Modern Masterpiece: Under the Skin
Modern Masterpiece:
Under the Skin
From the opening moments of Under the Skin (dir. Jonathon Glazer), I was immediately captivated. The movie is visually stunning, with a stone cold performance from Scarlett Johansson and outstanding original score by Mica Levi. Although also met with critical acclaim, the score for Under the Skin was a shockingly under appreciated marriage of electronic soundscape, string electronics and live manipulation.
The film follows and alien seductress, who roams Scotland in search human prey based on the novel. She lures unwitting men into her black, sort-of torture chamber spaceship. When arriving at said spaceship, the suitably aroused men are led into a sort of liquid death pool, where they are deflated into a floating bag of skin. Not quite the 50 Shades of Grey seduction we are used to. The description alone is premise for a bleak setting, along with the inhumanity that is peppered throughout the movie.
From the first notes heard in the film, the scathing buzz of strings and grumble of synthesiser creates an organically alien and mechanical sound, almost hive-like. We are led to assume this is our protagonists transport. Immediately, we begin to question: is the alien a part of a much bigger ideology, one that we only get to see a small part of? Levi has been able to craft something that uses a pallet of textures and timbre, thin and bare but packed with guts. Maybe, it was the existential punch in the stomach I was left with at the end of the film, or perhaps it was just surreal seeing all of this take place in my home city of Glasgow.
The most immediately striking trait about the score is it’s textural signature. Created using mostly live viola and processed electronically. We are welcomed with a hollow wind, an ominous tone laying our audio foundations. Then, the screeching and sliding three note theme is introduced. This theme returns throughout and plays a crucial, albeit versatile role. It’s one of the key identifying factors of Mica Levi’s score these moments of textural extremes, that adorn and collaborate with the narrative. Levi is a master at creating a sound that acts as a familiar stranger, that we willing follow into the dark hum.
Love, a softer, more radiating track from Mica Levi’s groundbreaking score is one that I find myself returning to over again. In the middle of a surreal alien soundscape, Love creates a intimate moment; tender and introspective but laced with a unmistakable feeling of detachment. In this scene, the warm childish innocence, vulnerability and curiosity makes the scene feel so human. It is a moment that stands out, maybe it’s exactly because of this dichotomy that the piece feels so transportive, making it easy to become absorbed in the audio sphere that’s been created. In essence, I think it’s one of the reasons why I found Under the Skin so memorable, so existentially profound.
Of course, this won’t be the same for everyone, although the film was met with a generally warm critical reception, it is certainly a divisive film. It proposes questions without answering them and leaves us entices the audience to make their own translations. Ultimately, it was the odd sense of comfort I felt in the midst of something that was so cold and so alien to me, that left an impression.
Recently re-listening to Levi’s score got me thinking about the disassociation that the music creates with the anti-villain and how these underlying themes become manifested. One of the more interesting elements of the score is achieved by creating an emotional connection to the alien by making us empathise with her. By crafting a soundscape that follows the story narrative merged with the arthouse visuals, we experience the world as seen through our anti-hero’s eyes, unknown and unsure.
The rubato-esque strings buddied with the stark, primitive percussion creates a vivid sense of alienation and otherworldliness. Dissonant reflections bounce off each other as they slide their way through the theme. The theme, almost serpent like in nature, provides the ambiguous palette of tonality, gently flipping from Minor to Major, rattling, hissing and sliding. As the strings focus on consonance, time stands still. A moment can last forever and as the consonance looses focus, it slides back into dissonance. There is something oddly unnatural about the timbre of the strings, a very emotive and human sound, processed through electronics. Visually we can see a similar comparison when looking that the visually stark spaceship vs. the scenes of forestry or coast.
There is a sort of paternal attachment that we make with Johansson’s character, as she navigates trough Scotland. As mentioned, the narrative seems to be more inclined to mirror the thematic development underwent by the alien itself while it fights for survival in a foreign place. Through this we gain attachment with the alien and their interpretation of what it means to be normal. At times, the film can be harrowing, the bleak visuals and heavy subject matter portrait the alien with a coolness and volatility that is only balanced out by the occasional tender more emotional moments.
Under the Skin has moments that are terrifying, gorgeous and beautifully unique. It conjures a sense of disparity that few films can. Johansson does a great job of drawing out sadness, empathy, fear and confusion out of a character that has minimum dialogue. It really is a masterful display of minimalist characterisation and composition.