Weekly Review -- Beings of entropy

Under the Skin (2013) -- Some cinematic experiences linger with us for days, some for weeks and others... they are a different story altogether. Others change our perception of certain genres, making us rethink our significance in the universe. This is an organic process with genres as flexible and visionary as science fiction, those that allow constant change to undermine their status quo and keep audiences' world views shifting. It is science fiction that gave us Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, the first film that dared chart humanity's odyssey, and Ridley Scott's Blade Runner, that made us question what it means to be a person. Now another film joins this canon -- Jonathan Glazer's ominous, challenging and revelatory Under the Skin, based on Michel Faber's 2000 novel.

**THIS REVIEW CONTAINS HUGE SPOILERS**

An alien femme fatale (Scarlett Johansson) prowls the gloomy streets of Glasgow picking up men, while a lone motorist assists in her quest. Each man is brought to what looks like another dimension and each of them disappears into a mysterious black void as the woman seduces them. Eventually, she meets a man with facial deformities (Adam Pearson) who starts changing her notions of Earth and its inhabitants... but what attitude will she ultimately choose?

At first glance, the look of the film reminded me of a particularly spectral Massive Attack song. Cinematographer Daniel Landin has actually worked on the band's innovative "Teardrop" video and director Glazer has directed videos for two of the band's most haunting songs, "Karmacoma" and "Live With Me". The artists bring the same kind of forbidding aesthetic to Under the Skin. From the beginning, we know that this Scotland is not a warm and welcoming place. We know that the muggy streets shown are too menacing to be the city streets that we are used to and we know that these people are not our friends and neighbors. The reason why we know these things is the very first sequence. Completely unaware of the context, we are thrown into a cacophony of strange sounds, permeating either a construction or deconstruction of the eye -- we are never sure which. As the film goes on to show, it could be either one. The images startle, pushing indifference off the table. This is foreign; we are cold and unsettled. This is surveillance. Similarly to Blade Runner, a work that I keep returning to for its visual and thematic values, this eye chronicles, but is also a reflection. Glazer informs us right away that we are going to be observed and, using this perspective, allows us to see our world from an alien's point of view. 

And... it is one harsh, unforgiving place. Street lights fuse with highways stretching across damp nightly sojourns, sex-hungry drunks and other bar dwellers spill out of clubs and uninviting homes loom around every corner to create the most oppressive and isolating atmosphere since 1984. This is the melancholy beauty of Glazer's piece, making the parallel between the alien's loneliness and our own. It is no wonder that voids play such a large part in the narrative. The first time that we see the extraterrestrial is within a white nothingness; an entity with no context, no ties. She submerges her victims in black, their own quest ending in oblivion. The alien does not recognize her own desolation and neither do we, pretending to form connections and mistaking a momentary coupling for genuine emotion, so hungry we are for real contact. By showing us the alien's journey, the film brings our loneliness to the forefront and highlights our need to connect, seen most poignantly in the single touch between two of her victims. 

The woman herself starts comprehending human relations when she embarks on a tentative friendship. However, a violent act usurps her newfound understanding, showing human nature at its worst. Whatever we cannot or do not want to fathom, we destroy. The question is, how does this proclivity translate into an intimate link to another person? Can we ever reconcile the two? We are paradoxical beings, capable of creating masterpieces and murdering thousands upon thousands of innocents. We have survived up until this point, but is this conflict going to lead to our downfall? The film gives a clear answer. We do not need aliens annihilating us. We are doing quite well devouring ourselves, thank you very much.  

The performances are a huge part of the experience. The sparse dialogue leaves room for improvisation and physicality, and Johansson is masterful at it. Her character goes from aloof spectator to unwilling participant, from hunter to hunted. All the while, she holds on to her defenses, even as they start breaking down. It is one of the bravest performances in recent years and I am surprised that we did not hear a lot more about it. Newcomer Pearson also shines as a would-be victim that makes the alien reconsider her mission, and Michael Moreland is quietly impressive as the first man that treats the alien with kindness and wants nothing from her in return. A special mention goes to Mica Levi's threatening, unpredictable music for taking us further into the darkness and not letting us out that easily.

Any film that illuminates the human condition is a work of art. Under the Skin interprets our existence and plays with our senses from the viewpoint of an outsider, reminding us of the familiar through the lens of the foreign. Its brilliance comes from its grasp of the protagonist's desires and her ability to evolve beyond expectations, showing us that she is more than the mask that she wears and exposing her vulnerability. Its genius lies within its willingness to teach us a thing or two about our explorations; to hold up a mirror and dare us to look.   

9/10