Philip
Ridley's haunting American Gothic portrait of the loss of innocence
should be held up as one of the great art-house films of the 1990s...
so why have so few people even heard of it?
Some
pieces of cinema are so emotionally intense, with such raw and
uncompromising power, that audiences just aren't prepared for them.
They may deserve to be held up as great classics, but not enough
viewers are willing to undergo the experience to appreciate them as
such. Philip Ridley's haunting 1990 directorial debut, The
Reflecting Skin,
is one such film: a beautifully painful Southern-Gothic tale that is
very much at home alongside other Criminally Neglected masterpieces
like The
Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover.
It is a stunningly shot, emotionally evocative, almost poetic story
about the loss of innocence and the bleakness of reality, set against
the existential angst of post-World War II rural America. At times
reminiscent of both Terrance Malick and David Lynch, though
thoroughly its own beast throughout, Ridley's tale by all rights
should be held in the highest echelon of art cinema's tragic tales.
Yet somehow it instead was allowed to fall into obscurity as quickly
as it emerged, remaining out of print for over a decade, and never
even receiving a widescreen release in the U.S. It still remains
unavailable in any sort of decent release in America, but for those
willing to import, a beautifully-restored Canadian blu-ray and DVD
release came out in mid-March. This film needs
to
be rediscovered, and with this definitive edition available just over
the border, now is the perfect time.
Eight-year-old
Seth Dove is learning the hard way that the world is a terribly cruel
place. Growing up in the film's bleak and dusty Southern landscape
wouldn't be conducive to a happy childhood under the best of
circumstances, but his reality is also growing ever more increasingly
full of grim and horrific truths that his youthful mind is unable to
process. All the adults in his life are emotionally and
psychologically damaged in various ways, several of them harbor
painful, potentially dangerous secrets that he is too young to
understand, and even the fantastical ideas that his mind conjures up
as coping mechanisms are growing ever darker. The
Reflecting Skin
follows
young Seth as he tries to navigate this landscape as best he can, in
a story that could either be described as a fall from innocence, or
an exceptionally painful coming-of-age. It turns Americana on its
head in a manner not unlike a rural Blue
Velvet,
but writer/director Philip Ridley's approach is decidedly original:
likely influenced by David Lynch, but not derivative of him.
Observing the whole story through the eyes and perspective of a child
- who already exhibits a mix of innocence and cruelty even at such a
young age - gives the whole thing a psychologically-subjective style
that makes it all the more poetic. It also makes it even more
disturbing, as he sees things that no child of that age should have
to.
Ridley
is boldly uncompromising in his artistic vision, making difficult
choices that may not make his film immediately accessible, but
ultimately make it much stronger and more powerful. When we first
meet young Seth, we are introduced to him in a way that immediately
makes us dislike and distrust him; a seemingly odd decision for the
film's protagonist. Yet as we get to know him and his world, it
becomes clear that Ridley made this choice so that we would begin the
film in the same position as the adults that surround Seth: distant
and alienated from him, unwilling to give him the benefit of the
doubt. As the film goes on and we come to understand and sympathize
with him, the act of reassessing his character allows us to more
strongly feel the emotional impact of the coldness and hostility he
receives. It makes us implicit in the film's cruelty towards this
should-be-innocent kid, and positions us as participants rather than
just viewers.
The
way that Ridley keeps us at an emotional distance for much of the
film's first act invites us to view it with a very analytical
mindset, which its dense images and themes certainly benefit from.
Then as the tone of the movie shifts and it lets us in emotionally,
we see it from the other side, and feel the things that we had
previously just been studying. All of this makes The
Reflecting Skin
a thoroughly uneasy experience to undergo, but it also invites multiple
viewings: re-watching it once you know what sort of a journey it is
trying to take you on, so much more becomes clear, and the first act
in particular takes on a very different feel.
Just
as the film's structure works like an emotional puzzle that the
viewer must interact with, Ridley directs his cast in a fairly
cryptic way. Characters are played in a way that makes them initially
difficult to understand and get a feel for; understated and ambiguous
despite their often surreal dialogue. Like the film itself, though,
their layers become clear and open themselves up to interpretation.
The most fascinating and enigmatic performance belongs to Lindsay
Duncan, as a grieving widow surreally named Dolphin Blue. Her grief,
and the bleakly existential philosophy that it has inspired, makes
her both captivating and terrifying to Seth, and it is never quite
clear if the character we see is Dolphin as she really is, or a
psychologically-subjective portrayal filtered through our young main
character's eyes. Either way, the mix of coldness and genuine human
pain which Duncan brings to her character is breathtaking. Viggo
Mortensen is likewise excellent as Seth's older brother, who has just
returned from World War II a haunted man. The scenes between him and
Seth have a quiet, understated power, with so much more being said
than the few carefully-selected words in their dialogue.
At the heart of it all, though, is a nine-year-old actor named Jeremy Cooper, in his only starring role. As Seth, Cooper is fantastic, giving a dark, complex performance with wisdom beyond his years. It is hard to imagine that a kid so young could possibly understand the existentially heavy script, but his performance seems to get it completely. With a mix of innocence and darkness, carefreeness and grim fatalism, we see in him all the complexity of a kid struggling to come to terms with a terrible reality. While it has a source within the narrative, the title The Reflecting Skin also functions as a metaphor for Seth Dove himself: he may not understand everything that is happening around him, but his emotional reactions to it all are a mirror reflecting the madness of his world.
At the heart of it all, though, is a nine-year-old actor named Jeremy Cooper, in his only starring role. As Seth, Cooper is fantastic, giving a dark, complex performance with wisdom beyond his years. It is hard to imagine that a kid so young could possibly understand the existentially heavy script, but his performance seems to get it completely. With a mix of innocence and darkness, carefreeness and grim fatalism, we see in him all the complexity of a kid struggling to come to terms with a terrible reality. While it has a source within the narrative, the title The Reflecting Skin also functions as a metaphor for Seth Dove himself: he may not understand everything that is happening around him, but his emotional reactions to it all are a mirror reflecting the madness of his world.
The
film is beautifully, hauntingly shot, with stylized compositions of
the Southern countryside worthy of Terrence Malick. Alternating
between intense colors and muted gloom, between sweeping landscapes
and harsh close-ups, the visual artistry of The
Reflecting Skin
is just as compelling as its themes. This is all the more reason why
it is truly a shame that its only American DVD is a pan-and-scan
release which appears to be a recycling of its old laserdisc
transfer. Endless thanks are owed to Soda Films for finally changing
all that: their director-approved 2015 remaster, available on blu-ray
and DVD in Canada (Region A/1) and the UK (Region B/2) finally gives
the film the respect it deserves but has never gotten.
In addition to a truly stunning transfer, the Soda Films blu-ray/DVD
In addition to a truly stunning transfer, the Soda Films blu-ray/DVD
Now
that The
Reflecting Skin
finally has a really good release (which is much easier to acquire in
the U.S. than it initially appears), it is high time to lift this
film from obscurity and give it its rightful place among the great
art-house features of the 1990s. Its uncompromising emotional journey
certainly won't be for everyone, but if you are intrigued by the
promise of Ridley's debut feature, it is an absolute must-see. Anyone
with an appreciation for David Lynch's psychologically-driven
surrealism or Terrence Malick's visual poetry will find much to
enjoy; not in any derivative sense, but in a bold original work by a
kindred artistic spirit. The Soda Films disc is possibly one of the
most essential art-house blu-ray releases of 2016 so far; if you are
tempted to gaze into The
Reflecting Skin,
it needs a place on your shelf.
Score:
-
Christopher S. Jordan