Film Review – Skincare
Skincare
There are a lot of themes running throughout Skincare (2024), but I’m not so sure it examines any of them thoroughly. It has the tone of a satire, but what exactly is it satirizing? Is it about the shallowness of Hollywood? Is it about a female trying to be successful in a highly misogynistic industry? Is it about the downfall of a character who once was on top of the world? Is it a black comedy? A crime thriller? A horror film? There are all these separate elements stirred in the pot, but the film never forms any of its ideas to something significant. It looks good, has a slick style, and contains a committed central performance, but it all exists on a surface level.
Long time music director Austin Peters helms the film (while co-writing with Sam Freilich and Deering Regan) with a glossy exterior covering a more sinister underbelly. The use of makeup and skincare products can be viewed as a metaphor for Hollywood, where the glamour and glitziness hide darker motivations. Peters’ approach incorporates a sense of dread – as though an impending doom is hovering just above the characters’ heads. We see this from the get-go, where the editing (Laura Zempel) creates a montage juxtaposing a sun-drenched L.A. backdrop, closeups of people applying skincare products, and a time jump between a character’s obsessive ambition and the consequences of their actions. It all lends to a creepy, noirish atmosphere.
In this world we meet Hope Goldman (Elizabeth Banks), an “Aesthetician To The Stars” who has worked relentlessly to maintain her reputation. An early scene shows her taping an interview (conducted by Nathan Fillion and Julie Chang) describing how she became successful. But times have hit hard for Hope (pun not intended). Money has not been coming in like it used to, her landlord is threatening to close her shop, and a fellow skincare guru Angel (Luis Gerardo Méndez) has moved next door and operates as direct competition. All these points of stress wears down Hope’s normally composed demeanor. Her paranoia only escalates when she begins to suspect someone is trying to sabotage her latest product launch with the purpose of ruining her life.
Elizabeth Banks is a versatile actor, who can oscillate between dramatic and comedic roles with relative ease. She brings a lot of that to Hope, inhabiting her with strength, vulnerability, humor, and ruthlessness. But Banks’ performance doesn’t make up for the weaknesses in the character development. The writing constructs Hope with conflicting shades. There are instances where we are clearly meant to be on her side – such as when every man she encounters either hits on her or poses as some threat. And yet, there are examples of when she exhibits her own toxic behavior. She is self-absorbed, ego-centric, and isn’t afraid to bend the rules when things aren’t going her way. When she first meets Angel, she passive-aggressively mentions there’s no way they would share the same clientele, which could be interpreted as coded racism because he is a person of color. These opposing traits turn Hope into an enigma – we aren’t sure what to make of her because she exudes such hypocritical traits. It makes following her journey less engaging.
And that’s the biggest flaw of Skincare. While Peters’ direction is visually interesting, whatever satire there may be is not sharp enough to get the message across. As things escalate, we can surmise the plot hurtling towards disaster, but when it arrives it lands with a thud instead of a bang. Seeing it, I was reminded of another dark crime drama, Nightcrawler (2014). In that, writer/director Dan Gilroy weaved a tale of a determined, morally empty character willing to do anything to get ahead. The story was anchored by a totally unhinged performance from Jake Gyllenhaal. Much of that same spirit resides in Skincare, but it doesn’t go far enough. The capitalistic nature behind Hope’s persona exists but isn’t presented in a way for us to make a solid interpretation.
On paper, the narrative fits right into my wheelhouse of interest. One of the biggest reasons why I enjoy crime and noir films is because of the element of desperation. Seeing characters compromise themselves in highly tense moments can reveal larger truths about class, gender, race, etc. I think that is what the production was going for here. Banks is up for the task, but she is saddled with material that doesn’t keep up with her. A key image places Hope in front of a dressing room mirror applying makeup. The camera first captures her in extreme closeup, then slowly zooms out to reveal the vast array of lights circling her reflection. Aesthetically, it is a good looking shot, but what does it signify? There is a hint of something ominous bubbling underneath, but what it suggests is unclear. Are we meant to take this as Hope trying to fight the effects of aging in a youth-oriented industry? Is she putting on makeup to mask the more devious layers of her psyche? This central moment feels like a wasted opportunity because the subtext is undefined.
Skincare looks great, and fans of Elizabeth Banks will enjoy her dedicated lead performance. But if you are looking for something beyond that, you may come away a little disappointed. It’s a genre picture with something on its mind, but that “something” is hazy. The film wants to discuss many things but doesn’t seem quite sure what to say.