Every now and again what is essentially
an art film escapes from the wild and finds its way to the local multiplex, the
metaphorical flower growing in the cracks of the city sidewalk. Its existence
is just as perilous as that metaphorical blossoming, remaining in bloom only
for a short time before the realities of its situation trample it out of being.
Under the Skin is exactly that sort of film, having appeared in one local
theater to no fanfare (it wasn’t even announced as being there early enough to
be placed on last week’s “On the Marquee”), while remaining utterly essential
viewing for anyone interested in spending time on the magnificently unsettling
wavelength it creates. Featuring career-best work from lead actress Scarlett
Johansson and writer/director Jonathan Glazer (who also crafted the Nicole
Kidman vehicle Birth and the brilliant Ben Kingsley-led Sexy Beast), Under the
Skin takes what is a pretty straightforward premise through several levels of
obfuscation that mask its linear qualities through masterfully opaque sound
design and a steadfast lack of expository hand-holding.
You are placed off-balance from the word “go”
with an opening sequence that overlays a soundtrack of dissonant sound and
incoherent human mumbling over a series of abstract images before finally
settling on a massive close-up of an eyeball. This method of measured
revelation (like thick fog rolling off the countryside or windshield wipers
fighting valiantly against torrential downpour), lets the series of events that
comprise the film play out without any of the traditional methods by which we
would determine meaning. A female body is pulled from the woods by a man on a
motorcycle, and her clothes (identity?) are taken by a fully nude female in a
room that appears to be an endless white void. This woman then combs the
Scottish countryside looking for drifters who can’t resist her siren call and subsequently
follow her into another physically impossible room – rinse, wash, repeat until
we find ourselves once again in the woods with a female body for the film’s
terrifying climax.
It has been nine years since Glazer last
made a motion picture, and one could be forgiven for imagining him spending
that entire time allowing this bizarre and unique work to incubate before it
could be put into the world, the extended creative toll of bringing such a
vision to life. No film this year has managed such a sustained note of unease
through entirely cinematic means, combining sound and image in such a way that
I could not look away while also feeling utterly terrified of where the movie
would take me next. ‘Kubrickian’ is a term that has oft been used in describing
the visual language being deployed here, but I feel that shortchanges the work
Glazer puts in here. While the film does feature a litany of enervating
tracking shots in the key of the master, I don’t think Kubrick would’ve allowed
the thinly organized chaos that comprise Skin’s more banal moments, wherein
Glazer uses the visual language of reality TV (hidden cameras that allow for
real, stilted conversations between Johansson and incomprehensible Scottish
gentlemen) to create a faux-verite style in direct contrast to the finely
crafted and immaculately framed sequences that bracket them. Glazer’s hand is
so steady in creating this world and enveloping you within it, one hopes he
doesn’t wait another decade to allow us access to his cinematically gifted
mind.
A decision is eventually made that shifts
the perspective of both character and viewer during the final third of this
picture, and with this shift comes clarity of purpose for the film to its
viewers. Johansson’s performance is a marvelously blank, never betraying the
extraordinary circumstances from which her character is produced, so the shift
is almost imperceptible on initial viewing but it is there nonetheless. The
film’s title hints at what we’re meant to explore here. The film doesn’t make
any broad gestures toward thematic coherence as it examines identity, gender
and gender identity. Instead it
finds content to allow the viewers to determine meaning for themselves,
although the ultimate destination for the men and woman of this picture paint a
bleakly-horrifying picture. Under the Skin is certainly not for everyone (the
word I’ve received anecdotally of walk-outs from local screenings so far bear
this out). The film is filled with full-on nudity both male and female, and the
film’s lack of desire to explain itself will prove antithetical to the
filmmaking mainstream audiences are accustomed to. But if you allow the film to
burrow itself exactly where the title indicates, you will see no more
impressive a vision this year.
Under the Skin plays Thursday at the
Marcus Ridge @ 2:25 p.m., 5:05 p.m., 7:45 p.m., 10:25 p.m. and has my highest
recommendation.
