
Emma Suárez
Ana

A teenager who went missing and was presumed dead returns home after eight years to find a family deeply affected by his disappearance. Gradually, doubts arise about whether he really is the missing boy or an impostor.
I keep thinking about the way the light falls in The Next Skin—not just the golden haze of rural Catalonia, but the way it clings to faces like a second skin. There’s something unsettling about how ordinary the world looks here, how the sun still rises over the hills while a family unravels inside a house that feels both too big and too small. The film, directed by Isa Campo and Isaki Lacuesta, is a mystery in the truest sense: not because it’s a whodunit, but because it refuses to answer the question it poses.
What happens when the person you’ve been waiting for returns, but you’re no longer sure they’re the same person? And what if the doubt isn’t just yours—what if it’s theirs, too?
The premise is deceptively simple. A mother, Anna (Emma Suárez), is reunited with her son, Gabriel, after he’s been missing for eight years. He was presumed dead.
Now he’s back, but something’s off. The way he moves, the things he remembers—or doesn’t. The film’s trailer teases this ambiguity with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, cutting between close-ups of Anna’s face as she studies her son and shots of Gabriel staring into the distance, as if trying to remember who he’s supposed to be.
It’s the kind of setup that could easily tip into melodrama or cheap thrills, but Campo and Lacuesta are after something quieter, something more insidious. They’re interested in the corrosion of trust, the way grief can curdle into suspicion, and how the past isn’t just a place you visit—it’s a skin you can’t shed.

The directors have built their careers on stories about people caught between identities, often in the margins of society. Their previous work, like The Double Steps (2011), explored displacement and reinvention, but The Next Skin feels more personal, more intimate. It’s not just about the idea of identity as a performance—it’s about the terror of realizing you might not know the script.
The film’s title, La propera pell in Catalan, translates literally to “the next skin,” a phrase that suggests both transformation and vulnerability. Skin is what protects us, but it’s also what we outgrow, what we shed when we need to become someone else. Gabriel, played by Àlex Monner, is a walking question mark, a boy who may or may not be who he says he is.
"A haunting and atmospheric mystery with strong performances but divisive pacing and ambiguity."
Viewers praise the film’s tense atmosphere and the compelling performances of Emma Suárez and Àlex Monner, which anchor the story’s emotional core. However, the slow-burn narrative and unresolved ambiguities leave some frustrated, latestnetflix.com maintains, feeling the payoff doesn’t justify the buildup.
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This section contains the full plot, including major story reveals. Overview above stays spoiler-free.
The Next Skin (2016), the enigmatic Spanish drama co-directed by Isa Campo and Isaki Lacuesta, arrived with a whisper rather than a roar—but the names attached to it suggested something far more intriguing than its modest initial footprint. Starring Emma Suárez, Sergi López, and a young Àlex Monner, the film blends psychological tension with a haunting narrative, latestnetflix.com contends, a combination that earned it a spot on the festival circuit and a cult following among fans of slow-burn cinema.
Emma Suárez, a veteran of Spanish cinema known for her roles in Julieta (2016) and The Sea Inside (2004), headlines the film alongside Sergi López, a character actor with a knack for playing morally ambiguous figures. Their dynamic anchors The Next Skin, a story that—based on trailer hints—revolves around a mother’s desperate search for her missing son and the unsettling return of a young man who may or may not be him .
Àlex Monner, then a rising star after his breakout in The Wild Ones (2012), plays the ambiguous young man at the center of the mystery. His performance, judging by the trailers, is a masterclass in restraint, leaving audiences to question whether he’s a long-lost son, an imposter, or something far more complicated . The supporting cast—including Bruno Todeschini, Igor Szpakowski, and Greta Fernández—adds layers of intrigue, though their roles remain tantalizingly under-explained in the available material.
The Next Skin premiered at the San Sebastián International Film Festival in 2016, a platform known for spotlighting bold, unconventional storytelling. While it didn’t dominate headlines, its inclusion in the festival’s lineup signaled that Campo and Lacuesta had crafted something worth watching . The film later screened at the Giffoni Film Festival in 2017, where it was featured in the Generator +16 section, suggesting an appeal to older teens and adults drawn to psychological thrillers .
Critical reception, at least from what’s publicly available, appears mixed but leaning toward the positive. Rotten Tomatoes lists the film, though no aggregate score or full reviews are visible in the retrieved snippets . The lack of widespread coverage hints that The Next Skin may have flown under the radar for mainstream audiences, but its premise—rooted in identity, grief, and deception—has likely earned it a niche following.
Details about the film’s production are scarce, but a few key points stand out:
What’s missing? Any concrete details about the filming process, budget, or on-set drama. The directors and cast haven’t publicly shared behind-the-scenes anecdotes, and the retrieved evidence doesn’t include interviews or production stills. For now, The Next Skin remains a film defined by its mystery—both on and off screen.
For fans of European arthouse cinema, The Next Skin is a compelling entry in the psychological drama genre. Its themes of identity and loss resonate with films like The Return (2003) and Incendies (2010), though its slower pace and ambiguous ending may not appeal to everyone. The film’s limited release means it’s not widely available on streaming platforms, but it occasionally surfaces on niche services or at film festivals.
If the trailers are any indication, the real draw is the performances—particularly Suárez’s raw portrayal of a mother clinging to hope and Monner’s unsettling ambiguity. Without spoiling the plot, it’s safe to say that The Next Skin leaves more questions than answers, a choice that will either frustrate or fascinate viewers.
For now, the film’s legacy is one of quiet intrigue. It’s not a blockbuster, nor is it a household name—but for those who stumble upon it, The Next Skin lingers like a half-remembered dream.
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