Some artists ––– oh, say, Leonardo Da Vinci —— are known for their discipline and concentration. Consider the number of sketches he made for a horse statue that was never completed. Others, however, have taken the tack that to be an artist or an intellectual, you must somehow be undisciplined, clueless, and/or completely self-absorbed. THOSE are the kind Hollywood likes. After you’ve been awed by Leonardo at the High’s Hand of the Genius exhibition at our 12-hour artfest Go All Night, why not visit with some of his lesser brethren?

Eleanor Ringel Cater’s picks:

Barton Fink

Barton Fink (1991)

Leave it to the brothers Coen to come up with something as hilariously berserk and mind-teasingly perverse as this surreal black comedy about (of all things) writer’s block. A High-minded New York playwright, Barton Fink (John Turturro) is lured to 1941 Hollywood to give “that Barton Fink feeling” to a Wallace Beery wrestling movie. On one level, the film is about Fink’s Day-of-the-Locust encounters with moguls, producers and washed-up self-loathing Southern writers who’ve sold out to the flicks. But then there’s also the Earle, the hotel where Barton is holed up to write his masterpiece. A hotel worthy of The Shining, it’s also home to genial traveling salesman, John Goodman, who’s got stories to tell. LOTS of ‘em. The picture is a brainy goof, fleshed out by the brilliant performances, the rich production design and the Coen’s ever-clever camera. It’s as bleakly funny and tantalizingly obtuse as a Beckett on-act. I’ll give you the life of the mind…..

Naked Lunch (1991)

It will eat you alive if you’re not well-versed in the coded cool of Beat junkie icon, William S. Burroughs, or the insect-infected visions of director David Cronenberg (The Fly). And even if you are, this mercilessly exacting black comedy will leave its teeth marks on you.

Part biography, part literary adaptation, the film is less a literal rendering of the writer’s scandalous 1959 novel than a jazz-riff interpretation. Turning down the role of Robocop 3 (!), Peter Weller is the Burroughs surrogate who travels from 1953 New York to the Interzone — a kind of surreal Tangiers of the mind, populated by sweaty addicts, decadent ex-patriots and typewriters that mutate into giant talking bugs. However, those less than enthralled with Burroughs’ masturbatory self-infatuation may find this daring demanding picture something of a Pyrrhic victory. That is, more worthily done, perhaps, than worth doing.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)

Too much is never enough for fabled gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson and director Terry Gilliam. You could almost say they are a match made in excess heaven (or hell). This is Hollywood’s second attempt to translate Thompson’s 1971 book about his drug-drenched trip to Vegas, the first being the rather abysmal Where the Buffalo Roam, starring a game Bill Murray.

Here, it’s the ever-unpredictable Johnny Depp who takes on the role of Raoul Duke (Thompson’s alter-ego) and a chunked-up pre-Oscar Benicio Del Toro plays Dr. Gonzo, Duke’s lawyer/companion-in-chaos. The assignment — as if it matters — is a dirt-bike race. Their true quest is to ingest every kind of “uppers, downers, screamers, laughers” they can find. Plus several oceans of booze. However, like most drug experiences, the film has a downside, too. Barely making it out of Vegas alive the first time, they’re dragged back in (like Pacino in Godfather III) for another round of the same thing.

Still, Depp is astonishing, Joe Coker by way of John Belushi and pure pandemonium on the prowl. The movie isn’t exactly a success, but it’s the most glorious kind of failure: Imaginative, uncompromising and true to itself. A tip: if hearing Debbie Reynolds tell a Vegas crowd, “Let’s rock and roll!” doesn’t crack you up, you don’t want any part of this movie. Not even the good parts.

Linda Dubler’s picks:

A Bucket of Blood

A Bucket of Blood (1959)

With its lurid title and down at the heels production values, A Bucket of Blood is a sterling example of legendary B-movie producer/director Roger Corman’s talent for entertaining, inspired schlock. The film’s central character, Walter Paisley (Dick Miller), is a bus boy at a beatnik coffee house who is so inept he makes Maynard G. Krebs look like Jackson Pollock.

Poor, talentless Walter longs for the limelight, so when his landlady’s cat dies accidentally, he covers the stiff feline in plaster, a la George Segal, and presents the critter as a work of art. The hipsters are wowed, and soon the would-be-genius is trolling for additional bodies to receive the Paisley treatment. The lively script was written by Charles Griffith, screenwriter for The Little Shop of Horrors. Corman mentored Scorsese, Coppola, and Jonathan Demme among others, so even if you’re not a B-movie fan, consider taking a look.

Sullivan’s Travels (1941)

The grass is always greener – even for those who’ve successfully made it to the other side. Such is the case for Sullivan, a sought-after Hollywood director known for hits like Ants in Your Pants of 1939. Yearning for the gravity and respect that genius endows, this would be Steinbeck declares he’s finished with fluff and ready to undertake his masterpiece, a gritty, relevant opus called Oh Brother Where Art Thou? But before he can write about the common man, it would help to meet a few.

Sullivan and his fetching, hold-the-hooey secretary (Veronica Lake, famous for her peek-a-boo wave) take to the road in a luxuriously appointed Airstream in search of America. Preston Sturges, a treasure of American cinema and the writer/director behind The Palm Beach Story and The Lady Eve, mixes comedy with melodrama in this delicious satire of self-importance and fame.

The Lady Eve (1941) , Ball of Fire (1941) , and Bringing Up Baby (1938)

The movies are full of evil geniuses (Dr. Frankenstein and his many peers), troubled geniuses (viz. any standard issue artist bio pic, from Lust for Life to Basquiat), even idiotic geniuses (e.g. Austin Powers), but my favorite variety are the clueless intellectuals, beloved by the makes of classic screwball comedies. Invariably men, these champions of book learnin’ are short on smarts and easy marks for women who either thing or two about the world, or are so ditzy they defy comprehension.

In The Lady Eve, Henry Fonda is a herpetologist (a snake specialist to be precise) who makes an appetizing victim for slithery card-sharp Barbara Stanwyck. Stanwyck shows up again in Ball of Fire as Sugarpuss O’Shea, a nightclub singer who knows her way around a colloquialism, who ends up hiding out in a house full of lexographers, among them sexy language specialist Prof. Bertram Potts (Gary Cooper). And in what’s probably my favorite American comedy, Katherine Hepburn is as untamed as the titular leopard Baby, driving poor paleontologist Cary Grant around the bend and into her waiting arms. After a lousy day or a lousy week, any one of these gems will help to chase away the blues.

Samantha Eggar in The Brood

By Eric Eisenberg: CinemaBlend.com

It’s strange to think that David Cronenberg has been freaking us out for thirty years. Be it the head explosion in Scanners, the creation of Brundlefly in The Fly, or even Ed Harris’ end in A History of Violence, his films have always existed on the far edge of extreme, even by today’s standards. When you consider the impact his films have had, it’s kind of strange that Hollywood has yet to make any crappy, updated remakes of them yet. There was a rumor a few years ago of a Scanners remake that never was, and Cronenberg himself signed on to remake The Fly back in September, but up until now the man’s work has been untouched. Now to drop the other shoe…

According to Shock Till You Drop, Cory Goodman, the writer of next year’s Paul Bettany film Priest, is refinishing his script for The Brood, a remake of Cronenberg’s film from 1979, and Spyglass Entertainment has a director interested in the project. The original film is about a man who begins to investigate the strange form of psychology that his wife’s doctor is practicing, at the same time as a group of mutant children terrorize the neighborhood. As his investigation continues, he learns that the two are actually related by a horrifying secret.

Amazon Specials!

‘I’m just observing the world. I was born into it, like you were, and then I found out there were some really disturbing aspects to being alive, like the fact that you weren’t going to be alive forever – that bothered me.’

