With this visually and conceptually startling debut from Eduardo Casanova, the question of how John Waters and Pedro Almodóvar’s love child would fare as a filmmaker might just have been answered (high praise in queer film terms, of course). Fierce style, check. Subversive sexuality, check. Gross-out humor, check. Blown-up melodrama, check. Skins (translated from Pieles) is a pointedly shrill, singularly provocative exposé on our relationships to our bodies that will scar some minds, offend many sensibilities, and exhilarate all the rest of us.
Sparing no time for niceties, we’re thrown into the madness right away as a teary-eyed man gets crushed by the news that he’s become father to a healthy boy while opposite him in an aggressively pink room, a buck-naked old lady offers solace by going through a selection of innocently photographed “people“ from her very pink albums. Is this some kind of incarnation office...
Sparing no time for niceties, we’re thrown into the madness right away as a teary-eyed man gets crushed by the news that he’s become father to a healthy boy while opposite him in an aggressively pink room, a buck-naked old lady offers solace by going through a selection of innocently photographed “people“ from her very pink albums. Is this some kind of incarnation office...
- 2/12/2017
- by Zhuo-Ning Su
- The Film Stage
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