Almodovar's determination to put an overly clever reveal into his film's middle forces its structure to be more complicated than necessary. Though the reveal doesn't withhold information from the audience in an irritating way, there's something inherently gimmicky about revealing a major character has undergone a sex change operation.
What keeps The Skin I Live In from totally floundering is its overall sordidness. It never feels less than totally devious, escalating more and more before finally imploding in the film's final moments. In place of a third act, Almodovar simply has Vera/Vincente escape from his captor and return home. The only reason the film stops there is because its clearly gone on long enough, but it's far from the appropriate place for the story to end.
The scenes inspired by torture films, particularly when Vincente is first held captive in a dungeon, are the most interesting. In these moments, the clearly plotted nature of Almodovar's script is briefly forgotten. While the film is as stylish and polished as most of his products, plot holes and half-formed character motivations compound early on. That leaves Alberto Iglesias' evocative score and the impressive art direction as distractions rather than integral parts of the film.
Antonio Banderas is competent enough. While Jan Cornet and Elena Anaya give performances that are compelling independent of one another, they share no common thread so it's hard to believe one became the other. They desperately needed some kind of coordinated physicality to give the film some plausibility.
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