Pedro Almodovar's The Skin I Live In is like a great big beautiful blossom slowly revealing itself to be a bloody gorgeous flower - but beware the thorns, they are dripping with venom .With nods to everyone from Hitchcock, to Ed Wood Jr, The Skin I Live In tells the tale of a scientist who recently lost his wife and daughter. Played by Antonio Banderas, Robert Ledgard is a man obsessed (and quite possibly out of his fucking mind). To the outside world he is a genius working on creating synthetic skin that would benefit burn victims, in real life, he is the quintessential mad scientist, hell bent on a single task. The good doctor even has his "Igor" in the guise of his housekeeper (Marisa Paredes) a smart, seemingly obliging employee, the housekeeper has some personal luggage of her own and...well, you are going to have to watch the film to learn about that.
For those of you unfamiliar with Almodovar's work - prepare yourself. His films are lush, manic, sexual, poetic, and often, darkly humorous. The Skin I Live In is no exception. The whole tone of this movie is somewhat absurdist, and yet, because of that, the sadistic horror that lies at the center of the story is such a terrifying revelation that it outdoes anything seen in American thrillers in ages.
Family secrets, obsession, science gone awry, murder, mayhem and a nod to Frankenstein ; The Skin I Live In is a heady brew that leaves the viewer feeling like they were lead through a garden of unearthly delights only to discover that aforementioned blossom - just take heed of my earlier warning, this flower has some deadly thorns.