In 2014 alone, David Cronenberg has released three films. Consumed and The Nest, both short films, and the star-studded but ultimately disappointing feature film Maps to the Stars. The short films are a throwback to Cronenberg's forte, but his last three films have been unsatisfying, a sad state for one of the best directors of modern horror.
I was first introduced to Cronenberg through Dead Ringers (1988)- the scandalously challenging thriller following a pair of identical twin gynecologists- and was hooked. For those of you who do not know the story Dead Ringers was based on, in July 1975, twin brothers Cyril and Stewart Marcus were found dead in their New York apartment- the victims of a severe barbiturate withdrawal. It was a story that shocked many, as the brothers were respected gynecologists, but caught the particular attention of Cronenberg. The film nearly didn't make it it to theaters- but when you're pitching a movie about this kind of dystopian ooze, you can expect a few pitfalls. When the De Laurentiis Group's faith in the film began to wane, they removed themselves as financial backers, but Cronenberg, determined to see the finished product, started his own production company. In 1988, it was finally released with only one other alteration to the original plan. The film, originally titled Twins, was now called Dead Ringers. Jeremy Irons is stunning as both Beverly and Elliot Mantle, the twins that share everything, including women, until it comes to the sybaritic actress Claire (Geneviéve Bujold). What follows is a downward spiral so disturbing and bizarre that it would be an injustice to name the slight details that make it brilliant- despite the ending already having been revealed. Though Irons is the crux of the film, depicting each twin in a different way, exploiting their weaknesses and capitalizing on their flaws, the film is one of Cronenberg's best. It's more muted than the well-loved Videodrome, and this works to his advantage. There are certainly stomach-twisting scenes, usually involving foreign medical instruments, but the lack of buckets of blood makes it closer to the real story- all the more chilling.
Dead Ringers is in the middle of the David Cronenberg golden age that spans nearly 25 years, bookended by Videodrome (1983) and Eastern Promises (2007). The penultimate film of this era, A History of Violence, is his magnum opus. For true fans of the filmmaker, this statement may raise eyebrows- it is his most mainstream film- but just because A History is a more muted version of Cronenberg does not mean it is any less him.
Tom Stall (our shy hero, played by Viggo Mortensen) is the owner to a homestyle diner in a quiet Indiana town. He's what you picture when someone mentions the phrase "family man", married to lawyer Edie (Maria Bello) with two young kids. He's wholesome. It seems unfair to spoil Tom's secret for those of you who haven't seen the movie, so if that's you, stop reading now- it's impossible to look at the film without mentioning this bit. The man we've been built up to like so much is not actually Tom at all- he's Joey, a gangster who had dealings with the Irish Mob. He's fled to Indiana in an attempt to start a new life, but the publicity from his heroics while defending the restaurant have made that impossible. The film follows his path between Tom and Joey, and the slow, but eventual acceptance granted to him by his family. There's no doubt that a betrayal like this will strain any relationship, but was it done out of love and protective instincts, or was it just a lie the entire time? Where you can usually expect surrealistic gore in a Cronenberg feature, A History brings incredible emotional depth. While often criticized for its explicit content, the graphic sex and violence scenes are used as a vehicle for plot, and they are not randomly placed. Truly, no image is wasted. At its heart, this is a movie about truth, redemption, and the inheritance of violence.
I was first introduced to Cronenberg through Dead Ringers (1988)- the scandalously challenging thriller following a pair of identical twin gynecologists- and was hooked. For those of you who do not know the story Dead Ringers was based on, in July 1975, twin brothers Cyril and Stewart Marcus were found dead in their New York apartment- the victims of a severe barbiturate withdrawal. It was a story that shocked many, as the brothers were respected gynecologists, but caught the particular attention of Cronenberg. The film nearly didn't make it it to theaters- but when you're pitching a movie about this kind of dystopian ooze, you can expect a few pitfalls. When the De Laurentiis Group's faith in the film began to wane, they removed themselves as financial backers, but Cronenberg, determined to see the finished product, started his own production company. In 1988, it was finally released with only one other alteration to the original plan. The film, originally titled Twins, was now called Dead Ringers. Jeremy Irons is stunning as both Beverly and Elliot Mantle, the twins that share everything, including women, until it comes to the sybaritic actress Claire (Geneviéve Bujold). What follows is a downward spiral so disturbing and bizarre that it would be an injustice to name the slight details that make it brilliant- despite the ending already having been revealed. Though Irons is the crux of the film, depicting each twin in a different way, exploiting their weaknesses and capitalizing on their flaws, the film is one of Cronenberg's best. It's more muted than the well-loved Videodrome, and this works to his advantage. There are certainly stomach-twisting scenes, usually involving foreign medical instruments, but the lack of buckets of blood makes it closer to the real story- all the more chilling.
