If you’ve never had a full-blown panic attack, first of all, congratulations. You’re living the dream. Second, know that this is no fun at all. No one who has ever huddled in a corner with paralyzing shortness of breath and a numb brain has come out the other side thinking, “This is entertainment!”
It’s funny, then, that so many movies try to entertain us by making their protagonists panic and have the audience share that fear. Even great movies do this a little too well sometimes (“Uncut Gems,” I’m looking at you). Fortunately for me and everyone else in the audience, Austin Peters knows exactly what he’s doing with Skincare, balancing a sense of total desperation with just enough kitsch to convey his nightmarish situations without ruining your day. It’s a smart and promising debut film from Peters, whose recent music videos for country star Orville Peck also demonstrated his masterful command of tone.
Elizabeth Banks plays Hope Goldman, a skincare specialist whose wealthy celebrity clientele keeps her business afloat. She lives in Los Angeles, so God only knows how much her rent is, and it makes sense that she’s behind on it. All her money is tied up in a sophisticated line of skincare products—made in Italy!—but they’re not on the market yet. All Hope has to do is stall her landlord, do a TV interview, and wait a few weeks until her ship finally arrives.
Then, because life is hell, everything falls apart. A competing skin care clinic opens across the street and steals her business. Someone hacks her email and sends lurid messages to everyone she knows and works with. Her tires get slashed, her TV interview gets canceled, disturbing fake personal ads get posted on Craig’s List, and just so we’re clear: none of this is funny.
That’s good, because it shouldn’t be. Austin Peters co-wrote the screenplay with Sam Freillich and Deering Regan, and they all keep the tone deceptively light for a while. The film is set in a world full of shallow and deceitful people, and Peters doesn’t seem to think much of them. They deserve a nudge in the ribs. But just because they’re ridiculous doesn’t mean we should laugh.
Elizabeth Banks is a talented comedian capable of effervescent lightness. Hope Goldman desperately wants to be liked, and Banks maintains a veneer of cheerfulness for as long as possible. But beneath the surface – the skin, if you will – she is crumbling under the pressure, and the pressure is getting more and more terrible. Banks does a great job of modulating her panic and smiling facade, and of evoking our sympathy even when she makes terrible decisions, because what alternatives did she have?
There is an element of Skincare that is universally relatable: the feeling that your life is falling apart, the fear of financial ruin. But as Skincare progresses, it gets bigger and bigger, focusing on how men ignore, neglect, exploit and abuse women. Hope’s life is destroyed by the ambitions of men who either want to hurt her or don’t care if she gets hurt. “Skincare is a cutthroat business,” Hope tells TV host Brett Wright (Nathan Fillion). “Business is a ruthless business,” he replies, just minutes before proving his point with a pathetic and despicable display.
The identity of Hope’s stalker is a mystery that “Skincare” seeks to solve, not because the revelation is shocking, but because the motive is so revealing. When the twist finally comes, Austin Peters’ film evolves into a different kind of narrative. Less a thriller and more an old-fashioned Hollywood expose, a kind of “ripped from the headlines” true crime story that fascinates us in ways we’re not proud of. Watching people make a horrific mess is hypnotic, and watching them try to dig their way out of the garbage heap is a little off-putting and oddly inspiring. Because the more broken our lives become, the more viewers will want to dig through the rubble. And probably buy a piece of it.
“Skincare” will be released exclusively in theaters on August 16th.
