I think there is no director who has a better sense of space and color than Almodóvar and his talents in those areas are on display in this movie which is a slick variation on old horror films. Dr. Robert Ledgard, a surgeon and biologist, has suffered the loss of his wife to a fiery auto accident and he invents an artificial skin that is flame resistant. He uses his invention to mold a person to meet the personal goal of trying to recreate his wife. Is Ledgard not compatible in spirit with Victor Frankenstein?
The story is convoluted, moving back and forth between past and present. There are a number of red herrings tossed in just to confuse. And there are scenes that seem to be in just because they appealed to Almodóvar and he did not know what to do with them, like two nightclub numbers performed by Concha Buika.
Several topics are handled with almost clinical detachment, like cloning, growing skin, and surgery. This is not to say that the presentation is without fascination. The more I got to know Ledgard the less I cared for him, or about him. I could connect with poor Vincent, the unwilling victim of a sex change operation, but the contemplation of that makes for some uncomfortable reflections.
This is the first I had seen Antonio Banderas and I thought he was well cast. He reminded me of some stars of previous generations, like Clark Gable. Elena Anaya did not get to be where she is on her beauty alone; she has an expressive face and a lithe body. When she was running around the house she had the grace and quick reflexes of a feral cat.
Particularly impressive is the score which artfully enhanced the experience. I was expecting to see that much of the music was composed by someone of the stature of Shostakovitch or Ligeti, but no, it was the contemporary Spanish composer Alberto Iglesias. I salute him.
I was able to appreciate the artistic flourishes but remained detached from the proceedings.
The story is convoluted, moving back and forth between past and present. There are a number of red herrings tossed in just to confuse. And there are scenes that seem to be in just because they appealed to Almodóvar and he did not know what to do with them, like two nightclub numbers performed by Concha Buika.
Several topics are handled with almost clinical detachment, like cloning, growing skin, and surgery. This is not to say that the presentation is without fascination. The more I got to know Ledgard the less I cared for him, or about him. I could connect with poor Vincent, the unwilling victim of a sex change operation, but the contemplation of that makes for some uncomfortable reflections.
This is the first I had seen Antonio Banderas and I thought he was well cast. He reminded me of some stars of previous generations, like Clark Gable. Elena Anaya did not get to be where she is on her beauty alone; she has an expressive face and a lithe body. When she was running around the house she had the grace and quick reflexes of a feral cat.
Particularly impressive is the score which artfully enhanced the experience. I was expecting to see that much of the music was composed by someone of the stature of Shostakovitch or Ligeti, but no, it was the contemporary Spanish composer Alberto Iglesias. I salute him.
I was able to appreciate the artistic flourishes but remained detached from the proceedings.