Mysterious Skin (2004)

dir Gregg Araki

So. I finally watched Mysterious Skin after literal years of avoiding it because everyone promised that it would ruin me. Given my fragile mental state, I figured it was unwise to go there. But honestly, yesterday I was having such an unfortunate day that I figured nothing could make it worse. I’m glad I followed whatever instinct I had, because Mysterious Skin was a healing, albeit tough, watch. It feels like something clicked into place for me. There’s something in the ending that feels like exactly what I needed to hear. Sometimes life hurts you and you have to keep going. You can’t undo things no matter how hard you try and how much you wish and how hurt you are.  I wish we could ascend together, too. But we can’t. So I’ll keep going I guess.

Experiencing any form of child abuse, sexual assault, or combination of the two is uniquely devastating. Just because it is fiction doesn’t mean it is any easier to see play out on a screen in front of you. The magic in this film comes from watching Neil and Brian react so differently. Neil finds ways to accept it and justify what happened. Does he actually feel that way? Or does he just want to find a way to numb himself and move on? Meanwhile Brian is completely lost. Maybe broken. He knows something is wrong but doesn’t know what. He’s stuck in the past and inside himself. I can relate to both of these responses. Both are devastating.

There’s no question about this film being absolutely brilliant, but it’s especially fascinating to me as a part of Gregg Araki’s oeuvre. Mysterious Skin is maybe his most important film and yet it feels so foreign to me in contrast to his more crazy and eclectic features. Sure, there’s different ways to slice it. Araki isn’t shy about wanting to dissect topics such as sexual assault, aliens, and sex work in like, most of his movies, but somehow this one feels sooo different. The same shoegaze takes on an especially dissociative quality, rather than feeling like romanticized rebellion. The same close up shots of actors looking directly into the camera lack erotic intimacy and instead fill you with dread. It’s centered and focused, not indulging in much comedy at all. The script feels raw and crass at times but not in the campy way of Nowhere and The Doom Generation. I loved it. I really feel like it healed something in me, even if it was only a teeny tiny corn kernel of my own pain. I can feel things moving forward (slowly).