Under the Skin

The film may have come and gone from your friendly neighbourhood kinemaplex by now, but since starting this blog I've felt compelled to commit at least some pen to paper - or finger to keyboard - on the hypnotic and unsettling third feature from Jonathan Glazer (Sexy Beast, Birth). Almost an exercise in join-the-dot cinema, the basic premise is relatively simple yet it begs you to ask "right, just what the f*ck is going on" at every turn. I guess it's less a film, more of an experience... and yes I said the same clichéd line about Gravity, to which this film bears no relation whatsoever. But do bear with me.

Scarlett Johansson is in fine form (and accent) as an otherworldly being who's landed on earth, picking off strangers seemingly at random in deepest, darkest Glasgow. Tempting them back to abandoned buildings to then enter an unexplained black box netherworld, complete with liquid floor and no chance of sex, we're never quite sure why she's luring men back to her lair. Nor why there's another alien who's taken to the streets on a motorcycle - is he monitoring her? What's his motivation? What's hers? You may find yourself demanding answers from minute one, but I fear this isn't what Glazer wants you to do. He could very well be recommending the book the film is based on for all we know, from which answers may come gushing forth. But in terms of the feature he's constructed it's very much a case of sit tight, don't ask questions, and see where your head is at when the lights come up.

Quite where your head will be at is another thing, but it's fair to say Under the Skin doesn't once leave you bored. From the inky cinematography by Daniel Landin (Director of Photography on Radiohead's claustrophobic No Surprises) to the seductively detached central performance from Johansson; from a horrifying beach scene at the film's midway point, through to its harrowing conclusion. It's a bleak and unhurried ride often recalling the work of Andrea Arnold (Red Road).

Indeed in keeping with Arnold-esque realism, many of the cast were non-actors filmed with hidden cameras in Johansson's transit van which she uses to prowl the streets, searching for her next conquest. It all adds to build an atmosphere that's so palpable and thick with tension you'd struggle to cut it with a machete. But where Arnold's work is firmly rooted in a stark reality, it's the underlying knowledge that Under the Skin is, at heart, a sci-fi film - complete with a 150,000 gallon on-set water tank and a flaming alien - that help to lend proceedings a sense of genuine foreboding, a throbbing energy that's hard to describe until you've surrendered to its tightening grip.

I'd love to reveal more about the film, but it'd be a shame to pull any rugs from under you if you're tempted to give it a go. And why not. Immerse yourself in Under the Skin, and let it get under yours.