In In the Skin I Live In, Banderas plays Robert Ledgard, a brilliant surgeon who has developed a synthetic skin that can withstand injury. Seems like an interesting concept that was born from the grief of losing his wife in a fiery car accident. But, there’s way, way more to it, beginning with the woman/guinea pig he keeps in a sealed room in his mansion and monitors on a giant screen. She’s beautiful and mysterious and practically mummified in the aforementioned faux skin, leaving us dying to figure out who the heck she is.
Ah, but be careful what you wish for. As the story begins to unfold, we discover that Ledgard is actually a mad scientist who is tortured by a series of traumatic events that turned him into a sadistic monster. That it’s all in Spanish somehow makes it more sensuous and sinister, which raises the creepy factor to almost unbearable levels.
I kid you not, I had to run to get groceries from WalMart after the screening (I know, glamorous, right?), and I found myself nervously checking out seemingly normal people to see if I could figure out which of them might have similarly twisted, sociopathic secret lives. The movie obviously made an impression on me, at the very least. So, kudos for that!
It’s certainly not for mainstream audiences, but I certainly applaud Antonio Banderas for a bold and convincing departure from the mainstream, and celebrated Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar for delivering a unique, albeit demented, movie experience.
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