–David Cronenberg

/Kenneth Tangnes

I’d say at least three times a week I browse through nearly everything offered instantly from Netflix.  Typically there’s a heavy glass of red wine sitting next to me on my floor – that needs to be vacuumed with something of industrial strength – that I’ll get to once I put my X-Box controller down.  My intention is to see what is new on “instant watch” and then start buffering up a movie that hopefully doesn’t suck.  A good lot of the time I browse for too long then flash through my queue and can’t decide on any one thing.  Why?  Too many options.  I’ll even work together with my roommate Jordan to widdle down the choices, but usually I give up and head to my room for a comic or two before bed.

Sometimes too much is just too much.

I was born in ‘84 and I’ve seen the Super Nintendo (de)evolve into the Dreamcast then grow wings and become the 360.  Without having to read and recite a book about science, I’m saying that I’ve witnessed technology grow exponentially.  Today I have the option to watch hundreds of movies with the flick of joystick and a little pressure applied to a brightly colored button.  Oh, Band McMusic just re-released their live EP from the secret show they played in Hungary – circa ‘98 – during that accidental aerial bombardment from NATO Y-Wing.  ”Type type type” then “click click click” and I have that album sitting on my desktop.  It’s obvious that we’re spoiled when it comes to the entertainment that’s a hyperlink away and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

X-Box Live just added Last FM as an application for it’s fancy Gold Members – who pay 40 some dollars a year – and are given many more reasons to never bask in natural light.  Not that this invention is anything new to the interwebs, but I can pick an artist, make a station via that artist, and listen to music within the same vein of said artist.  I know, this sounds like the radio if you were able to put it under the microscope and manipulate what you wanted from it.  It is, but sometimes it’s just too much.

When I was a kid I had the radio, a small book of CDs, and the local Video Barn for entertainment.  I was content too.  As the years have passed and I now put onions on nearly every sandwich I make, it’s obvious my likes and dislikes have expanded.  My Mom would slice onions in our kitchen back home and just the scent was enough to keep me away from our downstairs for hours.  What used to sate or deter me as a child isn’t the case anymore.  Now I need three new movies in the mail twice a week to keep me from clawing at the walls.  There has to be a refresher from some new band I’ve never heard – or given any time to – at least a couple times a month, otherwise I start biting my nails down to the cuticle.  I’m American, I drink beer out of the can, and I need to be fucking entertained 24 hours out of the God damn day.  Yeah, it’s true.

I think I kinda lost my train of thought at some point in this rant, so I’ll get to some kind of point.

We used to worship idols made of stone and wood then men who said they were actual gods filled in that spot.  After that we started to hear these stories from wise elders about these powerful beings that have always been and will always be, so it was the smart choice to praise them.  Now we have the internet.  The internet knows all, tells all, and does all.  What else do we need?  If this laptop I’m typing on had a vagina built into it, could pour alcohol out one of it’s many ports, and ejected the makings for a sandwich from the CD drive… yup, wouldn’t leave the house.

I could go on with this, but I’d probably end up running my words and thoughts into solid wall of nonsense, which would most likely drive me to making dick and fart jokes.  Let me save you from that and tell you about some music you should be listening to.

1. Bang Maiden, they’re from San Francisco (make some unjustified generalizations from that fact alone because that’s what I’d do).  On Halloween last month they played their first show at The Parkside in the Misson and they definitely fit the bill if you wanna drink, dance, and bang your head.  They just uploaded a three song demo EP for download and I’m a fan.  Hardcore  - and whatever sub-genre within the same realm you babble about – is one of those sounds that’s in a bit of a slump as of late.  Don’t get me wrong, there are many greats acts currently putting out original and good tunes, but the majority is nothing more than the same old riffs that started in the ’80s, got reworked in the ’90s, and has continued the same cycle into the 2000’s.  What do these guys have that sets them apart from the fodder?  They don’t have drums, they got beats.  Patrick is the programming wizard in the three-piece that mixes the backbone of sound , which gives the group an artificial rhythm that is danceable… like boner-jams danceable.  It’s not too often you can listen to something that cuts a rug all Samurai Shodown 2 (I suck at that game), yet urges your veins to replace some of that red with drunk and maybe punch some random, all in good fun of course.  It’s dirty and fun, so give it a listen, go get tested afterwards, and pay me the ten bucks you owe.

2. Now these guys just got dredged out of the dungeon – I call it my iPod – and put a real dumb smile on my face.  Since the mammoth performance I witnessed a while back at the West Seattle Legion Hall, Giant became Brave Young, but the sound hasn’t changed a bit.  I’ve been allowing my music to grow a little more grand these days (drugs are bad), so the music I’m seeking needs to consume me and wall me up inside of it.  Brave Young is an undertaking that weighs on your ear drums with its heavy guitars and bass.  The sound becomes one looming entity that is lumbering with each bang of the drums and it’s one voice roars just far enough from the instruments before it melds back into the mass of noise.  This is one of those bands that I may never see live again, but from that one show – whatever summer it was ago – I feel lucky.

3. Oh yeah, I’m doing it.  Oingo Boingo has been the musical “first ice cold beer of the day” for me lately.  It’s fun, it’s upbeat, it can get a little spooky, and it’s one of those aspects of the ’80s that I don’t hate.  I’m not saying the 80’s were horrible, I mean come on, Earth Girls Are Easy?  You don’t have to say anything, just try not to get lost in Jeff Goldblum’s eyes, even though he does have mind powers.  There really isn’t any reason for me to explain any further.  Fire this shit up and let Danny Elfman do the rest.  Watch this too:

The Brood

Director: David Cronenberg.

Guión: David Cronenberg

Intérpretes: Oliver Reed, Samantha Eggar, Art Hindle, Cindy Hings, Henry Beckman, Nuala Fitzgerald.

Música: Howard Shore.

Fotografía: Mark Irwin

Montaje: Allan Collins

Canadá. 1979. 92 minutos.

Eslabón a recuperar

Forjado en el medio catódico de su país de origen, Canadá, pero donde se le dejó dar rienda suelta a su independencia y avidez expresiva, David Cronenberg inició su singladura cinematográfica con Shrivers (1975) y Rabid (1977), dos piezas hoy consideradas de culto, cuyos relatos -marcados por epidemias venéreas- servían para proponer originales y mórbidas variaciones de, respectivamente, la suplantación de la personalidad y el mito vampírico, con formas visuales de ponencia más que osada y regusto gore. En 1981 le llegaría el primer reconocimiento internacional con Scanners, un relato de suspense para un trasfondo reflexivo sobre la telepatía. Pero antes realizó la obra que nos ocupa, Cromosoma 3, filme en el que, de hecho, Cronenberg ya pudo contar con más medios (remarcable es la presencia de dos actores de renombre, Oliver Reed y Samantha Eggar –que además ofrecen, en sus diversos careos íntimos, un magnífico recital interpretativo-; además, es la primera película en la que Howard Shore colaboró con el realizador), y que, poco a poco, va reclamando su trascendencia tanto en el devenir del imaginario de Cronenberg (y las tan traídas y llevadas teorías de la Nueva Carne) como del Cine Fantástico en general (sin ir más lejos, David J.Skal, en su magnífico tratado Monster Show: Una historia cultural del horror, la compara con la coetánea Alien de Ridley Scott).

