FILM NOTES FOR 2022: coming-of-age, animations and out there offerings

Eh, delayed with my notes on 2022 screen offerings because I was dealing with a second bout of COVID. But rest assured I used the time well to do nothing but binge watch. There's nothing like being forced and not wanting to do anything but watch fun stuff. 

Anyway...

C o m i n g  o f  A g e

Coming-of-age dramas offered the usual wealth of insights, magic realism and horror.

 

Elie Grappe’s ‘Olga’ – focused on the adolescent angst of the eponymous Ukranian youth (Anastasiia Budiashkina) trying to assimilate and succeed when she attends a Swiss National Sports Centre – attained extra contemporary poignancy with Russia’s aggression against the Ukraine.  This tale, told in solid unfussy aesthetic, attained equal personal and sociological depth with its tale of a young girl finding herself somewhat marooned, hounded by politics back home (in this case, the Euromaiden revolt) and finding her own way, her independence. Arguably, the feats of gymnastics and athleticism are a little compromised by being shot a little too close up and broken up with multiple edits (like most action sequences, mid-shot longer-takes seem best to me for really showing what the artist is doing). But this is a coming-of-drama that runs on understatement and low-wattage and is all more affecting and sharper for that.

 

Carlota Pereda’s ‘Piggy’ similarly pursued its young, bullied protagonist’s search for agency and dignity against a horror background. The blood-drenched poster, although true to the film, perhaps implies a straightforward revenge-of-the-bullied flick, and although it's that too, 'Piggy' comes more from the long heritage of touching, rambling and empathic bildungsroman. Laura Galán’s performance is compelling, bold and unforgettable as our bullied and put-upon heroine finds her Id unleashed in the form of a serial killer that takes a shine to her. There's then her moral dilemma of if she allows vengeance by proxy, thereby investigating the very revenge sub-genre we are in. If it ultimately doesn't challenge too much, it's a strong, self-aware drama whose move into genre shocks aren't necessarily celebratory. But even if it was waste-deep in genre, it was more interested in a Sara’s (an unforgettable Laura Galán) moral conflict, making this more insightful than just another revenge flick. The final showdown had a weight of themes and dilemma not usually found in such denouements, remaining true to all that had gone before by being primarily about Sara’s conscience and choices.

 

Hanna Bergholm’s ‘Hatching’ was a critical favourite which was like a mash-up of ‘Olga’ and ‘Piggy’: harassed sports girl manifesting her issues through the horror genre. If its themes were all on the surface, it had a neat monster, tended towards an arthouse feel and wasn’t afraid to go the distance. Following many contemporary horrors where the analogies, metaphors and symbolism are all on the surface (‘The Babadook’ and ‘Men’ come to mind, even ‘Slapface’) this is the tale of a mother fermenting something monstrous due to the relentless ambitions she has for her daughter. This is very much a matriarchy, a passive-aggressive power with the father-figure worn down and cuckolded. The tantrums of the younger son notwithstanding, this isn’t really a household allowing insurrection, and it’s the twinges of disillusion and rebellion that causes the supernatural upheaval.

 

It is very ikky, well performed and rendered in glossy magazine clarity, a little on the nose and a little Grimm’s fairy tale. But if there isn’t so much subtext, the film follows through on its metaphor in a manner that reflects and elucidates on the characters. The practical effects are a bonus: the monster is unsettling and unforgettable*. There is something equally stylish and visceral offered by ‘Hatching’, a creature-feature with arthouse executon and intention, that makes this a highly enjoyable and an often discomforting horror coming-of-age, even if only for Sophia Heikkilä’s smile.

 

I had the bonus of not knowing ‘Hatching’ would be a creature feature, having just picked up the positive reputation without knowing so much. So when the egg cracked and it the creature appeared, I chuckled to myself with delight.

 

If ‘Piggy’ and ‘Hatching’ were embroiled in the negative pressures of mother-daughter relationships, Cécile Ducrocq’s ‘Her Way’ (‘Une femme du monde’) was another female-helmed delve into parenting, this time what a mother will do for her son, despite the challenge of being a sex worker. Making no judgements, however wrongheaded Marie (a formidable Laure Calamy) could be, it was empathetic to all concerned and reached respectful conclusions. We all have to find our own way. 

Céline Sciamma proved again with ‘Petite Maman’ that she has remarkable affinity capturing childhood. With a bit of magic realism, this paean to mother-daughter bond had fairy tale allusions whilst still having a grounded, realist vibe, creating an overall respect for the intelligence and imagination of children. Celine Sciamma sees cinema as consolatory, and ‘Petite Maman’ certainly works directly from that foundation. A little childhood fantasy opens up all kinds of ruminations about generational, parental and peer relationships, if not about childhood fantasy itself. And being Sciamma, it’s all done without any feeling of excess, sentimentality or manipulation. Except we’ll allow the one moment where exuberant music makes a simple moment transcendent.

