Elizabeth Banks has a face pretty much designed to be appreciated in extreme close-up.

A gifted comedienne and convincing dramatic lead with years as a talented and beautiful object of cinematic romantic desire under her belt, it’s not hard to imagine her as a Hollywood “Skincare” guru aspiring to “mogul” status, now that she has “my own line” of products “made in Italy” that promise to make you look as perfect, down to the follicles, as her.

But the dark, satiric thriller “Skincare” doesn’t come off as a thriller or satire. It’s just a slog through the downward spiral of a woman whose professional life is upended, who never considers her downfall might be a consequence of shallow goals in a superficial, high-stakes/low-importance “attention” and “beauty” culture.

The entire enterprise may turn deadly, but nothing wrestled with here gets beyond skin deep.

Allegedly “inspired” by a true story, it’s about a divorced beauty on the brink of making it, only to have it all unravel through a cascade of calamities, seemingly not of her own doing.

Hope Goldman is a Hollywood aesthetician whose Crossroads of the World shop has a few “celebrity” clients and enough promise that she’s gambled everything on starting “my own line.”

She’s landed a prime spot on a popular local morning chat show, whose co-host (Nathan Fillion, perfect), is “interested” in her. She has a devoted, gung-ho assistant (transgender performer Michaela Rodriguez) hustling up online attention and a truckload of product, ready to unload the moment “it” happens.

As we see flashing police lights in our first visit with her at a makeup mirror, painstakingly perfecting her painted on “glow,” we can guess this didn’t quite work out.

“Reputation is everything in this business,” Hope preaches. Watch what happens to hers.

A new neighbor in the once-tony courtyard mall, showing up just “a few weeks earlier” seems to be the reason. Hope Goldman Skin Care has a rival, Shimmer by Angel, right across from her years-in-the-making business.

If the landlord (John Billingsley) wants his over-due rent, maybe stabbing her in the chest like this wasn’t the best idea. This could be Hope’s ruin.

“Angel” (Luis Gerardo Méndez), pronounced with an exaggerated “An-HELL,” of course, is a pretentious poseuer who practically holds a mirror up to Hope’s life, dreams and entire aesthetic. How can she, after years of effort, be “the next big thing” when the gayer, younger, hipper version of her is visible right through her store window?

She says she isn’t worried about “the competition,” but we can see it in the tiny new lines creasing her perfect forehead.

Within hours of a grimly superficial meeting where they size each other up her email is hacked and her entire customer list is bombarded with a sexually desperate and deranged confessional “letter,” and her online profile is upended in the most explicit ways. Hope comes undone. Or rather, she thinks she knows who’s undoing her.

She calls on all her superficial feminine wiles, courting and reassuring old customers (Wendy Malick), her media “friend” Brett (Fillion), her tough, “protective” mechanic (Erik Palladino), a concerned cop (Jason Manuel Olazábal) and even the failed-actor toy-boy Jordan (Lewis Pullman) who seems interested enough to help this beauty he’s just met with her four-alarm-fire problem.

“The future of skincare” is at stake, and damned if she’ll let Angel take it from her.

Everything about Hope’s plight is as predictable as it is disheartening. You don’t have to have had hostile people or entities go after your online profile and reputation to cringe at Hope’s problems and feel her pain. But we have reason to expect more “mystery” to the mystery and more logic to how all this unravels than director and co-writer Austin Peters (“Give Me Future”) serves up.

From Hope’s perfect daily “look” — highlights, blowout, chic suits and makeup — to her “How hip am I? I hired a transgender receptionist” “positioning,” nothing about the character is laudable beyond her pluck and chutzpah. “Made in Italy?” Sure. “Invested everything,” but in “what” that’s worthwhile? Outside of the Hollywood bubble, I mean?

Love Banks, who never fails to deliver fair value. But this is more of a good idea for a film than a vehicle for a tour de force turn.

“Skincare” sets us up for something dark and scintillating, a sinister descent into desperation. But it’s as frustrating as a fresh wedding day zit, and sadly, about as inconsequential.

Rating: R, violence, drug use, sexual content, nudity and profanity

Cast: Elizabeth Banks, Nathan Fillion, Michaela Rodriguez, Lewis Pullman and Luis Gerardo Méndez

Credits: Directed by Austin Peters, scripted by Sam Freilich, Austin Peters and
 Deering Regan. An IFC release.

Running time: 1:34