Traumas familiares

Dicen que Cromosoma 3 es un filme de tintes autobiográficos, pues Cronenberg se hallaba en pleno proceso de divorcio durante la escritura y ulterior dirección de la película. El propio Cronenberg ha manifestado que proyectó esa agria experiencia en buena parte del meollo temático y argumental del filme, y es evidente que, bajo su –tan hiperbólica y salvaje como aguda y penetrante- síntesis fantástica –a la que después nos referiremos-, el filme plantea severas, bien pesimistas, meditaciones sobre las enquistadas relaciones familiares. Pero no se trata sólo de esas meditaciones propuestas por la vía alegórica, sino también por la propia textualidad. El filme empieza con lo que se nos antoja como una representación teatral, y que después descubriremos que es una sesión de psiquiatría (“psicoplásmica”) impartida por el doctor Hal Raglan (Reed), pero en cualquier caso su sustancia es el enfrentamiento entre un padre y su hijo, que se pretende catárquico. De ahí pasamos a conocer el protagonista, Frank Carveth (Art Hindle), que recoge a su hija pequeña, Candice (Cindy Hings), y se la lleva a casa. Frank está divorciado de Nola (Eggar), y ambos comparten la custodia de la niña. Frank ha tenido que ir a las dependencias del Dr. Raglan a recoger a su hija porque Nola reside con el psiquiatra, quien le está sometiendo a un proceso de tratamiento psiquiátrico. Frank descubre en la espalda de su hija rastros de rasguños, y sospecha de su ex-mujer, amenazando a Raglan (que media entre ellos, porque no le deja ver a Nola) con un procedimiento judicial para quitarle la custodia. En el devenir narrativo, Frank contactará primero con Julianna, la madre de Nola, y después con Barton, su padre, y en los dos encuentros, los dos progenitores de la chica hablan de las enquistadas relaciones familiares, ambos maculados por el mismo pasado traumático (que les concierne como pareja y padres al igual que concierne a Nola como hija). Como digo, el texto se incardina, continuamente, bajo los parámetros de esa dolorosa introspección en los espacios hostiles, traumáticos, del pasado familiar (y cuando no son Frank, Nola, o los padres de éste, quienes hablan, lo hacen los psiquiatras: Raglan suplantando a los padres de Nola en las sesiones psiquiátricas, o un psiquiatra de la policía que ha explorado a la niña Candice). Pero la cámara de Cronenberg, bajo la apariencia de esa funcionalidad narrativa que se le suele asignar, no hace otra cosa que inspeccionar esos turbios sentimientos. Atiéndase al modo más bien ambiguo en el que filma el rostro de la niña, caracterizada con la imagen más virginal de la inocencia –la melena rubia, el flequillo que cubre su frente, el vestido de muñeca…-, pero descrita como una personita ya atormentada, cuyos silencios y expresiones neutras esconden el cultivo de esa herencia traumática. Atiéndase a la secuencia del aeropuerto, donde Frank y su hija recogen a Barton, y Cronenberg propone encuadres (frontal y trasero de los tres, primeros planos de cada personaje) que, por un lado los aislan, y por otro subrayan las alusiones dialogadas. Atiéndase sobretodo a la circunspección narrativa en la secuencia de la otra abuela de la niña, Julianna, que se inicia con un primer plano de unas fotos en blanco y negro –de cuando Julianna era joven y Nola tenía la edad de Candice- que la niña contempla, mientras en segundo plano vemos a su padre y abuela materna conversando, alternancia que se va repitiendo mientras vemos a Julianna hablar dramáticamente del pasado mientras consume alcohol, la estancia con poca luz desprendiendo esa frialdad tonal tan cara a los propósitos de Cronenberg.

La Camada

Quien haya leído hasta aquí echará de menos el comentario recurrente en las reseñas de la película: que tiene secuencias muy sanguinarias y desagradables, tanto que requiere estómagos fuertes. Es cierto que hay imágenes perturbadoras, marca de estilo del autor –la más llamativa durante años, hasta Dead Ringers, por lo menos- que, y eso es lo fundamental, implica al espectador de forma más que intelectual, visceral, en sus complejos aparatos narrativos simbólico-metafísicos. Esto es, esa violencia no tiene nada de gratuita, y cada una de esas secuencias sanguinolentas tiene un pleno sentido, una imbricación en la trama y en el discurso. Sí que he mencionado la técnica psiquiátrica del Dr. Raglan, la psicoplasmia, una terapia que canaliza los trastornos mentales mediante reacciones físicas, erupciones en la piel, eccemas, sarpullidos…, que surgen a modo de catarsis. En el caso de Nola, la más prometedora paciente –o más bien conejillo de indias, o, como la llama otro paciente, “la abeja madre”- de Raglan, la terapia llega a una nueva e inaudita dimensión, que no es otra que la definida en el título original del filme, “la camada” (The Brood): Nola engendra unos pequeños seres, con apariencia de niños monstruosos, asexuados, cuyo cometido no es otro que el de aniquilar a aquellas personas por las que Nola siente aversión. Primero, en lógico y terrorífico sentido, atacan a los padres de la mujer. Más tarde, Nola desata su hostilidad contra una profesora de Candice, Ruth, porque cree –erróneamente- que ésta es la nueva novia de su ex–esposo: poco después, se produce la reacción: dos de esos pequeños engendros asesinan a la profesora, de forma salvaje, delante de sus alumnos… (secuencia que, por cierto, termina con un plano antológico: aquél en el que Frank, para evitar a los niños la visión del rostro ensangrentado de la profesora, cubre ese rostro con un dibujo hecho por un niño). El planteamiento cronenbergiano, tan aberrante como acostumbra, como el potencial de la psique humana, salta, de las alteraciones anatómicas, al engendro de una nueva forma, no de vida –pues está regida psicológicamente por la matriz-, que lleva a la literalidad, a la realidad, las obsesiones y deseos más recónditos de una mente traumatizada por el odio y el rencor. En el formidable clímax de la función, Cronenberg funde todos los conceptos narrativos mediante dos secuencias cruzadas: una en la que Frank asiste, atónito, a la revelación del secreto anatómico de Nola, y otra en la que, al mismo tiempo, el Doctor Raglan intenta rescatar a la niña que los hijos de Nola tienen retenida en su estancia. Con la clarividencia del mejor escritor y de avezado storyteller, Cronenberg plantea un solo desarrollo para las dos secuencias, consciente de que Nola y los niños son la misma identidad, y, por tanto, la progresión debe ser única (magníficamente ilustrado en cada encadenado; v.gr. plano en el que vemos a Raglan inspeccionar cautelosamente las dependencias oscuras y, de súbito, darse la vuelta, momento en que por corte se enfoca a Frank en la dirección de la mirada del doctor: Raglan, que hasta entonces lo controlaba todo, ahora depende absolutamente de lo que Frank pueda hacer y decir para mitigar la rabia de Nola… le va la vida en ello).

Significados

Las interpretaciones sobre la temática del filme (y su abordaje del mismo) pueden extenderse de modos muy variados. Yo me he limitado a referir el pesimismo de Cronenberg en su mirada a lo complejos que resultan los nudos familiares y lo nocivo de ciertos lazos o implicaciones afectivas (o, si lo prefieren, los horrores que yacen bajo la plácida apariencia –y el peso cultural/económico- de un seno familiar). En cualquier caso, Cronenberg no nos deja indiferentes. Bien al contrario. Desde un foro del todo humilde –el que caracterizaba sus producciones por aquellos tiempos, y que, en cierto modo, alcanza a la actualidad, pues las historias del autor de Spider, lógica y tristemente, por ende despiertan las alergias de la maquinaria industrial-, el cineasta explora de un modo muy particular, indómito, implacable y brillante items universales imbricados en lo psicológico y/o en lo metafísico. Desde su trinchera, y tan callando, va desplegando una (eminente) casta al entramado artístico del Cine Fantástico contemporáneo.

 http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0078908/

http://billsmovieemporium.wordpress.com/2009/05/04/review-the-brood-uncut-1979/

http://cinemafantastique.net/film1228,Chromosome-3.html

http://classic-horror.com/reviews/brood_1979

http://horrortalk.com/reviews/Brood/TheBrood.htm

Todas las imágenes pertenecen a sus autores 

I’m no sexual mastodon, but I would like to think I know which orifice my member is occupying at any given time, or maybe I’m doing it all wrong, who knows!

Screenplay By: David Henry Hwang
Directed By: David Cronenberg

As soon as I read that David Cronenberg was not the writer of M. Butterfly warning signs went off in my head. As the movie progressed what I feared would happen was happening. If this were a Cronenberg penned film as well as a Cronenberg directed film the ideas that the actual writer, David Henry Hwang, only hints at would have been explored fully. Alas, that is not the movie I received and I have to look at M. Butterfly for what it is, while always being aware of what it could have been.

