Paolo Natale's 'Our Raised Skin' Challenges Masculinity Through Intimate Visual Poetry

Body, Power, and the Politics of Perception

When I first encountered Paolo Natale's Our Raised Skin, I was struck not just by its visual intensity but by its raw emotional honesty. The film, currently in advanced development as part of Madrid Film School's (ECAM) incubator program, is a hybrid documentary/video-essay that dares to question what we understand about male bodies and the fear of touching them — a concept as unsettling as it is profound.

"I've always been aware, ever since my childhood, that I had a problem with food. Or rather, an emotional problem that was managed through food and, consequently, a sense of the violence directed at obese bodies and all that this entails in various spheres."

— Paolo Natale

Natale's approach is deeply personal, yet universal. His exploration of how masculinity is shaped by emotional repression and physical shame — particularly around body image — resonates in a way that transcends cultural boundaries. As someone who has long believed that cinema should reflect not just the world, but also interrogate it, I found myself both challenged and captivated.

The Emotional Architecture of Masculinity

What makes Our Raised Skin so compelling is its refusal to sanitize or romanticize male pain. Natale doesn't simply tell a story; he invites us into the intimate, often traumatic, psychological landscape of men who struggle with emotional hunger — and how it manifests physically. The film explores the generational transmission of trauma through food, particularly in families where eating disorders become a way to manage emotional discomfort.

But it's not just about food. It's about power dynamics, control, and the fear of vulnerability — all core tenets of patriarchal masculinity. As Natale notes, "Softness and flaccidity are frowned upon, and there is still a great deal of silence surrounding these issues among men." This silence, he argues, is part of what allows emotional repression to fester.

Form as Content: A Cinematic Risk

Natale's decision to eschew traditional narrative filmmaking isn't a whim — it's a calculated artistic choice. He embraces the unsettling qualities of experimental documentary form, favoring imperfection over polished production values. This aesthetic approach is more than just stylistic; it's political.

"I am someone who is quite concerned about the issue of representation, cinematic formats and their use," Natale says. "I am a little tired of canonically beautiful, sharply defined images... What does an image need to have to be considered cinematic?"

By rejecting the visual hegemony of high-resolution, glossy cinematography, he's challenging the hierarchy of what's considered “cinematic” — and by extension, worthy of attention. The film's aesthetic choices are a rebellion against the commodification of beauty, and in doing so, it becomes a site for reimagining masculinity through the lens of visual empathy.

The Politics of Fat: A New Kind of Vulnerability

One of the most striking aspects of Natale's work is his unflinching examination of fat as both political and personal. He says, "Fat is something that is present in our bodies from the moment we are born until we die... It represents life itself."

In a culture where thinness is often equated with strength and control, the idea that fat itself is a form of life-affirming resilience is revolutionary. Natale uses this metaphor to challenge viewers' assumptions about what makes a body 'worthy' or 'beautiful,' offering instead a vision of male bodies — flawed, complex, and deeply human.

A Personal Journey into the Collective Unconscious

While the film is not autobiographical, it draws heavily from Natale's own family history. The generational trauma he explores — from his father to his grandfather to himself — mirrors a larger societal narrative about how men are taught to suppress emotion and control their bodies through food. This is not a personal tragedy; it's a collective reckoning.

"We tend to associate bigorexia with men," Natale explains, "All men are taught that they must achieve a certain physique in order to exert power over others — a strong body with which to capitalize on everything." The film doesn't just critique this mindset; it exposes the absurdity of it, asking us to question what we've accepted as normal.

Challenging the Canon

Natale's film is part of an emerging wave of cinematic works that reject traditional forms in favor of experimental narratives that prioritize emotional truth over industrial expectations. His project is not only a critique of how bodies are represented in cinema but also a challenge to how masculinity itself is constructed and performed.

His aesthetic philosophy — championing the imperfections of low-resolution images, blurred focus, and faded textures — is an act of rebellion against a visual canon that fetishizes control and perfection. In doing so, he opens space for more inclusive representations of male identity.

Looking Forward: The Future of Emotional Cinema

Our Raised Skin stands at the intersection of personal reflection and cultural critique. It is not just a film in development; it's a manifesto. As we grapple with shifting definitions of masculinity and emotional expression, Natale's work serves as both mirror and catalyst for change.

As ECAM continues to nurture experimental voices like his, we can look forward to a cinema that is more honest, more vulnerable, and more reflective of the complex realities of the human experience — especially when it comes to the bodies we inhabit and the emotions we suppress.

In an age where cinematic representation often falls short of emotional depth, Our Raised Skin reminds us that the most powerful films are those that don't just tell stories — they make us feel them.