Sunshine noir and the girlboss nightmare — Austin Peters on ‘Skincare’
Just as The Substance had us squirming about beauty’s dark side, along comes Skincare to dissect another corner of the industry’s underbelly. Skincare is a kind of sunshine-y film noir — one that transports us to the not-so-distant past of 2013, when wellness was queen and social media still felt like the great democratizer. Elizabeth Banks leads as Hope Goldman, a Hollywood facialist whose perfectly curated world cracks when a rival sets up shop across the street. She inhabits a character who’s, as the film’s director Austin Peters put it, “both a victim and a perpetrator.”
Peters, who cut his teeth directing for Haim and Bastille before his Sundance hit Give Me Future, brings a distinctly LA eye to the project. Working with production designer Liz Tunkel, they poured over Architectural Digest magazines to capture that specific moment when “pink neons and green walls” signalled cutting-edge taste. It’s a deliciously uncomfortable time capsule of “girlboss” culture at its peak — when we were at “the precipice of a fever pitch”, as the director put it himself.
HUNGER sat down with the Skincare director amidst the film’s digital release to discuss the rise and fall of “girlboss” culture, capturing 2013’s zeitgeist and working with the composer behind Atlantics, Fatima Al Qadiri.
Amber Rawlings: Your work often has a dreamy, timeless quality. How did you apply that style to the very specific worlds of L.A. aestheticians?
Austin Peters: It created an interesting creative friction, as the 2013 aesthetician world didn’t naturally align with my personal aesthetic or the way I would typically decorate a space. It was an exciting challenge — trying to shoot these glossy spaces while presenting them in a way that felt aesthetically genuine and aligned with the film’s darker, grittier tone. It was a kind of push and pull.
AR: The film touches on that “girlboss” culture of the early 2010s. What drew you to explore that particular moment in time? Do you think it still resonates today?
AP: It was the script that initially drew me in because it felt both contemporary and classic — there were some noir characteristics, too. It follows someone struggling and making increasingly poor decisions. Being crushed by their economic situation and becoming the architect of their own destruction. It was interesting seeing these noir archetypes placed within the beauty industrial complex. And 2013 was particularly significant. It was just ten years ago, but that feels like a lifetime. 2013 marked the rise of celebrity facialists, beauty influencers, and how social media transformed the self into a brand. It felt optimistic then — we thought the sky was the limit and we weren’t fully aware of the darkness that would emerge from this pursuit of personal branding. It was on the precipice of a fever pitch that we couldn’t have foreseen, and I think that’s particularly relevant to today’s culture.
AR: How did your experience directing music videos and documentaries shape your approach to this film?
AP: I think it helped me understand limitations. Making music videos, where there’s never enough time or money, parallels independent filmmaking’s constraints. It’s just on a bigger scale. Having that same background helped Chris Ripley [Skincare’s cinematographer] too. Being able to work small, tactical, and committed to completion is crucial in independent film.
AR: The colour palettes in the different salons seem to reflect the characters. How closely did you work with your production design team on that aspect?
AP: We worked very closely with production designer Liz Tunkel. Early in prep, we studied about twenty-five Architectural Digest magazines from 2012-2013, along with references like Kate Somerville, who was the first celebrity facialist. Each space needed to reflect different moments in time and culture. Hope’s space represents old-school, classic aesthetician style, while Angel’s embodies what was cutting edge in 2013 — it was actually a bit inspired by Miley Cyrus’s Bangers album. Those green walls and pink neons. That aesthetic – though it’s dated now – was chosen to feel shocking. It was meant to be alien to Hope’s traditional sensibilities.
AR: The soundscape is quite striking, even from the opening scene. Can you talk about your collaboration with Fatima Al Qadiri?
AP: We wanted the music to reflect the experience of living in Los Angeles, where every space has its own soundtrack. There’s spa music, there’s Seventies rock, there’s bars with the top forty playing. It’s a sonic variety that captures the vastness of Los Angeles, where different lives coexist while being unaware of each other. Working with Fatima was intense, though. We started around Thanksgiving and worked for six weeks, constantly communicating about cues and feedback. And the score transforms halfway through the film, which reflectsHope’s mental state. It begins feminine and delicate – all these harp sounds – then evolves into darker club and trance music as she becomes more paranoid.
AR: Elizabeth Banks brings such depth to Hope. Could you discuss your collaboration and character development?
AP: Elizabeth connected with the script’s vision immediately. She understood what we wanted the film to be. And despite her busy schedule – she was doing press for Cocaine Bear – she prepared extensively. She even learnt facial techniques from a Studio City aesthetician and practised on her family. I think it was the character’s complexity that drew her in — she’s both a victim and a perpetrator, sympathetic and repulsive simultaneously. We made a deliberate choice to present Hope as an unreliable narrator, too. It was important to never give the full story. The film is a sort of Rubik’s cube. Viewable for multiple perspectives depending on how much you trust Hope’s version of events.
Skincare is available on digital release now.
