1995 Directed by Chris Newby
This is the story of Harry and Flint, an unlikely couple. Harry is a shy young gay man who can't seem to fit into his local bar scene. Flint is a crusty, older, and seemingly straight man with a questionable background. They meet on a gorgeous coastline, and evolve from distrust to deep love.
UK15
UK
It’s like someone took the framing narrative of the illustrated man and infused it with shades of Querelle (the dream??? You can’t tell me that wasn’t a homage). But it’s also kind of a sweet comedy with both poetic figurative shots and Microsoft PowerPoint wipe transitions. at one point one of the men tries on the other’s dressing gown. Kind of perfect for me* and ummm new comfort film methinks
*couldve done without the beans on toast and the toe(?)nail. And the opening 10 or so minutes don’t quite work for me but whatever
Wearing an enormous burgundy birthmark like a symbol of his suicidal shame, a dejected John Hannah flees to the sea and shacks up with a salty old con who snacks on broken lightbulbs. One of them doesn't want to live and the other has been left for dead on the beach. Chris Newby's uniquely vibrant and endlessly inventive Madagascar Skin sports an agreeably stubborn refusal to conform that deserves a reappraisal and I wish I could just be a single cell in the organism that helps it find the wider audience it deserves. In 1995 it's singularity couldn't carry it past the need for extra careful handling and oodles of luck.
From the undulating muscular curves of the stylized gay…
Full of mealy, grimy beauty, Madagascar Skin is a total joy of a film that moves with surreal poeticism, anchored in emotional and mythic logic.
Harry has a birthmark like a headwound, skin he wants to peel like wallpaper. Flint might be a pirate, or poseidon, or just a scaffolder – either way, he starts off buried like treasure, or a corpse.
Things are always erupting forth: a head stretched through a lover's shirt; a car cased in seaweed like a womb; belongings thrown through yawning windows; skin spilling out of a balaclava; sea animals burst from their membranes; a lover dug out of the sand and swelling tide.
Saltiness, an open maw, slimy knuckles – it's an incredibly sensory…
Such a modest yet whimsical, life-affirming and soulful dream for the loners. He’s the forgotten island and his older partner is the sea (sailor in the fantasy, window cleaner in real life, does it really matter?). Leaving the civilized world. “I’m happy”, Harry whispers to himself as he is soaking in a mossy bathtub of an abandoned house prepared by Flint. The feeling of yearning and the fear of rejection are aching, even a little bit too real, too desperate. Every touch feels unbearably fragile and gentle yet so overwhelming and expressive. One searches for the other in the wind blowing through the forest at dark. Passionate sex in the stormy night with only a small lamp to look carefully…
to absolutely cut and run from your life read some moby dick and then bunk in an empty cottage with a hot tattooed guy who fits right into your seaman fantasies. perfection
there’s no talking in the first thirteen minutes, which, combined with a club scene, is pretty off-putting, but the last forty-five minutes may constitute the most pleasant film I’ve ever seen
Wouldn’t have known about this if I hadn’t asked the question: is four weddings and a funeral John Hannah’s only good movie? Well Madagascar Skin and the last movie I watched which I also had never heard of otherwise bump the number of good John Hannah movies up to at least 3