 

Laura Wandal’s ‘Playground’, however, was gruelling and upsetting to an extent that no horror or magic realism could reach. Its realistic portrayal of the matter-of-fact confusion, psychological and physical bullying of school life achieved an honesty about the bewilderment and the micro- and macro-cruelties that young children have to suffer and survive every day. A stark, truthful portrayal of the baffling drama and grinder of childhood confusions and bullying. The camera stays close to the faces of our young protagonists so there’s no doubt or reprieve from empathising with them or the bewilderment and suffering conveyed in Maya Vanderbeque and Gunter Duret’s expressions. Somewhat heart-breaking.And its message that love and bonds are all we are left with convinced and hit harder than a hundred other films.

 

Eskel Vogt’s ‘The Innocents’ did this with a horror-and-shock twist on the super-power genre. A handful of preteens discover they have powers but are too young and immature to fully control their feelings. As if Céline Sciamma filmed ‘Chronicle’, ‘The Innocents’ uses its kitchen sink realism on a Danish estate to underplay the increasingly devasting tale of bunch of young preteens discovering powers, to leave audiences underpredicting the shocks forthcoming. And, of course, the adults and outside world hardly know. Immaculately told and sporting stunning young naturalistic performances, chilling and compelling.

 

But if you were after the warmth of childhood memories, there was Richard Linklater’s ‘Apollo 101/2: A Space Age childhood’. The wonderful rotoscoping only accentuates the picturebook nostaligia of a Summer of ’69 childhood, defined by the NASA town mileau and moonage daydreams. A little drifting, but it’s a pleasant, good-looking mood-piece underlined by gentle casual humour (“Mad” magazine in space) and Milo Coy’s insouciant performance.

 

 

A N I MA T I O N S

 

And to other animations:

 

Phil Tippett’s ‘Mad God’ was a small stop-motion wonder. The most likely general introduction to his work is the Millenium Falcon alien “chess” game in ‘Star Wars’. This was more like the semi-abstract stories of the Quay brothers, hooked on the macabre and stream-of-consciousness madness. It’s an experience rather than a story: an assassin goes into the underworld… and then Alex Cox turns up. There is the theme of the relentless punishment and ruthlessness of industrialised work-life, but mostly it works on nightmare logic. Perhaps lacking a magic narrative ingredient, but just sit back and marvel at the animation and miniatures, the design, the cruelty and the animated gore.

 

The anthology ‘The House’ also provided something quite different, delving into various genres and moods that ranged from the Gothic to the creepy to an ensemble piece at the end of the world. 

By contrast, ‘The Bob’s Burger Movie’ was just a lot of fun. This was the year that I discovered that ‘Bob’s Burgers’ was my new comfort viewing. If you know the show, this transition to the big screen smoothly provides what you are looking for in a bigger bun: funny, frivolous, smart, daft. Another franchise would have overreached with its caricatures, but 'Bob's Burgers' as a series never quite overreaches, grounded by a sense of something quite humble. Great fun.

And as an example of how glorious daft animation can be, there was ‘Minions: the Rise of Gru’. You already know if this is going to be your thing, but the Minions gag – silly voices; slapstick – is an unpretentious source that keeps on giving. It also helps that the creators don’t coast. Silly and enjoyable, undemanding fun where the gags for the adults (Rolling Stones?) don't sneer down at the slapstick for the kids. (If I was *a lot* younger, lamenting "Kevin, Kevin, Kevin..." would be a hip refrain between me and friends.)

 

O u t  Th e r e

 

But there were a smattering of great films that were willing to go “Out There”, to throw in curveballs and/or the kitchen sink to deliver something entertaining if not new.

 

The true break through was The Little Multiverse Movie That Could, Daniel Scheinert and Daniel Kwan’s ‘Everything Everywhere All At Once’. A multiverse film for those not into superheroes? Perhaps I was expecting something in the style more of channel-hopping, but ‘Everything Everywhere all at Once’ is grounded in domestic drama even as it embraces the mayhem of the alternative dimensions. It’s fast, furious and consistently amusing, stuffed with inventive asides, googly-eyes and film homages – not only ‘2001’, ‘Ratatouille’ and martial arts  Mexican wrestling films but one alternative world is a Wong Kar Wai reality – but then spends the last third belabouring its points about family. It’s this sentimentality that is more tiresome than the multiverse, but there’s a whole lot of fun being had and Jamie Lee Curtis is obviously having one hell of a party.