Dead Ringers is in the middle of the David Cronenberg golden age that spans nearly 25 years, bookended by Videodrome (1983) and Eastern Promises (2007). The penultimate film of this era, A History of Violence, is his magnum opus. For true fans of the filmmaker, this statement may raise eyebrows- it is his most mainstream film- but just because A History is a more muted version of Cronenberg does not mean it is any less him.
Tom Stall (our shy hero, played by Viggo Mortensen) is the owner to a homestyle diner in a quiet Indiana town. He's what you picture when someone mentions the phrase "family man", married to lawyer Edie (Maria Bello) with two young kids. He's wholesome. It seems unfair to spoil Tom's secret for those of you who haven't seen the movie, so if that's you, stop reading now- it's impossible to look at the film without mentioning this bit. The man we've been built up to like so much is not actually Tom at all- he's Joey, a gangster who had dealings with the Irish Mob. He's fled to Indiana in an attempt to start a new life, but the publicity from his heroics while defending the restaurant have made that impossible. The film follows his path between Tom and Joey, and the slow, but eventual acceptance granted to him by his family. There's no doubt that a betrayal like this will strain any relationship, but was it done out of love and protective instincts, or was it just a lie the entire time? Where you can usually expect surrealistic gore in a Cronenberg feature, A History brings incredible emotional depth. While often criticized for its explicit content, the graphic sex and violence scenes are used as a vehicle for plot, and they are not randomly placed. Truly, no image is wasted. At its heart, this is a movie about truth, redemption, and the inheritance of violence.
Unfortunately, the film immediately following A History of Violence, Eastern Promises (which Roger Ebert considered to be his best), was the last of the great Cronenberg movies. A Dangerous Method (2011) is unremarkable enough, not good enough to be included in the golden age, but not bad enough to merit comment either. Cosmopolis (2012), is the real offender. Based on the novel of the same name by Don DeLillo, it's easy to imagine how the plot would work in a novel, not much happens and not much is said, but internal monologue could fix that easily. Too bad for Cronenberg that his film lacks that entirely. |
It's not a bad premise. Eric Packer (Robert Pattinson), the 28 year-old billionaire, drives across near-future Manhattan on the way to his barber. He has marital problems with his wife Elise (Sarah Gadon), and placates his frustration from a day of bad trading and the refusal of sex by sleeping with two other women. Strangely, the news that there is a threat against his life does not add to his stress, he is cool about it, if only on the surface. It all ends on an ambiguous note as Eric is faced with his assassin, but the ambiguity doesn't do the film any favors. Where A History of Violence excelled in its well-executed suspense, Cosmopolis only feels labored and heavy-handed. The dialogue is chiefly to blame. It's as if someone took passages from the book and simply stuck quotation marks on each end, with no regard to pacing or natural flow. And unfortunately, this stream of verbal diarrhea never relents. Cronenberg excels when he uses his cold direction to take an objective look at the human condition, dissecting emotions and basic instincts. The coldness in Cosmopolis is alienating, and doesn't fit the type of talkative movie at all. When you look in the eyes of Pattinson, Binoche, and even Giamatti, there is no life behind their eyes. It's a dead film. Cronenberg is out of his element, and it shows.
His most recent feature-length film, Maps to the Stars, was what I first hoped was a chance at redemption. It may be his most star-studded movie to date, with actors like Julianne Moore, John Cusack, Mia Wasikowska, and Robert Pattinson gracing the cast list. I was lucky enough to see an advance showing of this film, but was left feeling disappointed when the credits began to roll. It's the story of celebrity obsession, focusing on an archetypical Hollywood dynasty known as the Weiss Family. The main plot focuses on Agatha, the disfigured pyromaniac daughter to the Weiss family, and her relationship with fading actress Havana Segrand. There's also child star Benjie in the mix, managed by his overbearing mother and his father, an exploitative TV psychologist. In a way, it's almost the perfect companion piece to the latest film Antiviral by David Cronenberg's son, Brandon Cronenberg. Both focus on the unhealthy preoccupation Americans have with celebrity and the lengths they will go to to keep their connection the famous strong and close. What's interesting about Maps, however, is that the lead performances are quite good- Moore is particularly wicked as Havana. But the sum of the parts is less than the whole, and subtlety is nowhere to be found. Symbolism is rampant, but too blunt to have any effect. One of the first shots is a burned down ruin just below the Hollywood sign- showing that the air of perfection is just a façade. And once again, dialogue proves to be problem for Cronenberg, but this time it's not due to the length, it's due to the melodrama. While sometimes the over-the-top quality of it all works with in context of the theme of loss of control, at times it goes too far and becomes ridiculous, encouraging laughter from the audience. It's clear what Cronenberg is aiming for- a 21st century version of the lasting classic Sunset Boulevard, but it just falls short in so many ways. Havana is no Norma, and Cronenberg is no Wilder.
