Did I Like that Movie?

The Skin I Live In is weird as hell

THE SKIN I LIVE IN: Directed by Pedro Almodóvar. Written by Almodóvar and Thierry Jonquet. Cinematography, José Luis Alcaine. Editor, José Salcedo. Music, Alberto Iglesias. Starring Antonio Banderas, Elena Anaya, Roberto Álamo, Marisa Paredes, Jan Cornet. Sony Pictures Classics, 2011. R. 117 minutes. Three and a half stars.

It’s tough to recall a time when reading the word “vaginoplasty” on a screen legitimately made me shudder. Unfortunately, that was probably the desired reaction for Pedro Almodóvar — the acclaimed director, screenwriter and producer of a grip of Spanish films including 2006’s Volver and 2009’s Los Abrazos Rotos — whose most recent work, La Piel que Habito (The Skin I Live In) opens Friday at the Bijou.



The thriller centers on Dr. Robert Ledgard (Antonio Banderas), a tenured plastic surgeon in Toledo whose wife has died in a fiery car accident. Playing a sort of latter-day Frankenstein, Ledgard attempts to manufacture and apply a fire-resistant synthetic skin to cover a patient’s body. Elena Anaya plays Ledgard’s intriguing patient and new love, Vera Cruz, who seems entirely out of place from the beginning.

Locked in a well-furnished room under constant television surveillance, Vera is the alpha and omega of La Piel que Habito’s twisted, meandering plot. I was forced to ask why she was present — and the fact that the doctor has given her surgery to look just like his wife definitely seemed strange — but it entirely comes down to the way in which Almodóvar tells his stories.

The slow pace of it all makes the suspense build at an undetectable rate. I wish I could say that it leads to some sort of cataclysm, but it really doesn’t. Instead, the story keeps wandering further and further away from what the audience expects of it. Of course, that’s not to say it’s bad; it’s just kind of like being thrown sideways into a river and watching as the shore recedes into the distance. The point is, you’re left with a mystery: “Where the fuck am I being washed away to?”

Visually, the film is striking from beginning to end: It’s violent, beautiful and contains enough sexual imagery to make Sigmund Freud shit a brick. But at the same time there’s an odd lack of depth or dimension to the characters that makes the movie’s midway point a little draggy. It sorts itself out by the end, sort of, but not before a whole lot of long-winded build-up that, quite frankly, could have been omitted.

The acting is perfectly campy at times — a trait of melodrama that should never be forgotten — and there are plenty of dark, comedic moments to keep the anticipation on the rise (case in point: Roberto Álamo’s hulking figure sporting a codpiece with a tiger’s face on it bounding about the house in search of Vera), but again, there’s something empty about it all. In this sense, La Piel que Habito is as stark and flat as it is vibrant and engaging — a strange cocktail of good, bad, ugly and breasts.

There’s no doubt in my mind that every movie buff from here to Barcelona is going to say La Piel que Habito evokes beautiful themes of desire and obsession — themes that juxtapose the creepily tender love story that sits at the film’s heart. And they’d be right, I suppose, but that doesn’t mean we actually need to focus on that kind of twaddle.

At its core, this film is as intriguingly good as any Ernest Hemingway novel, the kind where you can’t put it down but you don’t know why, and that’s what makes it art. I don’t know why, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I liked it.

In any case, I can at least take pleasure in noting that La Piel que Habito is a fairly large step up from Puss in Boots for Antonio Banderas.

La Piel que Habito opens Friday, Nov. 18, at the Bijou Art Cinema.

EW 11/17

Acoustica!

That inherently colorless Northwest winter is coming. There’s no vitamin D to be had, and likely you’ll feel like sitting inside drinking tea until your body gets used to the cold. What an interesting turn of events it is, though, that Greensky Bluegrass (pictured) should come through town just as the chills and rain begin to set in. This band’s music sounds like looking out a window at the rain beating everything around it into soggy oblivion; but there’s a plucky twang in the background to remind you that this is just a seasonal thing.

The smoothness of bluegrass is often hard to wrap the mind around — especially considering the fact that much of the genre’s subject matter is as coarse and croaky as a night of cigarettes and bourbon. Greensky Bluegrass manages to keep alive all the charms of traditional bluegrass in the very act of destroying it — in a good way. Seriously, when was the last time you heard a bunch of orchestral horns backing a traditional bluegrass song?



Greesky Bluegrass continues the contemporary, cascading waterfall sound that groups like the Flecktones and Dave Matthews Band made popular, while still penning lyrics like “I’d probably kill you if I wasn’t already wasted.” And even when the smoothness gets a little heady and you’re starting to feel like you might be getting cold again, the band manages to get the crowd out of their seats and stomping around, so no worries, yo.

On a note more pertinent where stomping is concerned, The Devil Makes Three also make an appearance in Eugene this week, and if any of you are outside braving the rain and want to stay warm, this band knows how to throw down a rabble-rouser.

So what do the cold and the damp mean for your winter listening? It shouldn’t change a thing. Get off your couch and go jig to some smooth-ass bluegrass. The rain will still be waiting for you when the shows are over.

Greensky Bluegrass and Hot Buttered Rum play 8 pm, Thursday, Nov. 17, at McDonald Theatre; $17 adv., $20 door. The Devil Makes Three plays 8:30 pm, Friday, Nov. 18, at McDonald Theatre; $17.50 adv., $20 door.

EW 11/17

Will the Real Pop Culture Please Stand Up?

