March 6, 1989 | Skin Deep is Blake Edwards’ new and greatly improved version of The Man Who Loved Women, his less-than-successful 1983 remake of Francois Truffaut’s comedy of romantic obsession.
This time, Edwards has enhanced the familiar story with more than a touch of his own Days of Wine and Roses (1962), suggesting two things: First, that he’s trying to make amends after treating alcoholism for laughs in Blind Date; second, that Edwards, who has been in therapy almost as long as Woody Allen, recognizes the links between alcohol and sexual addiction.
Taken as a whole, the movie itself suggests something perhaps even more important: Even when he’s dealing with serious subjects, Edwards still can make an audience laugh with some of the best-timed sight gags in contemporary cinema.
The comic highlights of Skin Deep include our hero’s amazed reaction to the undraped shape of his latest one-night stand, a female bodybuiler, and his convulsed recovery from a high-voltage rejuvenation technique. Best of all, there is a priceless scene involving a darkened room, a beautiful woman, two randy men, and condoms that glow in the dark. (You think I’m making that up, don’t you?) It’s almost funny enough to make you forgive Edwards for A Fine Mess.
In the lead role of Zach, a blocked writer who can’t stop drinking or chasing younger women, John Ritter (of TV’s Three’s Company and Hooperman) is a singularly graceful farceur, lunging and pratfalling with the frantic nimbleness of a man for whom everything, and everyone, is suddenly out of control. It is no small compliment to say Ritter is very near the equal of Dudley Moore in 10 — not coincidentally, another Blake Edwards movie about a skirt-chasing celebrity beset by midlife crises.
Skin Deep begins with a bang as Zach’s latest mistress catches Zach in bed with her hairdresser. “What can I say?” Zach says with a shrug, trying to ignore the revolver in his mistress’ hand. Without missing a beat, the mistress replies: “How about, ‘The Lord is my shepherd’?”
The gun goes off, repeatedly, without fatal consequences, just in time to be overheard by Alex (Alyson Reed), Zach’s wife. Alex, weary of her husband’s infidelities, tosses Zach’s typewriter into the swimming pool, and throws Zach out the front door.
Can this marriage be saved? The question pains Zach, who seeks advice from his brittle-witted psychiatrist (Michael Kidd) and support from his friendly bartender (Vincent Gardenia). More often, though, he seeks new sexual conquests, even when he’s barely sober enough to — well, to be carried into bed.
Not surprisingly, Zach, a Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, cannot write anymore. There’s a good reason for this, which Zach ignores (or denies) for as long as his stamina holds out.
Even with a thick beard, Ritter looks a bit young to be playing a man afflicted with the middle-age crazies. Still, Ritter manages to give Zach’s compulsive womanizing a compelling edge of not-so-quiet desperation, as some very insistent intimations of mortality take their toll on his self-assurance.
Indeed, Ritter proves so adept at making the transition from debauchery to depression, it’s all the more disappointing when Edwards cops out with a rosy, and rushed, happy ending. Skin Deep has a good deal more depth than its title implies, and manages to mix some sobering observations in with its frisky bawdiness and spirited physical comedy. In the end, though, Edwards backs away from his story’s darker implications.
That’s a pity, because, despite a few slow stretches and Edwards’ last-minute failure of nerve, Skin Deep is a solid and satisfying comedy-drama. The supporting roles are well cast — Vincent Gardenia is particularly impressive — and the observations about compulsive behavior are made with intelligent wit.
And, yes, Zach’s women are every bit as beautiful as they are supposed to be.