It's a mystery what went wrong between 2007 and 2011 when it came to writing dialogue, causing the ultimate failure in Cronenberg's new movies, but one of the clear turning points is when the director chose to abandon well-built suspense and dystopian thrills for audience appeal and self-satisfaction. His films often come off as sterile and cold, but this attribute could be utilized once again to take a desensitized approach to examine humans with needle-like precision. He always has something unique and cerebral to offer his audience, but his latest movies are no doubt lower in overall quality. I eagerly await his return to greatness.
His most recent feature-length film, Maps to the Stars, was what I first hoped was a chance at redemption. It may be his most star-studded movie to date, with actors like Julianne Moore, John Cusack, Mia Wasikowska, and Robert Pattinson gracing the cast list. I was lucky enough to see an advance showing of this film, but was left feeling disappointed when the credits began to roll. It's the story of celebrity obsession, focusing on an archetypical Hollywood dynasty known as the Weiss Family. The main plot focuses on Agatha, the disfigured pyromaniac daughter to the Weiss family, and her relationship with fading actress Havana Segrand. There's also child star Benjie in the mix, managed by his overbearing mother and his father, an exploitative TV psychologist. In a way, it's almost the perfect companion piece to the latest film Antiviral by David Cronenberg's son, Brandon Cronenberg. Both focus on the unhealthy preoccupation Americans have with celebrity and the lengths they will go to to keep their connection the famous strong and close. What's interesting about Maps, however, is that the lead performances are quite good- Moore is particularly wicked as Havana. But the sum of the parts is less than the whole, and subtlety is nowhere to be found. Symbolism is rampant, but too blunt to have any effect. One of the first shots is a burned down ruin just below the Hollywood sign- showing that the air of perfection is just a façade. And once again, dialogue proves to be problem for Cronenberg, but this time it's not due to the length, it's due to the melodrama. While sometimes the over-the-top quality of it all works with in context of the theme of loss of control, at times it goes too far and becomes ridiculous, encouraging laughter from the audience. It's clear what Cronenberg is aiming for- a 21st century version of the lasting classic Sunset Boulevard, but it just falls short in so many ways. Havana is no Norma, and Cronenberg is no Wilder.
It's a mystery what went wrong between 2007 and 2011 when it came to writing dialogue, causing the ultimate failure in Cronenberg's new movies, but one of the clear turning points is when the director chose to abandon well-built suspense and dystopian thrills for audience appeal and self-satisfaction. His films often come off as sterile and cold, but this attribute could be utilized once again to take a desensitized approach to examine humans with needle-like precision. He always has something unique and cerebral to offer his audience, but his latest movies are no doubt lower in overall quality. I eagerly await his return to greatness.
Defining Cronenberg Shots (Spoilers Ahead)
There's merit to analyzing a director's work, but it can't compare to simply experiencing it first hand.
The Head Explosion (Scanners, 1981)
This scene is why David Cronenberg is sometimes referred to as the Baron of Blood, and Scanners is the movie that put him on the map. It's a little bit Raider-of-the-Lost-Ark-y (which came out the same year, coincidentally), but it's Croneneberg through and through.
The Tattoo Ceremony (Eastern Promises, 2007)
On the other side of the coin, the scene depicting Nikolai's tattoo ceremony is understated and nuanced. It's beautiful, even- or perhaps especially- without subtitles. The stars being inked on his knees represent that he will bow to no man.
Mutant Women (Dead Ringers, 1988)
I consider this to be Cronenberg's most beautiful scene. Most of the film's color palette is dominated by varying shades of gray, but this scene is the stunning exception. Beverly's surgeon outfit is like a cross between a priest and a doctor, and the disturbing tools only add to the overall feeling of tension and unease.