The story of M. Butterfly is frankly preposterous on face value, but it is not a story meant to be seen at face value. The big question is how could René have spent twenty years with Song, had sex together numerous times and never realize that Song was in fact a man? The idea Hwang, or maybe Cronenberg, puts forth is that René knew all along, but he chose to live the lie because the lie was more appealing to him than the truth could ever be. If you are willing to accept that theory then the rest of the film loses its preposterous sheen and becomes a very believable tale.

The lack of heat or tension in M. Butterfly’s story is a problem all by itself, but that is a minor problem compared to how the message of the film is handled. The idea of a man engaging in a relationship with someone he doesn’t know is also a man, or even knowingly engaging in a transgender relationship is interesting. More than that it is a springboard for numerous topics relating to sexuality, when you take into account that René is French and Song is Chinese there are even more issues to be discussed. How their different cultures view sex, the role reversal in their relationship, the idea of sexual dominance as well as gender in sexual roles are all ideas that M. Butterfly explores. These are ideas I looked forward to seeing explored in depth, but M. Butterfly never goes beyond the surface. It hints at its sexual related issues, but when it needs to explore deeper the film shrinks back as if it is afraid to proceed any further. M. Butterfly is a classic case of a topic getting too little coverage, and that is sad to say about a Cronenberg film.

Jeremy Irons gives another good performance, he has the sexually repressed individual down pat I do believe. It’s debatable whether John Lone pulls off the role of Song. On the one hand he doesn’t need to be womanly to us, only to René, but if we are to fully believe René could fall for Song then shouldn’t we believe Song is a woman just as much as René does? I don’t know the answer to that question as I see both sides of the argument, in some ways Lone’s look worked for me but in others it failed. I know some who didn’t buy Lone’s performance for a second, or the idea that it shouldn’t matter to us whether he looks womanly or not, your mileage will probably vary on this topic.

On the scale of David Cronenberg films M. Butterfly resides near the bottom of the list. We all know what Cronenberg is capable of, and he is capable of much more than we are allowed to see in M. Butterfly. I enjoyed that the film was willing to tackle such taboo sexual subjects, but it needed to explore those subjects more attentively. Cronephiles such as myself will find the limited value in M. Butterfly, but everyone else can keep on walking, because this dude does more than look like a lady.

Rating:

***

Cheers,
Bill

Excuse my french, but how fucking cool is that?

Ever since I can remember all I’ve ever wanted to do was congregate with like-minded writers. And now, in my home town (not to mention for a PRICE), I have the opportunity to listen to a man whose books scared the beejeezes out of me, fucked up my mental and made me afraid of the dark to this very day. Well, like they say, confront your fears, that’s the only way they’ll go away. Yes, Stephen King will be here for the launch of his new book ‘UNDER THE DOME.’

OH MY GOSH! And did I mention he’ll be in conversation with the legendary, just-as-creepy David Cronenberg? And Toronto’s primetime TV impresario George Stroumboulopoulos will be hosting?

Come on… How good does this get?!? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Tickets are between $28-$33 and are available for purchase at ticketking.com.
Who: Stephen King, sidelined by David Cronenberg and George Stroumboulopoulos.

What: Launch of King’s new book “Under the Dome’.

When: Thursday, November 19, 2009. 8:00pm – 9:30pm.

Where: The Canon Theatre , 244 Victoria St., Toronto, ON M5B 1V8.

Contact: (416) 872-1212.

This is a is presented by Chapters Indigo.

It’s clear what the issue is here, an apartment complex that is bereft of pets is clearly the spawn of the devil!

Written By: David Cronenberg
Directed By: David Cronenberg

Shivers is often credited as David Cronenberg’s feature film debut, but that is not actually the case. 1969’s Stereo was Cronenberg’s first feature film, but it was an independent film that was barely seen at the time and is still an unknown today even among pretty hardcore Cronenberg fans. Shivers was Cronenberg’s first chance to make a feature with some decent money behind it, and the first chance for Cronenberg to explore his two favorite topics, sex and human flesh.

There was a fair bit of controversy behind Shivers upon its release, enough to get Cronenberg kicked out of his Toronto apartment and cause him trouble in finding Canadian funding for his following directorial efforts. The content was deemed lewd and lascivious at the time, but having seen the picture it’s amazing how much restraint Cronenberg employs. Unlike his later efforts Shivers functions on the unseen glimpse principal, meaning that we see glimpses of blood and hints at the sex that is taking place but we never actually see any of it full force. The sex and gore in Shivers rests in the mind and the mind alone and this is a a very smart move by Cronenberg, it stops Shivers from turning into an exploitative movie.

It shouldn’t surprise you when I tell you that the impetus in Shiver’s plot is some sort of parasite poking out of human flesh and causing problems, this is a Cronenberg film after all. Similar to John Carpenter’s The Thing, the parasite only functions in service of greater messages or themes. Shivers was made at a turning point in human culture, this was the point when people realized that sex had consequences. Because of this the way Shivers deals with sex can be viewed any number of ways. You can watch Shivers and view it as a precursor to the AIDS scare to come, or as Cronenberg’s attempt to punish society for its sexual excess, or any of the other ways the movie can be interpreted. I watched Shivers and saw something else, I saw a warning against the puritanical ways of Western society.

The sexual deviancy we see in Shivers comes about because of a society repressed, and when you really boil it down we don’t see much sexual deviancy in Shivers so maybe that isn’t the right word. We do see some promiscuity, and there are a few obvious cases of rape, but think about what happens to the people who are taken over by the parasite for a second. They enjoy themselves for the most part, they do go too far in most cases, but they do enjoy themselves. I believe Cronenberg wants us to look at that part, at the part of our brain that enjoys sex and revels in our sexuality. It’s only when the sex is repressed that the most violent acts occur. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m reading the film the wrong way, but at the very least Shivers makes you think about sex and how society views it.

There isn’t much polish to be found in Shivers, it is a raw movie with blemishes to be found. Some movies can get away with that however, their rawness adds to the overall experience. Most times in a multi-million dollar film you don’t want those blemishes, but in a near rookie effort with limited funding trying to say the things Cronenberg is interested in saying the gritty nature of the film adds to the overall experience. If you are a Cronenberg fan and you haven’t seen one of his earliest works then you owe it to yourself to give Shivers a chance. Maybe you’ll like it, maybe you’ll hate it, but at the very least it should make you think and that’s all Cronenberg ever wants.

Rating:

****

Cheers,
Bill

Hello film lovers! I’m taking a brief respite from my voracious consumption of the new Stephen King joint Under the Dome to bring you a hurried and distracted NDTD. Then let me get back to my book, for god’s sake!

I find myself bankrupt of words powerful enough to express my profound relief at this news: the imprudent remake of Oldboy directed by Stephen Spielberg and starring Will Smith has been squashed. Guys, I actually like Stephen Spielberg. I totally LOVE Will Smith. But this was the worst fucking idea ever conceived in Hollywood, the city that is bringing us White Chicks 2. Oh by the by, Will’s now going to be starring in the adaptation of Flowers for Algernon so…there’s that.

Oh man, this news is so geeksweet I can barely type it for spazzing! PAM GRIER IS JOINING THE CAST OF SMALLVILLE AS AMANDA WALLER. Dudes! The casting is so epic and the plot implications so thrilling that I absolutely cannot WAIT for her arc to begin. ZOMG!!

Have your grain of salt at the ready: casting rumors regarding Spider-Man 4 are swirling about, namely involving Dylan Baker finally taking the step from Dr. Curt Connors to The Lizard, and Rachel McAdams possibly donning the sexy cat burglar suit as The Black Cat. Both rumors are nebulous; both make me extremely happy.

Winona Ryder is now in talks to join Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman in Darren Aronofsky’s ballet thriller Black Swan, proving entirely accurate my once-posted theory that Aronofsky is simply casting all of the attractive brunettes he would like to see wearing leotards. No judging here! Get yours, Darren.

Review Preview:

Yeah, yeah, you’ve heard it all before.  But you guys! I promise!

