The Skin I Live In

A brilliant plastic surgeon keeps a woman captive in his mansion, perfecting an artificial skin on her. Who she is, and why she is there, is the film's central and shocking answer.

Almodóvar adapted a French novel and made it entirely his own: glossy, controlled, and colour-saturated, with a plot that reveals itself in flashback to be about consent, identity and a father's terrible project.

Antonio Banderas returned to Almodóvar after two decades for it, and plays the surgeon with a calm that makes the reveals worse.

Elena Anaya, as the captive, gives the performance the film depends on.

It is not gory. The horror is entirely in the premise, and the premise, once understood, recontextualises every earlier scene. It is one of the great genre films of the decade and barely marketed as one.