film, this time taking literally Barbara Creed’s idea (from the book The Monstrous-Feminine) about women as horror-movie monsters.  As befits a post-modern artist, few things are unambiguous, least of all who will ultimately win this multi-genre battle of (with) the sexes. The Skin I Live In is an excellent example of an open text. Some questions are left without answers, while others are answered with such straightforwardness that they raise suspicion. The film veers from the serious topics of voyeurism and self-identification to shallow viewer attractions known from Italian giallo films (whose visual opulence Almodóvar’s work always most closely resembles). The narrative is much more muted than the characters’ behaviour and, as a whole, The Skin I Live In comes across as surprisingly balanced and coherent, without room for truly disturbing content, which is also due to the “gentle” transitions between scenes of radically different content and the relaxed pace of the narrative. Unfortunately, there is also no room for enabling us to delve into the characters in order to determine who deserves to suffer and how much they deserve it. It remains up to us who we will feel sorry for, which can be part of a game without clear rules. But it doesn’t have to be. 80% (12/10/2012)

An exploitation horror premise in the hands of an arthouse director. The result is a remarkable film that took me from mild cringe to absolute enthusiasm. Beautifully shot, very smart in the way it doses the information (for a moment I was afraid that what was clear already from the middle of the movie would be revealed as a shocking twist by the end, but Almodóvar fortunately doesn’t underestimate his audience), and arousing a whole range of emotions. It’s been long since I saw a film where genres alternate and blend so smoothly and lightly. From The Skin I Live In you could easily cut a trailer for horror, comedy, drama, science fiction and even a romantic film, and I’m sure it won’t take long for something like that to appear on YouTube. PS: If you want to watch an underground horror take of the same premise, have a go at Victim, but not before watching The Skin I Live In, otherwise you’ll ruin the experience). (09/09/2011)

"The Skin I Live In" is definitely not a typical Almodóvar film, but it fits into his filmography. This is due to the excellent performances that are sometimes even surreal, which is influenced by the nature of the story itself. This is definitely something that will not leave you indifferent, and you will keep thinking about it. This film definitely deserves it because there are scenes that you will carry in your mind and you won't be able to forget them – like the guy in the tiger costume. (09/11/2013)

I used to love Pedro Almodóvar's work. Nowadays my interest in his films has waned somewhat, but I do occasionally watch something. The Skin I Live In has a well-written script, which puts the film on par with Almodóvar's best work. However, the subject matter is so controversial and the central idea so difficult for me to stomach that I can hardly imagine myself ever resorting to watching it again in the future. (75%) (08/01/2021)

The psychologically powerful and excitably deviant theme of The Skin I Live In is rendered as emotionless, noble cinematic art. It shocks the viewers, but they are unable to relate to the story and they never become mentally unsettled by the film. What is left is “only” enthusiasm for admirable filmmaking perfectionism and elegance. Antonio Banderas is brilliant as a dark doctor without a pinch of medical or human ethics, and Elena Anaya is beautiful. The Skin I Live In is a remarkable and in some ways exceptional work. (16/10/2011)