09/10

] IT’S A SPACE BETWEEN [ é um exercício de 10 posts com o objectivo de definir o espaço próprio onde residem os exemplos apresentados. Este critério de escolha foi feito com base nos diferentes temas abordados pelas várias disciplinas do Mestrado de Design de Comunicação e Novos Media, assim como nas ideias ou sentimentos ambíguos provocados pelos trabalhos seleccionados.

eXistenZ - David Cronenberg, 1999

“Nós queremos entoar hinos ao homem que segura o volante, cuja haste ideal atravessa a Terra, lançada também numa corrida sobre o circuito da sua órbita.”

Fillipo Marinetti – Manifesto Futurista 1909

A separação de 90 anos entre o filme eXistenZ e o Manifesto Futurista mostra a intemporalidade perante o fascínio do Homem pela Máquina. O anacronismo prospectivo do sonho futurista de Marinetti está presente neste filme de Cronenberg e é levado ao extremo por haver efectivamente uma união física entre Homem e Máquina.

I’m happy I don’t have a twin, I’m weird enough by myself I fear for how weird two of me would be!

Written By: David Cronenberg & Norman Snider
Directed By: David Cronenberg

I’ve remained on the outside looking in of the nature versus nurture debate for most of my life. My view is a simple one, the truth resides somewhere in the middle. We are a product of our experiences, our make-up is formed by the people we interact with and how we choose to interact with them. David Cronenberg has always been fascinated by how people choose to define one another and Dead Ringers is yet another entry in his search to find some sort of resolution to the mystery of mankind. I take that back, I don’t believe resolution is Cronenberg’s ultimate aim, he wants to explore because only through exploration can we come to a better understanding and understanding is his ultimate aim.

If, as I said, we are a product of our experiences what happens to us when every experience we have isn’t ours alone? It is true that we share all of our experiences, but after the experience has been shared the reaction is ours and ours alone. What if that wasn’t the case, what if our reaction to the shared experience was shared as well? The greater theme I found in Dead Ringers was of that loss of individuality, if we truly do define ourselves by how shared experiences affect us then how do we define ourselves when we have lost any sense of individuality?

Beverly and Elliot Mantle are not individuals, they are a collective. What one experiences the other is sure to experience as well. It is even worse for Bev, he struggles to find a reason for his existence, his every social interaction is found through his brother. I can’t imagine being in that situation but if you stop and think about it isn’t that what we strive to do with our lives? We spend our time on this planet searching for people that we can share with, for people who have the same experiences as us or who can go on to share experiences at the same time we do. We always define ourselves as individuals yet we spend our time trying to join a partnership. Elliot and Bev represent the worst that can come from that loss of individuality, through them Cronenberg explores the avenue most of us try to go down with our lives. It ends up not quite what we expected or hoped for, but that is possibly the one truth that Cronenberg is always trying to expose, what we end up with in life is often not what we thought it would be.

From the craft perspective Dead Ringers is a superbly made film, with only one moment feeling out of place. The movie adopts a cold and sterile aesthetic, an aesthetic that perfectly suits two men who are removed from humanity. Jeremy Irons is not an actor whose work I am very familiar with but I doubt he will be able to top his dual performance in Dead Ringers. He makes Bev and Elliot distinctly different yet the same and he never misses a beat when inhabiting one twin or the other. Geneviève Bujold is startlingly frank as Claire, at times I was more interested in her character arc than I was either of the brothers. Like usual Cronenberg takes all of these artistic elements and adds his distinct vision to create a densely layered movie that stimulates intellectually while drawing you in on the base level with its surface story.

For the first time ever I do feel the need to take Cronenberg to task for a viscerally gory scene. It’s not the finale, that felt justified to me, but it is the conjoined dream sequence. I have a better understanding of the meaning behind that scene after reading a different take on the film than my own from my friend Edgar at Between The Seats. Still, even with a better understanding of the destructive force Claire is supposed to represent in the relationship of Bev and Elliot I don’t feel that the gore found in the dream sequence is justified. I’m sure it isn’t a problem for most people, there is an interpretation that justifies it after all, but it didn’t sit well with me and took me out of the picture in that one moment and one moment alone.

Dead Ringers represents another great David Cronenberg film, albeit not one that is on the same level as his best works. Dead Ringers is provocative and further deals with Cronenberg’s long running theme of human definition. It features a great lead performance, and, uh, hold on a second. Look, it’s a Cronenberg film, I can’t give you a tidy last paragraph summing up why you should or shouldn’t see it. Like any Cronenberg film Dead Ringers is an experience, one that isn’t for everyone but an experience that may be for you if you give it a chance.

Rating:

***1/2

Cheers,
Bill

The cinema typically places women on the side of a chaotic and capricious nature in opposition to the male dominated social hierarchy that is enforced through military power and what Carol Clover terms ‘white science:’ ‘Its representatives are nearly always males, typically doctors, and its tools are surgery, drugs, psychotherapy, and other forms of hegemonic science’ (1992: 66). In the science fiction films of David Cronenberg science and technology represent attempts to resist the tendency towards ever-increasing chaos. Medicine, surgery and psychotherapy are the tools that are used to preserve the integrity of the human mind and body, and are exclusively employed by men and (typically) directed towards women. However, these attempts are futile as the American chemist G.N. Lewis stated in his interpretation of the second law of thermodynamics: ‘when any actual process occurs it is impossible to invent a means of restoring every system concerned to its original condition.’ The products of science become something new that breaks free of their scientifically generated order. As Linda Nochlin states, ‘The most potent natural signifier possible for folly and chaos [is] woman unleashed’ (1991: 35). What is interesting about Cronenberg’s films is that he views the failure of science and the unleashing of chaos as creative acts.

Science and technology

As an example of this moment of failure/creation of science we might look at Rabid. The film begins with a motorcycle accident in which Hart and Rose are severely injured. In order to save Rose’s life Dr. Dan Keloid performs emergency plastic surgery. The aim here is clearly the preservation of life but as a result of the operation Rose becomes a new biological creature. Rose wakes to find that she can only digest blood, which she extracts from her victims through a penile barb that has developed in her armpit. Rose, as a product of the surgical process, breaks free of the realm of science as she can no longer be classified or controlled within a laboratory environment. In fact Rose quite literally escapes the world of science as she goes on the run spreading a form of rabies throughout Montreal. Science has, by accident, created the carrier of the disease.

Such emergent evolution is not restricted to the human form as it can also be seen to transform technology. The telepods in The Fly are intended, like H.G. Wells’ time machine, to ‘end all concepts of transport, of borders and frontiers, of time and space.’ The result is not that intended by the scientist, but, as Scott Bukatman points out, Brundle is successful: ‘the dissolution of geographic boundaries yields before the breakdown of genetic and bodily hegemony … telepathy and physical projection break down the dichotomy between public and private; subjectivity and temporality collapse; man merges with machine: we have arrived in a zone without borders’ (1993: 268). Technology is as unpredictable as nature despite our efforts to control it. A device designed for tele-transportation becomes a gene-splicer, its womb-like mechanical beehives fusing the scientist and fly to create something new. As Cronenberg describes it, ‘instead of having a defective machine, we have a nicely functioning machine that just has a different purpose’ (Newman 1989: 116). This is echoed by Brundle when he says, “I seem to be stricken by a disease with a purpose.”

Alternatively scientists such Professor Brian O’Blivion and Dr. Paul Ruth become involved in the efforts of the military-industrial complex to control North America and to dictate the social order. Ruth administers the drug ephemerol to individuals who subsequently develop telepathic powers. As an employee of Consec Ruth is also recruiting these ‘scanners’ for intelligence work. The theme here is one of control through science linked to the military. Ephemerol gives relief to the voices in the heads of the scanners but in order to ensure a supply they must give themselves over to the Consec plan. However, in Darryl Revok we find a rogue with his own plan, one who cannot be manipulated by Consec. The ability of the military-industrial complex to control society is far from complete, especially where the physical nature of the human mind is concerned. Order is continually breaking down as the scanners turn on their masters inciting a revolt that is as physical as it is political.

