‘Under the Skin’ Review

When she’s not kicking ass as Black Widow in the Marvelverse, Scarlett Johansson is raising her “acting cred” by appearing in critically acclaimed (and bizarre) indie films like Her and this month’s Under the Skin. The latter of which is by far the more bizarre and more puzzling why it’s getting so much buzz. But then I’m not one for moody, surreal films that have little to no plot (see also: last year’s buzzy Upstream Color).

[Spoiler Alerts of a sort follow. For those who wish to know nothing going into the film (which is probably how Glazer would like it), skip to the final paragraph or just go see the film and form your own opinions about it.]

Under the Skin begins with some ocular imagery that has apparently no bearing on the rest of the film, other than to remind you of similar symbolism in Kubrick’s films. The film then goes on to “introduce” its two main, nameless characters (everyone in the film is nameless): One is the female character played by Scarlett Johansson who is some form of alien that has taken on the body of a human girl, and the other is a male biker (also, presumably alien) who has procured the body for Johansson.

His purpose, it seems, is to keep an eye on Johansson, who has the far more intriguing purpose on Earth. She drives around in a white van picking up lonely men off the side of the road (They aren’t technically hitchhikers since it’s always her convincing them to get into her van), chats up the men ,and manages to get some of them to actually come home with her (thanks to her sheer sexual magnetism, despite the fact that she lacks all emotion).

Her home is a dark, dreary, isolated building. She leads the men inside and takes them to some black, reflective room where she strips naked, thereby encouraging them to follow suit. Once naked, the men continue walking after her, but they slowly sink into a pool of “water,” where they disappear forever. In one scene, we get to “see” what happens to them down there, but it’s as oblique a revelation as anything else in this film.

Of course, the real meat of the film occurs when Johansson has an identity crisis midway through. She doesn’t sacrifice her man meat to the black ooze but instead sets him free. Now, lacking a purpose, she wanders around Scotland, learning about her human body. Meanwhile, the biker tracks down the man she set free and disposes of him before setting off to find the wayward alien.

That’s the gist of the “plot” of the film, but Under the Skin wasn’t made to propel a plot. As for what it was made to do, I can only guess. Jonathan Glazer has spent the last 15 years making increasingly bizarre and image-driven films—from 2000’s Sexy Beast to 2004’s Birth. And Under the Skin is no different, except perhaps just more bizarre.

Under the Skin is based on the novel by Michel Faber. In it’s Wikipedia entry, it has a clearer, more concise plot than anything depicted in the film. While it could be argued that Glazer and Walter Campbell (who wrote the screenplay) just couldn’t find a way to adapt Faber’s writing, it seems to go beyond that. Skin is a purposefully vague, stylized film that forces the viewers to discover for themselves what the hell is going on. Sometimes that works really well for a film, other times it leaves viewers wanting at least a few more answers (I, certainly, could’ve used a little less style and a little more substance). So, approach the film with caution and a very open mind.

Rating

C

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