Retromania and the search for originality

We live in a culture dominated by high speeds, convenience and ever-expanding eclecticism. Where significant cultural movements once gripped the world, fads and trends now cut shallow ripples in the fabric of local society.

Today’s popular culture is, in a fundamental sense, built entirely around instant gratification and nostalgia as these phenomena masquerade in place of originality. This statement may seem bold — brash, even — but it is this same notion that becomes a startlingly blunt hypothesis in Simon Reynolds’ Retromania: Pop Culture’s Addiction to Its Own Past (Faber & Faber; paperback, $18).

Reynolds, a human encyclopedia of music culture, pulls the reader through his book like a hot knife through butter. He’s clearly a talented writer and has killer form and voice when he puts pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) — from a stylistic standpoint these are excellent traits to possess.



Reynolds possesses a wicked sense of humor, too: It’s lines like “to venerate artworks from the past was like wasting one’s elan vital on something inert and decayed; like fucking a corpse” that make Retromania gripping. If you go into this book expecting cleanliness and godliness from start to finish, you’re going to be disappointed.

Beneath the rugged exterior that these instances convey, however, Reynolds triumphs through the sheer scope of his knowledge — from the music, films and television shows he cites to the people, places and things that made them significant, he’s incredibly well informed.

It takes finesse to explain the origins of the word “nostalgia” alongside anecdotes from great experiences with music and make it interesting; it takes real skill to use all of this in order to inspire a genuine craving for the past in an unwitting reader. So, yeah, this book is pretty much like a musically erudite Inception.

With this in mind, there are definite points at which Reynolds verges on information overload — a complication, perhaps, that goes with vast knowledge — and he has to reign himself in.

This aside, there are very few moments that force the mind away from the subject at hand. I found myself drifting from the book every now and then (only to discover, as is the norm, that I had some pages to re-read), but during these blips I found that I was focused on a deep re-hashing of everything Reynolds had just told me.

At its core, Retromania not only argues that the past will always be a more desirable entity than the present; it also stands as a didactic analysis of the human condition through decades of what some would denounce as pure, cycling unoriginality. Pop culture is one hell of a remixed ride through time, and Simon Reynolds is fearless in his exploration of it.

EW 10/20

No Car? No Problem

Living in Eugene sans automobile

Most folks that are new to Eugene — this mainly meaning new students — probably assume right off the bat that a car is the best mode of transportation in this city. That’s totally what I thought when I first got here, but I was seriously effin’ wrong, and so are they. And you’ll probably think the same, by the way, if you’re a newcomer: You’ll be standing sadly on the sidewalk, staring longingly at the cars while rain pounds your face, wishing more than anything that you had your car. Sure, it may look “glamorous” and “dry” inside those things, but once school starts and students, professors and commuters are all headed to their different ports of call, Eugene becomes something of a hectic, gas emission-shrouded clusterfuck. Seriously, you’re not missing out on much if you can’t join in. There are many reasons why Eugene is actually easier to navigate without a car (including the fact that this city seems like it was designed by drunks; the layout of our road system is truly abysmal in places), but why take those reasons to heart? What are your alternatives? Well, here ya go:

Photo by Todd Cooper

1. LTD

Lane County has an incredible public transit system known as LTD (Lane Transit District). The buses all leave from one hub in the center of downtown, and they’ll take you from just about any “a” to any “b” in a short amount of time. The EmX — which primarily runs along Franklin Boulevard on the north side of campus — and all inner-city buses are 100 percent free for UO and LCC students. Cherish this fact if you’re a student; it’s without a doubt the greatest piece of information anybody ever told me when I first got here, especially when it was pissing down rain. All you need is a valid student ID to flash at the bus driver, and you’re set to go. The best part about this, though, is that you can just sit and let the driver fight his way through traffic, pedestrians, bicycles, roadwork and all other obstacles while you relax. Seriously, use the bus system here; it rocks.

2. BICYCLE

By now I’d guess that you’ve probably noticed the bicycles. Yeah, Eugene is pretty much the Amsterdam of North America when it comes to bikes, and for good reason — the city pretty much revolves around bicycles: Nearly every road has a bike lane, nearly every business and building has a place to park bikes, every bus is equipped to strap bikes to the front, and nearly every thief in town is after that one bike without a U-lock. With this in mind, bike theft is huge here so it’s recommended that you buy a sturdy lock that can’t be cut off really easily. See? Even the crime rate helps motivate you to keep your bike safe and secure. Get out there and cycle.

3. YOUR FEET

Sometimes people forget that they literally have a mode of transportation attached to them. Walking is really easy in Eugene; there are plenty of crosswalks, and cars tend to give right of way without a fuss. If you think about the amount of places you really need to get to in this city, too, they are incredibly localized — be it downtown or campus area — so it’s never too far to walk. Of course, this one’s completely dependent upon you being badass enough to brave the winter rain; I suggest that you buy a waterproof jacket, some bad weather shoes and a bunch of cold medicine before you have at it.

Okay, so maybe the list of alternatives isn’t a mile long, but Eugene isn’t really that many miles long, so three options should be more than enough. These are really the best ways to get around, and as much as it looks like the people in their fancy cars are loving every second of it, the multiple instances of outrageous roadwork and confusion that they have to face every time they drive really add up to negativity. So don’t mope around just because you don’t have a car; get outside and use what’s given to you — Eugene’s pretty much done all of the work for you. All you have to do is commute.

EW 10/6