The scientist dominates Cronenberg’s films and can be seen to be, in general, a reformulation of Wells’ Dr. Moreau. Dr. Hal Raglan, in The Brood, demonstrates many of the qualities of Moreau in particular. Prendick’s description of Moreau’s physical appearance – ‘his serenity, the touch almost of beauty from his set tranquillity, and from his magnificent build’ (Wells [1896] 1946: 87) – might as easily apply to Oliver Reed as Raglan, and both doctors are dangerously charismatic. Each of the doctors works in isolation fearing society’s response to their controversial methods. Each has a project to encourage the evolution of man by removing the obstacles of emotion and sensation from our development. Through the therapy of ‘psychoplasmics’ Raglan seeks to reintegrate individuals like Nola Carveth into society. In order to do this he has his subjects physically manifest their mental disorders. Moreau works towards his goal through surgery to remove the physical sensations of pleasure and pain. In each case the result is the same. Through the intervention of the scientist nature is populated by monstrosities that break free of the scientific and social order imposed upon them to devour man, and in particular the scientist. As Moreau is killed by his ‘manufactured monsters,’ the identical children of Nola’s brood destroy Raglan. As with Ballard’s scientists, Cronenberg’s figures carry the signature of universal destruction within their own bodies. A disease will carry the name of the scientist, such as Rouge’s Malady, or the scientist will carry the name of a disease, such as Brian O’Blivion, whose name recalls the nova of W.S Burroughs’ fiction [1].

The chaotic woman

The women in Cronenberg’s films typically act as ‘patient zeros,’ with the first manifestations of the disease to be found on the female body or in the female environment. There are two groups of women who fulfil this function. The first contains those women whom we see contract the disease directly as a result of their interaction with science and technology. This infection is not restricted to the female population but within the cinema of entropy is almost always the woman who becomes the carrier of the virus. Notable exceptions are to be found in Stereo where both sexes become transformed by the theories of Dr. Luther Stringfellow and in Scanners where both sexes are again transformed by the drug ephemerol. Those who fit into the first group are to be found in Cronenberg’s films between 1970 and 1980 and those of the second group from Videodrome to the present. In Crimes of the Future the female population of the world is infected with Rouge’s Malady, transmitted through the Doctor’s cosmetic products. Annabelle, the mistress of Dr. Emil Hobbes in Shivers, is infected in a similar manner by the Doctor’s parasites. In Rabid, Rose is contaminated by the emergency plastic surgery she undergoes following a motorcycle accident. It is through the science of ‘psychoplasmics’ that Nola Carveth in The Brood can become the chaotic mother of her bizarre ‘children.’ The Brood is, in many ways, a retelling of Mary Shelley’s play Prosperine (1820), which turns the analogy of female fruitfulness as equal to natural plenitude on its head to draw the accompanying conclusion that female rage leads to universal destruction. As Meena Alexander describes it,

If nature, as the common figure is held female, and if woman’s procreative powers are intimately involved and analogous to the cycles of birth, death and renewal visible in the landscape, then maternal loss must equal natural devastation, and a mother’s rage at the loss of her child can tighten and twist into a vision of universal destruction: ‘Ceres for ever weeps, seeking her child And in her rage has struck the land with blight’ (1989: 12).

The devastated landscape of Cronenberg’s films is conditioned by the role of the woman and comes to reflect the ‘shape of rage’ felt by Nola at the loss of her daughter to her husband in the same manner as Ceres ‘threatens to cast the whole of created nature back to chaos’, having lost her daughter to the ‘King of Hell’ (Alexander 1989: 13).

The second group consists of those women who have already been infected prior to the beginning of the narrative but who demonstrate the symptoms of entropy. Nicki Brand shows through her decadence that she has been infected and this is seen in the masochistic mutilation of her body. In Dead Ringers, Claire Niveau is biologically mutated with her trifurcate uterus, and in Naked Lunch (1991) Joan Lee is addicted to bug powder. Once infected the process of transmission is the same for both these groups. The virus is communicated by the interaction of male and female. Entropy is a sexually transmitted disease. In those instances where the technology is the dominant method of communicating the virus it is specifically associated to sex. The videodrome is a pornographic arena and the cars of Crash become the focus of sexuality with their metallic forms joining with and amputating human sexual functions.

In Veronica Quaife, in The Fly, we find the embodiment of the woman as an agent of entropy that is specifically related to technology. How she became infected is not explained to us but it is through her interaction with Seth Brundle that the scientist becomes diseased. Veronica’s contagious state is revealed to us early on in the film when she gives Brundle a ride in her car back to his apartment/laboratory. Her driving, the union of woman and heat engine, makes Brundle feel a motion sickness similar to that of Well’s time traveller. Her disruption of his life is total. Through sex she infects the scientist who then transmits the disease to his technology. She awakens Brundle to the flesh and this inspires him to pass on the information to the computer that controls the telepods. She tells Brundle, “I want to eat you up. That’s why old ladies pinch babies’ cheeks. It’s the flesh. It makes you crazy.” Veronica then goes out to buy new clothes for her new boyfriend, who has to this point been the very definition of fashionable order. He is always to be found immaculately and identically dressed from day to day. Veronica, in purchasing a red T-shirt and a leather jacket, disrupts this order and it is noticeable that once infected Brundle wears only those clothes bought for him by Veronica. He sheds the symbols of his order once infected. Veronica is an example of Robert Graves’ white goddess, ‘her word communicates indeterminacy through the poetic idiom’ (Chambers 1992: 106). In the department store scene her editor, Stathis Borans, describes her as a “goddess.” Veronica is able to communicate indeterminacy through her word as a journalist. As in Videodrome the power to control information makes the media a transmitter of the disease. Veronica’s apartment is a testament to her chaotic state, as it lies strewn with debris. Her attitude towards this mess only reinforces this view. She tells Stathis that she is, “very consciously lazy and disorganised.” In this statement it is Veronica herself who states that she is apathetic and suffers from a decay of energy, and that her natural state is one of disorder.

Devolution

We see throughout the Cronenberg’s films a transformation of the human body under the influence of technology and the female. The most startling image of decay occurs in Videodrome with the rapid decomposition of the body of Barry Convex, which goes the way of the second law with his highly ordered biological constitution becoming a disordered mess.

The most recurrent theme of devolution is cannibalism and Cronenberg uses the consumption if the human flesh as a clear indicator that man has degenerated to a state of being ‘less human’ than our ‘ancestors of three or four thousand years ago.’ We see this in Shivers where a woman grabs a passing waiter shrieking “Hungry for love! Hungry for love!” As in Burroughs’ fiction cannibalism is repeatedly linked to sexuality. In Rabid it is the penile barb that Rose uses to drink the blood of her victims. Her physical need is reminiscent of Prendick’s revival after taking a substance that ‘tasted like blood.’ Compare Veronica’s description of the flesh with Burroughs’ sexual cannibals, where the “flesh drives you crazy” and she fantasises about eating Brundle. It is noticeable that these cannibals are all females feasting themselves on male flesh. Here we see Burroughs’ description of woman as a virus given physical form as they consume the male body. The major exception to this comes in The Fly where it is Brundle who turns on Stathis Borans, digesting his foot and arm with corrosive enzymes, but this only occurs after he has been introduced to the flesh by Veronica.

A further manifestation of the devolution of man is the homogenisation of appearance and sexuality. The most obvious example of this transformation in Cronenberg’s films occurs in The Brood. Nola’s “children” are identical in appearance with each possessing the same crude mockery of Candice’s face and dressed in identical clothes. Significantly they posses no sexual organs at all and it is this kind of omni-sexuality that dominates Cronenberg’s conception of the homogenisation of man. As he states, ‘Human beings could swap sexual organs, or do without sexual organs as organs per se, for procreation … The distinction between male and female would diminish, and perhaps we could become less polarised and more integrated creatures’ (quoted in Rodley : 82). We see a change in the bodies of Max Renn and Seth Brundle towards a more feminine state. Max develops an enormous slit in his belly, vaginal in its construction, and Brundle, resistant to an alcohol rub from Tawny, is described as having the “skin of a princess.” This idea of homogenisation also features in Dead Ringers. The Mantle twins are a natural mutation that has produced its own “manufactured monsters.” As gynaecologists they continue this manufacturing process, as Beverly puts it: “we make women fertile.” Beverly, although physically a male, is seen to have many female qualities, least of all his name. The Mantle twins ultimately lose the power to differentiate between each other.

