It’s rare that an adaptation of a high-profile film doesn’t exploit the wilder, weirder aspects of its real-life counterpart. Yet that’s exactly what happens in the case of director Austin Peters’ Skincare, which, to be fair, only claims to be a fictionalized version of the true crime story of a successful celebrity cosmetician who allegedly hired a hitman to eliminate her competition. What’s there uses real-life scandal to explore the female anger, jealousy and paranoia simmering beneath the girl-boss gloss that was so prevalent in the early 2010s. Through a sophisticated aesthetic bolstered by a sensational soundscape, the filmmakers create a gorgeous, atmospheric mood piece. But given some of the omissions, it’s questionable why the storytellers didn’t go for the bigger picture in the first place.
Skin is delicate (it’s the largest organ in the human body) and its job is to keep us healthy and intact. No wonder the first image we see is an extreme close-up of Hope Goldman’s (Elizabeth Banks) stressed-out face – more specifically, the cracks in the makeup foundation that crust it over. It’s an apt metaphor for the wrinkles in her plan for world domination.
Just two weeks ago, she had her life perfectly planned: She’s one of the city’s top aestheticians, nurturing the supple skin of the hottest stars and wealthiest housewives, and her business is on the verge of taking off. But stress is surfacing. She owes the landlord (John Billingsley) the rent on her studio in Hollywood’s charming Crossroads of the World mall—a picture-perfect location worthy of this fairytale gone wrong. The upcoming launch of her at-home skincare line (“from Italy,” as a running joke goes) depends heavily on the press courting her, and the self-proclaimed “glow-getter” is overly concerned with staying booked and busy.
Just when Hope thinks everything is fine, a new tenant moves in across the street and turns her life upside down. Angel (Luis Gerardo Méndez) is a combative upstart in the beauty industry, and their first encounter is awkward at best. Soon after, Hope’s tires are slashed and her email address is hacked, allowing someone to send explicit emails to her entire contact list. When Hope faces threatening text messages and sexual harassment, she enlists the help of flirtatious, tanned and buff twenty-something Jordan (Lewis Pullman), whom she recently reunited with when a client (Wendie Malick) brought him to her salon. She suspects Angel is responsible for this deliberate sabotage. But as threatening events escalate, Hope spirals out of control and calls in her muscleman Armen (Erik Palladino) to eliminate her competition.
Peters and his co-writers Sam Freilich and Deering Regan don’t just lampoon the beauty industry as an industry. They also lampoon the exquisitely polished shellac of this lifestyle, which coats the darker sides of the business with fickle trends, insatiable media cycles and predatory people. Peters shows a sure sense of vision, weaving character details with an unsettling atmospheric restlessness and borrowing slightly from masters like Kubrick (a pursuit by an intimidating bald man recalls “Eyes Wide Shut”) and De Palma (during an interrupted break-in at Hope’s house). Hope and Angel’s contrasting sensibilities are reflected in the contrasting color schemes of their inner sanctums: hers is a serene pale blue and eggshell white, his is an outrageous, youthful dark teal and fuchsia. Fatima Al Qadiri’s score ranges from haunting harp sounds, like those you’d expect in a soothing spa, to thumping industrial beats, and blends beautifully with the eclectic elements of the soundtrack.
Among the film’s more obvious flaws is that Hope’s assistant, Marine (Michaela Jaé (MJ) Rodriguez), is severely underplayed and hardly one-dimensional. She has no interiority or plot coherence, serving only the writers’ contrived needs to get Hope from one crucial place to the next. The filmmakers are sloppy with who is behind Hope’s cyberbullying. The moments when we find out (an eternity before any of the characters do), when the filmmakers show us (which happens an hour in), and when Hope finds out (which happens late in the third act) are staggered. Had these details aligned, there could have been an effective denouement.
Banks delivers a stellar performance, despite having been cast in similar roles before (most recently in “The Beanie Bubble”). Had this material suited the talented actress’s abilities, it might have allowed her to explore deeper facets of the hallucinatory toxicity Hope slipped into, a la “Revulsion” or “Black Swan.” With razor-sharp accuracy and a ripped physique, Pullman (perhaps channeling a bit of his father Bill’s scene-stealing brilliance as a fool in “Ruthless People”) nails the type of cocky fool circling this run-of-the-mill town. Méndez also turns in strong work, smoothing over his character’s rougher edges with slick subtlety.
While one assumes the filmmakers are taking creative liberties, especially given the film’s roots as a tabloid story, it’s surprising that the filmmakers chose to leave out details that would have enhanced their portrayal. Dawn DaLuise, the inspiration for Hope, was not only a complex, deeply flawed human being, but also someone who seemed to believe in giving people second chances, as evidenced by her connections to convicted criminals, including Nick Prugo of “The Bling Ring.” The detectives leading the investigation didn’t believe her – an aspect that goes shockingly unexplored in a film with such a clear feminist bent. Furthermore, by making Hope’s attackers a hybrid of two characters, the filmmakers confuse the motives of the bully who targets her: Is it pure greed to take advantage of lonely women of a certain age or simple revenge? Maybe none of this ultimately matters, and that in itself is the sentiment that is packaged and sold for our consumption. But it makes for a bland portrayal of showbiz.
