At this stage of his illustrious career, Almodóvar seems able to plunge viewers into gorgeously shot worlds of rapturous color and pulpy intrigue with one hand tied behind his back. His latest film finds him deploying his signature style in the service of “a horror story without screams and frights.” Antonio Banderas stars as a brilliant plastic surgeon haunted by loss and not above working out his shit on the operating table. His favored guinea pig: a mysterious young woman kept comfortably captive in the doctor’s home. From this toxic setup, The Skin I Live In spins off in a half-dozen directions, leaping through time and flirting with story lines that evoke deeper mysteries while remaining tantalizingly unresolved. It’s spellbinding. (See Movie Times)

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