As soon as the movie begins, Marieke, the protagonist in Esther Rots' unsettling and raw debut feature Can go through skin, suffers two huge blows that would change anyone's life. First her boyfriend breaks up with her; then, a pizza-delivery boy breaks into her house out of the blue and nearly drowns her in the bathtub. Unforeseen, ungrounded violence looms large from the very outset; tension, already palpable, will continue to build up throughout the movie.
In many ways, Esther Rots' close, sharp psychological study of a woman combating the loss of balance and attempting to regain strength for life has much in common with the strain of social realism that characterises the work of Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne. Like Rosetta in Rosetta, or Lorna in The Silence of Lorna, Marieke stands for victims that society has wronged or marginalised in one way or another and then left behind. While the attacker gets an unfairly mild sentence, nobody is there to help her, at least not in Amsterdam, and so she leaves, moves into a derelict house in rural Zeeland and struggles to piece her life back together, hoping for a fresh start. But the omnipresent, all-seeing hand-held camera, operated here to great effect on a par with the Dardennes' technique, clearly betrays how shaken Marieke still is.
And so she remains for quite some time, too immobilised and damaged to renovate her house, get proper draining, keep warm, or even eat right. It seems all she does is drink red wine to distract herself from her woes, or attend midnight chat forums to hear fellow victims share their stories. Marieke's apparent disorientation and inability to get a grip on her life reflect the enduring effects of her trauma, but from a certain point on, her withdrawn, pessimistic attitude that is self-defeating becomes apparent. This is when a viewer's empathy likely morphs into disapproval and the sight of her messy living environment with its piles of unwashed dishes starts to get under one's skin.
If an oppressive tone and a repulsive environment are among Esther Rots' tools to depict a victim's scarred psychology, then the dream/ fantasy sequences that punctuate the main narrative and show how Marieke would hurt her attacker add an explosive edge to the director's intentions. Jolting jump cuts, flash backs and a jarring soundtrack teeming with scratching, knocking, slapping noises only push the movie's emotionally exhausting nature to the next level.
Esther Rots does provide some reprieve by showing how Marieke slowly but cautiously returns to social life and develops a relationship with the friendly, down-to-earth neighbour, John. There are signs of a burgeoning love life and a return to normality, as Marieke becomes pregnant and John renovates her house and moves in with her and the two start a family. Only Marieke will never return from the brink of breakdown.
Observant, carefully shot and convincingly play by all, Can go through skin paints a tactile picture of pain, angst and vengeance that is often upsetting and hard to stomach. While it does not go into the politics of victimisation, it does side with Marieke as the victim and can, in this regard, come across as imbalanced in that it condones Marieke's indolent attitude as well as her latent aggression. The movie can also seem didactic and harsh to some for its unnerving, pungent undertone. But this is also where its brilliance lies: by pulling no punches when it comes to showing the hell Marieke has to go through, this movie makes us fear.
