Hope (Elizabeth Banks) is a successful Hollywood facialist, ramping up to launch her own product range. After years of work and the last of her funds, everything hinges on the success of the line. Inevitably, things go wrong. First, another esthetician moves in across the street—he's young, trendy and popular almost immediately. Then, receiving creepy messages and having her email hacked, Hope begins to believe she's the victim of sabotage. As her clients begin to jump ship, the landlord keeps calling, and no one takes her fears seriously, Hope takes matters into her own hands.
If you have any interest, however vague, in the skincare industry, you'll be familiar with the phrases they use to market products. Skincare captures this perfectly; at one point, local TV hosts mention that Hope's rival Angel (Luis Gerardo Méndez) “brings tech from NASA to people's skin”, and Hope's comment that her products are made in Italy is repeated so often that it begins to feel like a lie. The fact that neither of these facts have any bearing on the quality of their respective work is, of course, never questioned, and at times it's just as easy to get pulled into the advertising-speak on screen as it is in real life.
At other times, though, the film's awareness of its setting disappears entirely. When actor turned life coach Jordan (Lewis Pullman) suggests that Hope use social media to build up her brand and host a launch party studded with Hollywood's shiniest faces, she acts as though this is revelatory. Surely, as an already successful businesswoman, she would know this. In fact, we see her long-suffering assistant Marine (Michaela Jaé Rodriguez) snapping pics for socials earlier on; as a plot point it jars, and makes Hope seem incompetent—which she clearly is not.
Banks allows a degree of vulnerability into her performance that makes Hope a rather tragic figure, the sheen of her public image giving way to a desperate, fierce ambition and a sense of loneliness. It's refreshing to see an alternative to the ‘girlboss business owner' narrative; Banks giving her character a depth that carries the story and makes it more than a lacklustre mystery.
Skincare doesn't take full advantage of the fact that it is about, well, skincare. The story could easily be transposed onto another industry; a few ideas about the obsessive and destructive nature of this world, fears of ageing, and the cult-friendly nature of Los Angeles are vaguely gestured at, but there's never anything concrete enough to constitute a real point. Hope stares in a mirror and smooths out the worry lines between her eyebrows and we see the Church of Scientology in a brief establishing shot, but the film doesn't push these themes in any direction.
By the third act, you'll find yourself wondering just how bad things could possibly get. The answer is, pretty terrible—for all involved. Yet the psychological and thriller aspects are never quite elevated enough to hit the right beats. There's real intrigue in the story, jeopardy and danger that are at times horrifying; an underlying tone of misogynistic violence runs throughout, but, like its other themes, is never fully explored and thus fails to build up the required ambience.
Skincare is a fun watch, bolstered by Banks (along with her selection of choice jackets) and a few moments that feel like unpopped corn kernels. The ideas here are intriguing, but once the film passes its midpoint there's little left to hold onto. It will almost certainly make you want to book a facial, though.
Skincare releases digitally on November 11.
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