Pedro Almodóvar is back.  The Skin I Live In (La piel que habito) is a quite brilliant thriller-cum-horror film with class, a great twisting plot, incredible cinematography - it is Almodóvar after all - and more than a little moral questioning.

I went to see TSILI at my usual cinema in Ashton-under-Lyne (birthplace of World Cup winners Sir Geoff Hurst and Simone Perrotta, as I'm sure you've heard) and for the first time my oft-rehearsed but as yet never required excuse of "I'm on my own because I'm here to review the film" actually had some truth in it.

Whilst the lobby was again teeming with young people - The Inbetweeners can be the only explanation - my choice was blissfully undersubscribed and as the bizarre and the gruesome married exquisitely onscreen, four became two with a couple marching out a third of the way into the main feature.  Genuinely, if they felt uncomfortable up until that point, they would have spontaneously combusted had they stuck it out.  I guess the birthday treat of seeing a film featuring the lady's favourite Hollywood heartthrob Antonio Banderas backfired somewhat on her well-intentioned partner.