In Crash man is already a technological animal. In a scene reminiscent of O’Blivion’s prophecies we see a cameraman wearing a Steadicam frame. Whereas in Videodrome the television set was to become the retina of the mind’s eye, in Crash the whole body is given over to the function of technology. The Steadicam operator shows us that technology of every kind is transforming our bodies and our functions in subtle ways that we do not even notice. The car crash is one of the most extreme forms of this modification but one that occurs repeatedly and relentlessly. This union of body and technology has given rise to a new species of human as we see in their titles. For example, ‘cameraman,’ or as Catherine refers to one of James’ sexual partners, ‘cameragirl.’ These bio-technological entities represent, like Max Renn and Seth Brundle in their final phases, an updating of Moreau’s ape-man. Cronenberg constantly associates man to the machines that dominate his world. As Leslie Dick has noted the satin bras that appear frequently mirror the shine and the curvature of the bodywork of the cars, in particular the 1955 Porsche 550 Sypder used in the recreation of James Dean’s fatal crash [2]. The stockings and suspenders of Catherine and Helen Rimmington are taken to their technological conclusion in Gabrielle’s callipers. Helen’s leather gloves and James’ jacket gleam like the cars but also recall the all-leather interiors, of Vaughan’s 1963 Lincoln in particular.

Decadence

To the late Victorians decadence was a sure sign of a society in decay. This is also true of Cronenberg’s films, where decadence is most commonly portrayed as sexual excess. In Shivers the revealed aim of Dr. Emil Hobbes is to turn the world into a “beautiful orgy.” As each individual is infected they are transformed into pleasure-driven zombies. Cronenberg throughout the film transgresses the moral codes governing sexuality and violence as the most basic instincts of our bestial ancestors are represented to us. In Videodrome decadence is associated with the ever present pornography and is openly referred to in Masha’s “Apollo and Dionysus” with its bacchanalian excesses. Nicki Brand speaks of living in “over-stimulated times” where stimulation is sought for its own sake. She describes herself as living in a state of heightened stimulation and is regularly dressed in a bright red dress that recalls the videodrome arena.

Cronenberg has been criticised, in particular by Robin Wood (1983: 115-116), for his supposedly anti-liberal representation of sexuality. For Wood, films such as Shivers and Rabid attack the sexual liberation of the 1960s and assume a more conservative position with the horror inflicted upon the participants in Starliner Towers, for example, as punishment for their decadence. However, it must be acknowledged that Cronenberg’s films are, like Ballard’s fiction, descriptive and not prescriptive. Shivers takes the breakdown of social and moral order to its logical extreme and allied with Cronenberg’s views on omnisexuality we approach Sade’s longing for a combination of species where the boundaries of gender no longer have meaning. This crossing of boundaries is not confined to human social/sexual relations, as Sade urges ‘a transgression of the limits separating self from other, man from woman, human from animal, organic from inorganic objects’ (Jackson 1981: 73). Ballard and Cronenberg both take up this theme with the fetishisation of the car in Crash, the television in Videodrome, and the fly and the telepods in The Fly. Shivers should not be regarded as reactionary as it exhibits the falsity of order as a restriction of human sexual impulses. As Rosemary Jackson points out, for Sade, ‘social order, ethics, morality, institutionalised activity, are all revealed as ‘un-natural’ conditions imposed on a natural disorder’ (1981: 74). Dr. Emil Hobbes is Sade’s agent in bringing about the return to disorder, and Cronenberg plays out the decadence of Starliner Towers as the logical conclusion to these principles. Similarly Iain Sinclair has described Crash as a ‘Sadean dance,’ and Ballard has remarked that “Crash is a movie De Sade would have adored” (Sinclair 1999: 62, 69).

Notes

1. On the relationship between horror and evolution in The Island of Dr. Moreau see Redfern (2004a). On the relationship between Burroughs and Cronenberg see my essay on the narrative of Videodrome (Redfern 2004b).
2. In a scene cut from the finished film and taken directly from Ballard’s Crash, Cronenberg specifically made this link between sexuality and the machine. In the screenplay we find the following action: ‘Karen, Catherine’s secretary, a moody, unsmiling girl, is methodically involved in the soft technology of Catherine’s breasts and the brassieres designed to show them off’. See Cronenberg (1996: 6).

References

Alexander, M. (1989) Women in Romanticism London: MacMillan.

Bukatman, S. (1993) Terminal Identity: The Virtual Subject in Post-modern Science Fiction. Durham: Duke University Press.

Chambers, J. (1992) Thomas Pynchon. New York: Twayne.

Clover, C. (1992) Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film. London: BFI.

Cronenberg, D. (1996) Crash. London: Faber & Faber.

Jackson, R. (1981) Fantasy, the Literature of Subversion. London: Methuen.

Newman, K. (1989) Nightmare Movies. New York: Harmony Books.

Nochlin, L. (1991) Women, art, and power, in N. Bryson, M. Ann Holly and K. Moxey (ed.), Visual Theory: Painting and Interpretation. Oxford: Polity Press: 13-47.

Redfern, N. (2004a) Abjection and evolution in The Island of Dr. Moreau, The Wellsian: The Journal of the H.G. Wells Society 27 2004: 37-47.

Redfern, N. (2004b) Information and entropy: the disorganisation of narrative in Cronenberg’s Videodrome, Entertext 4 (3) 2004: 6-24.

Rodley, C. (1992) Cronenberg on Cronenberg London: Faber & Faber.

Sinclair, I. (1999) Crash. London: BFI.

Wells, H.G. ([1896] 1946) The Island of Dr. Moreau. Harmondsworth: Penguin.

Wood, R. (1983) A dissenting view, in P. Handling (ed.) The Shape of Rage: The Films of David Cronenberg. Toronto: General Publishing: 115-135.

The tub was full of sherbet.

ugh – who paid for this?
the canadian film board?
j’accuse, cronenberg!

We’d lose whatever credibility we have as artsy, godless, communist, latte-sucking, tofu-chomping, holistic-wacko neurotic vegan perverts if we were caught coming down on the National Film Board like consertives have in days of yore. Really, we’re happy that the Canadian government helps in funding films, even bad ones like this. I mean, if nobody made bad movies, we wouldn’t be internet famous. And we’d rather be internet famous than Canadian famous (a.k.a. not famous).

Speaking of the NFB, omg have your tried their app?

More National Film Board hotness: 

Over the course of this week, we will uncover twenty titles you need to seek out at your local DVD store. Here is Part 3.

The list is laid out something like this. The title, year it was made, genre, synopsis and finally my rating. I hope to do more of these lists as I uncover some of the treasures hidden at the local videostore.

10. Zero Effect (1998) (Comedy – Mystery)

Daryl Zero (Bill Pullman) maybe the world’s most reclusive private investigator. Along with his assistant, Steve Arlo (Ben Stiller) he solves impossible crimes and puzzles.

When these two crack professionals are on a case they are brilliant but during the off time they drive each other bananas. In their latest case, Zero must find out who is blackmailing a rich executive, and when his client won’t tell him, why. 

What makes this film so unbelievably clever is the performance by Pullman. Imagine a man with no-social skills, a horrible musician and recluse having to deal with the emotions of love. For years, Zero has lived vicariously through his assistant but for once he has to deal with everyday issues that are right in front of him.

Pullman plays this type of character to utter perfection and to top it all off you have the comedic talent of Ben Stiller to play off of. Stiller is hilarious as he tries to deal with how eccentric his goofy boss really is. The mystery in the film is a little flat but the comedic combination of Pullman and Stiller is pure magic. (3.5 of 5).

9. Dead Ringers (1988) (Thriller)

The Mantle brothers (duo role played by Jeremy Irons) are both doctors – both gynecologists – and identical twins. Mentally however, one of them is more confident than the other, and always manages to seduce the women he meets.

