Ichikawa Ebizo XI in Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai
Knocking on heaven's door: Antonio Banderas and Elena Anaya in The Skin I Live In
DONALD CLARKEreports from Cannes 2011
The Skin I Live In* * * *
Directed by Pedro Almodóvar
Starring Antonio Banderas, Elena Anaya, Marisa Paredes, Jan Cornet, Roberto Álamo
THERE ARE several versions of Pedro Almodóvar, but they all exist on a spectrum that stretches from the transgressive anarchist (think Matadorand Labyrinth of Passion) to the grown-up chronicler of human frailty ( Volverand Bad Education). His latest film, playing in the main competition at Cannes, tends very much towards the former category. Sending up constant reminders of Eyes Without a Face, Georges Franju's great French horror film, The Skin I Live In – for all its pitch black themes – feels like the work of a man who has decided to fling off adult concerns and enjoy himself for a spell.
Happily, the pleasure extends to the audience. This is a twisty melodrama of the highest order.
Antonio Banderas, one of Almodóvar’s original collaborators, returns to play a plastic surgeon with a terrible secret. Now retired from practice, Dr Ledgard has developed an artificial version of skin that he has been applying to a woman imprisoned in his luxury home. She spends her days doing yoga and making feeble attempts to kill herself. He relaxes by watching her grumpily on high-definition surveillance cameras.
It would be a shame to reveal much more about the plot derived from a novel by Thierry Jonquet, but suffice to say the doctor is exacting revenge for a series of interweaved personal traumas. The Skin I Live Infeatures some reminders of the director's taste for gorgeous decadence: an orgy in a public place has the unsettling feel of a heavily drugged reverie; a house-invading thug comes dressed as a leopard.
But, for the most part, Almodóvar offers us a class of tastefully lit, beautifully proportioned bourgeois gothic. Banderas, now a bit creased, but still handsome as Gable, strikes the perfect balance between penny-dreadful lunatic and believably traumatised professional.
The film’s reveries on gender and ideals of beauty will keep film academics pondering for decades. Beneath all the madness, there are questions being asked about how much outward appearance affects the inner being.
Such ponderings, however, never get in the way of the film’s desire to unsettle and amuse. This is a first-class shocker.
Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai* * *
Directed by Takashi Miike
Starring Ichikawa Ebizo XI, Eita, Koji Yakusho, Hikari Mitsushima
IF YOU don’t like this Takashi Miike film, then don’t fret. Another one will be along in a moment. The latest from the prolific Japanese director is the first film to be screened in 3D at the official Cannes competition. It hardly needs to be said that – broken-record time from this writer – the process adds nothing to the experience.
Don’t let the word samurai lead you astray, swords are not brandished in anger until the picture’s final 15 minutes – even then, they don’t hurtle out of the screen to poke you in the eye.
Following on from the recently released 13 Assassins,Takashi again sets out to remake and remodel a classic Japanese drama.
Masaki Kobayashi's Harakiri, itself a prize-winner at Cannes in 1963, tells the story of a poverty-stricken samurai who asks – apparently insincerely – to commit ritual suicide in the grounds of a powerful feudal lord. His real aim is to be turned away with a few alms in his pocket. Sadly, the kingpin does not wish to play ball.
Told in flashback, the film describes how the hero, once a man of great pride, fell into destitution. It's a sad story related with great economy and – considering Miike is the director of the brilliantly horrible Audition– with great sensitivity. Mutating leaves trace the passing of the seasons.
Ryuichi Sakamoto’s score swells to great effect.
At times the picture seems, perhaps, a little too sedate. But that final bloody conflagration is worth waiting for – even if you are forced to wear stupid glasses while watching it.
