In a superficial world that idolizes perfection under the guise of hard work, struggle, and determination, we often see the result of success without experiencing the bumps and bruises attained along the way. We might think we know the specifics of someone’s rags-to-riches story, but when instant gratification is the new norm, the details get lost in telling the complete story.

Austin Peters’ Skincare (2024), a surprisingly effective, white-knuckle thriller, succeeds in bringing this throughline to the forefront in telling the fictional story of Los Angeles aesthetician Hope Goldman (Elizabeth Banks). Loosely based on the story of Dawn DaLuise, a celebrity facialist accused of a murder-for-hire plot against a rival aesthetician, Peters’ intertwining fable faces the complications of achieving success head-on with dynamic authenticity.

In the film, Goldman finds herself between a rock and a hard place under the heat lamp of 2013 Hollywood. She operates a successful beauty spa, but as she begins to transition into launching her own line of skincare products, she struggles to pay the rent. The cracks and blemishes of Goldman’s life are held together by the unflinching support of her assistant (Michaela Jaé Rodriguez) and her hopes of landing a spot on LA’s hottest morning show (co-hosted by Nathan Fillion) to promote her line.

The assumed imminence of mainstream success starts to peek through, only to be halted by a rival aesthetician, Angel Vergara (Luis Gerardo Méndez), who swoops in on her territory across the street. Goldman attempts to make nice and offers to collaborate, but Angel has no interest in waving a white flag yet. Not even two minutes later, Goldman flees the rival business with her peace offering of facial products in tow. The battle is underway.

If that wasn’t enough, Goldman finds herself under fire from a stalker. Heavy-breathing phone calls are a regularity, and she’s sent videos of herself walking around the open windows of her LA residence. Worst of all, her email is hacked, and a risqué email is sent to all 5,000 contacts in her address book. Much of the harassment that Goldman experiences is rooted in misogyny and external perception, as her stalker plays the superficiality of her clientele against her.

The many looming figures and complicated threads in Goldman’s world keep the film’s suspense palpable, and the audience never quite knows who to trust. Just as we begin to hypothesize who’s behind Goldman’s unraveling, another suspicious figure enters the frame to wreak havoc. It’s this surprisingly sharp narrative that gives Skincare a sense of efficiency that never halts.

Comparisons to similar female-driven psychological thrillers are easy to make, such as The Girl on the Train (2016) or Unsane (2018), but I found myself wrapped up in the magnetism of Goldman’s struggle to “make it” in her industry.

Not unlike the feverish intensity of Uncut Gems’ (2019) Howard Ratner, Skincare’s greatest throughline is the hope of attaining the “American Dream.” The allure of “just doing x, y, and z, and THEN I’ll be happy” follows Goldman as she navigates her daily operations. New threads present themselves, and the stalker looks to systematically ruin her career. There’s a lot to keep track of, but Skincare strikes a solid balance between delivering a consistent, thrilling experience and remaining accessible.

Much of the connective tissue in Peters’ vision is well-executed. Reminiscent of Rachel McAdams in Red Eye (2005) or Jodie Foster in Flightplan (2003), Banks is the glue that holds this film together with a committed performance and defined characterization that gives the film distinction amongst its contemporaries.

The supporting cast all have individual moments to make impressions that linger past their initial set-ups, leaving the audience guessing who is behind her demise. Fillion, especially, shines in his role as a deceptively supportive news anchor with intentions of his own.

Most of the technical aspects of Skincare amplify the movie, too, especially its eye-popping color correction, symmetrical cinematography, and haunting score by Fatima Al Qadiri. The score, in particular, pulses and pounds as the anxiety of Goldman’s unraveling intensifies, adding to the atmosphere that Peters conveys. Admittedly, the mixing of the score drowns out the dialogue of some of the more intense moments, but in correcting that, the audience risks losing the film’s dominating presence. It’s an instance of Catch-22, but it ends up working in the film’s favor.

The ultimate beauty of Skincare is the film’s ability to operate on multiple bases. Whether audiences are after a stalker-centric thriller, an ensemble exploration of Los Angeles’ maligned beauty, or an intriguing character study diving into the American Dream’s unseen horror stories, Skincare finds a way to deliver on all fronts.

Review Courtesy of Landon Defever

Feature Image Credit to IFC Films via IMDB