When he’s tired of his current partner, she is passed on to the other brother – without her knowing. The whole plot is upset when the shy brother falls in love first and the balance is upset. Brutal, unnerving and sinister, director David Cronenberg weaves a tale that is bound to get the blood pumping.

Jeremy Irons gives the performances of his lifetime as the world of Mantle brothers explodes into a very sinister plot. A lot of the time you aren’t really sure which brother is which and that is part of the magic. It’s a wonderfully eerie ride. (4 of 5) .

8. Love Letters (1999) (Romance – Drama)

“Love Letters” is an adapted play about an ambitious U.S. Senator (Steven Weber) reflects back on his life after the death of a woman (Laura Linney) whom he loved and kept in contact with only through correspondence.

“Love Letters” is told in a series of flashbacks as the two first meet as children and begin their lifelong correspondence. “Love Letters” is a strong and passionate story that is bound to make you cry.

The performance of Laura Linney is unbelievably moving. This version of the stage adaptation is filmed like it’s being played out on a stage in your TV.

The director doesn’t drop in a lot of twisted camera movements but instead focuses on the actors and the story.

It is a pure delight. (4 of 5) .

7. Deceivers, The (1988) (Adventure)

In 1825, India lives in fear. A mysterious religion’s followers murder everyone that stand in their way. When William Savage (Pierce Brosnan), a tax-collector of a British-Indian company, discovers the new sect. Savage disguises himself as a local and joins the sect as he tries to solve the mystery. 

 This is the first of 2 little-known Brosnan films on this list. It’s strange how much interesting stuff he did between “Remington Steele” and James Bond.

With beautiful exotic locales, this Merchant-Ivory production, this film is also a mindbender of a mystery, as Brosnan’s character is pulled deeper and deeper into the cult.

There are times when you aren’t really sure he wants to uncover the mystery but just live it. He falls in love with two different women and that struggle almost develops a split personality. It truly is one of Brosnan’s greatest performances. (4 of 5) .

 6. Gothic (1986) (Drama – Horror)

What happened the night that Mary Shelley (Natasha Richardson) concocted to the horror classic “Frankenstein”?

Drug induced games, ghost stories and betrayals occur during one night at the mad nobleman, Lord Byron’s country estate.

As Mary begins writing her classic story, she is drawn into the sick world of her lover Shelley (Julian Sands) and her cousin Claire (Myriam Cyr) as Byron (Gabriel Byrne) leads them all down the dark paths of their souls.

“Gothic” is a Victorian story turned upside-down. It’s filled with shocking revelations and euphoria that is bound to keep you guessing.

How a great and twisted story like “Frankenstein” was created is a fascinating story but presented, as a gothic horror story itself is mind-boggling. (4 of 5) .

Did everyone have a horrifantastic Halloween? Ready to get down to business now? Let’s do it!

As you have likely heard, Halcyon is putting the rights to Terminator up for sale, hoping to get around $70 mil despite McG’s best efforts to render the franchise worthless.

Joss throws his hat in the ring.

I’m sure you’re all shocked as shit to hear that Paramount’s giving the sequel treatment to surprise hit Paranormal Activity. To those of you who very understandably ask, “How is that gonna work?”, fear not, says Viacom CEO Philippe Dauman: “Our team will come up with the right creative and marketing approach.” Relief!

More awesome news! Minus the awesome! Film started rolling on the Let the Right One In remake. Matt Reeves (Cloverfield) continues to desperately cling to the illusion that he is not a soulless piece of suit: “This project is very personal to Matt as it is to the many passionate fans of the original story,” says Simon Oakes, President and CEO of Hammer Films. “The brilliance of that story deserves to be seen by audiences on a wide scale and we are excited that the pieces are in place to make that a reality.” Hey, you know what’s on a wide scale? NETFLIX. WHERE I RENTED THE ORIGINAL FILM AND ENJOYED IT VERY MUCH. Ass.

So, so cool. Anthony Hopkins is looking to bring his pedigree to Thor as the title character’s father, Odin. That is some BRILLIANT casting.

Check out the intriguing new trailer for YellowBrickRoad starring Cassidy Freeman of Smallville.

Here’s a list of this week’s tremendously blah DVD releases, courtesy of me via 29-95.

Review Preview:

They’re coming soon! I promise!

Anymal Tantei Kuruminzoo, aka Animal Detectives randomjapanesewordwithzootackedonattheend.

Think of it as Di Gi Charat by way of David Cronenberg.

The anime starts off like any other magical girl series. Girls do normal anime girl stuff. Girls find shiny object. Shiny object bestows magical powers. I was prepared to brush it off as generic fluff and not bother with any future episodes. Then the transformation scene began.

After the girls speak some nonsense code word into their locket things, colored slime appears out of the screen. That alone wasn’t too weird.

Then the slimes take the form of a cat and a rabbit. Again, nothing really freaky. I figured these ghostly blobs would start talking in obnoxious, squeaky Jar-Jar voices and promptly transform into mascot characters.

Then the things open their mouths. Words dont come out. In fact, nothing comes out. But something lurks within: Galaxies. It’s like there’s a worm hole or a black hole within their throats, and these slimes seem all too eager to gulp down these girls and send them down their singularities.

And the slimes do just that. The girls are devoured. Game over. End of anime. Thanks for watching!

No, that just prompts the generic transformation sequence. Apparently, if you’re sent hurting through deep space, you don’t die from lack of oxygen and extremely low temperatures. No, you swirl around in colorful light and get outfitted in cute clothing.

Except said cute hats and gloves aren’t hats and gloves. Those animal heads are alive and are now a part of you. You have decapitated heads and limbs grafted onto your body, and your own body has been mutated and distorted to half of its size.

You’ve just become The Bunny and The Rabbit. Go hang out with Jeff Goldblum and compare notes.

Oh wait, your dad is Jeff Goldblum. Or at least a reasonable likeness. That explain everything!

Yes, Animal Detectives is the magical girl version of The Fly.

It’s that classic tale of boy meets girl, unless you count the girl being a crack science reporter and the boy being a semi-mad genius obsessed with teleportation.

Seth Brundle is a researcher working on how to make teleportation work.   Veronica Quaife scents a story in Seth Brundle; she follows him back to his lab and he shows her these nifty two telepods he’s been working on.  After some arguing, the two agree that Veronica can hang around and cover one of the greatest scientific achievements ever.   It soon becomes more than that, though, and Seth and Veronica’s communication problems soon cause Seth to get drunk and make a very, very bad decision.

I’d say that accidentally teleporting yourself with a common housefly is a very large problem, especially when you combine with the fly at a molecular level with a human to create Brundlefly.   Ick.

David Cronenberg remade the fly from a hokey ’50’s sci-fi flick (come on, the scientist’s head was practically pasted onto a fly’s body) into a much more modern retelling of the horrors that can be achieved through science and arguably what it means to be human.    While it’s gory, sure, Cronenberg never uses violence for violence’s sake (Rob Zombie, we’ll get to you later); instead, he uses it when necessary.   … And let’s face it, Goldblum’s transformation into the fully realized Brundlefly, with his half-fly, half-human body and all the changes he has to make to get there, is going to be gory no matter what

Creepiest moment: Has got to be, hands down, Brundle’s collection of body parts that have fallen off which he stores in his medicine cabinet.   Yuck.  Either that or Goldblum’s semi-deranged rant about taking a dip in the plasma pool.

Scariest moment: I can never, ever, ever hear about someone having a baby without picturing Geena Davis giving birth to a glo-worm.

Imagine that thing, sans the cutesy face and nightcap.   OH, THE HORROR OF IT ALL.

I love The Fly.  It’s got a lot of moments of genuine horror and suspense, as well as one of the weirdest performances Goldblum has done.      It’s definitely not one of the weirdest movies David Cronenberg has done (Oh!  David, let’s be BFF just for The Brood!) but I think, one of the best.   It’s a good fright flick that’s watchable just for the scares or if you want, for the ethical and moral questions it raises.