Scarlett Johansson is an alien on the prowl in the unsettling Under the Skin

Scarlett Johansson is a sex symbol. To some (to many) she is best known for her voluptuous figure, her striking features, her mesmerizing gaze, and her rich, moody voice. Johansson’s staring role in Jonathan Glazer’s new sci-fi film, Under the Skin, allows her to harness these inherent physical allures as she seduces men across Scotland’s somber landscapes.

However, Johansson’s supernatural performance demonstrates that there is definitely something more under her skin. She expresses a breadth of emotion that perfectly balances Glazer’s ethereal imagery. Within the film’s sparse dialogue and loose narrative structure, Johansson carries the story to an otherworldly plane. She captivates both the men she encounters throughout the film, as well as the viewing audience, with a depth more profound than her physical prowess.

Johansson plays Laura, an extraterrestrial inhabiting the body of a beautiful dark-haired woman. Laura roams Glasgow’s city streets and the Scottish highlands in a large white van, preying on drifting men whom are often walking along the desolate roadsides.  Sometimes she has short conversations with them, exchanging niceties and asking questions. Other times, she picks them up, and drives them to an unknown location with the implied promise of a sexual encounter. In the latter case, Laura greets the men with a mating ritual that turns into an elaborate killing technique. She lures her captives into a murky, oily substance wherein she removes their insides, leaving their skin to float like a freshly popped balloon.

Glazer and Walker Campbell adapted the screenplay for Under the Skin from Michel Faber’s novel of the same name. However, the context supplied by Faber’s novel is absent in Glazer and Campbell adaptation. Lacking a distinctive narrative structure, there is no explanation of who Laura is, where she comes from, or what her intentions are. There is little dialogue throughout the film, and Laura’s conversations with the several nameless men appear improvised. In fact, many of these scenes were improvised.

Instead of hiring actors, Glazer had Johansson drive around Glasgow and approach strangers. Johansson asks these bystanders the questions we watch Laura ask. This remarkable technique gives these scenes a raw, charmingly awkward quality. Laura is straightforward with her questions; we see the men pause, blush and collect their thoughts. She is a stranger in a strange land, and it is palpable in these scenes. Her soft English accent contrasts with the reality of the harsh Scottish drawl. A narrative slowly forms as we follow alongside Laura, quietly observing the streets from her van and waiting for the next victim.

A striking feature of Under the Skin is its use of sound. Not only does the sound emphasize the unmistakable discomfort that Glazer achieves through his content and imagery, but it also helps to create a narrative structure for the audience to follow in the film’s overall disjointed logic.

As Laura sits and surveys the city, we hear a resonance associated with technology, a dial-up tone, a hum. Dialogue happening in close proximity to Laura is nonsensical, abrasive and clumsy. The effect continues to disconnect her from her skin, her humanity. Laura communicates her actions with a musicality. Rhythmic strings fluctuate, ranging from soft and tender, to tense and taut. We eventually associate certain sound cues with her mating (murdering) ritual, and can infer what will happen through sound cues only, without the death shown on screen.

The film works well to undermine our conventional strategies of creating meaning. Laura does not share our biology, or social outlook; yet, we are still able to empathize with her character. This is, in part, due to Johansson’s performance. Laura’s eyes fixate on the unknown distance, and we interpret it as melancholy. Her eyes glaze over, and we interpret it as menace. She displays tenderness with her victims. Laura moves through encounters with the human world and her sensibility changes. The film progresses and she attempts to understand humanity. She tries to do as they do, to feel as they feel. However, Glazer always reminds us that Laura is not one of us, not of us.

From the opening sequence, to the final scenes, we are shrouded in a veil of mystery, picking at scraps to answer who anyone is, or what they might signify; we float through the film, carried by rhythm, by light, and by Johansson’s lost and searching eyes. Glazer’s focus is Johansson’s face; it helps to ground us, but keeps us forever separate.

This film is not to be missed, even if just to watch Johansson work her magic.