 

 

Robert Eggers went for broke with ‘The Northman’ 

and Paul Verhoeven proved as much as a prankster and subversive as ever with ‘Benedetta’. Both earnest in its targets and trolling the easily outraged. A full-blooded mash-up of historical drama and nunsploitation... evocatively mounted and as slippery as Verhoeven always is.

 

And then there was Zach Cregger’s ‘Barbarian’. I am so, so grateful and lucky that I got to see it at FrightFest before anyone knew even a smidgen of what it was, so all the twists and ton al changes hit me exactly as they should in a way that isn’t possible now, what with its reputation and all. It’s the kind of film that if you have seen it, you are likely to think that even the promotional pictures hint at too much. As this film is especially best served cold, I will just leave it at: it’s good and brilliantly gamed.

 

Of course, the horror genre is the home of the outrageous, so we also got Travis Stevens’ ‘A Wounded Fawn’. With some formal play, style, psychedelica, and great performances, this pumps colourful juice in the serial killer genre. It’s a kind of abstract revenge and Final Girl flick where the murderer-in-denial is tormented seemingly by a group of performance artists (embodying his obsession with myths). Trippy and artfully done and topped off with an audacious closing credits sequence.

 

And ‘Titane’, in which Julia Ducournau takes the discomfort, body horror, black humour and farce, jaw-dropping boldness, etc., of the "Brazilian" scene in her previous film "Raw" and shows she can make it last a full-length feature. A pure oddity that any Cronenberg fan would take to with its mash-up of sex and technology.

 

And speaking of David Cronenberg: ‘Crimes of theFuture’ found him updating the themes that dominated his early work through his latterday slickness and control. Stuffed full of ideas that you could mull over long after and as prescient as ever. 

 

But although Sam Raimi snuck in some welcome horror touches to ‘Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness’ wasn’t so much. The 'other' multiverse movie of the moment, and this one may have a bigger budget but it’s less surprising and makes less use of the limitless possibilities of its alternative realities. However, there’s plenty of Raimi trying to push it with horror stuff (even down to its conflation between motherhood and monstrousness) when Strange must go up against The Scarlet Witches’ merciless, seemingly undefeatable brooding. This and the cameos keep things diverting and Cumberbach and Olsen know what they’re doing, giving it all a touch of class.

 

And Jaume Collet-Serra’s ‘Black Adam’ was even more ho-hum. Average super-hero stuff with Johnson trying to play a little against type, but we aren't fooled. Overstuffed with backstory and punch-ups and inclined to reduce its muddled  political aspirations more than mouthpieces and simplistic gestures. Aside from Johnson, Hodge and Bronson make meals of scraps as Hawkman and Dr Fate, but everyone else is given little room to breathe, although  Bodhi Sabongui dominates as the over-confident, enthused, cocky-but-charming kid as the audience avatar.

 

Rather, it was up to something like the more modest ‘Werewolf By Night’ special by Michael Giacchino to deliver the comic book fun.

 

And for blockbuster superhero bravura/indulgence, there was ‘The Batman’ from Matt Reeves. There was plenty to admire even at three hours: I, for one never was bored and intrigued/entertained throughout until the third act delivered slightly different ingredient to boost interest again for the showdown. But your mileage may vary, of course.

 

I possibly enjoyed Jordan Peele’s ‘Nope’ more on a superficial than those looking obsessively for meanings and symbolism – which they found – but I conceded that I may thinks it gels better on a second watch. 

 

Alex Garland’s ‘Men’ provided me with lots of fun debates with a pal that didn’t like at all and another that thought it was too on-the-nose. Yes, but in a way that makes me laugh with glee when horror sheds all the allusions and gets on with the gratuitous. It’s the same response when the shell cracked and I realised what ‘Hatching’ was going to be.   

 

‘Deadstream’ by Joseph and Vanessa Winter was a title and premise that I wasn’t intrigued by, but within minutes, the FrightFest audience were laughing themselves giddy.  Me too, and I think this might be the film this year where I let all thoughts go and just enjoyed myself a riot.

 

Showcasing Joseph Winter’s brilliant comic performance, this is both hilarious and scary. The relatively new internet culture genre is truly finding its footing, and perhaps reaping more multi-layered rewards than just straight Found Footage, including the social media influencer culture. Certainly, our funny internet-celebrity protagonist has to face manifestations of his own fame-hungry demons.

 

Peppered with many great one-liners that keep on coming, and details that reap narrative rewards later, belying its seemingly superficial veneer. Things set up early on – and as we know we’re in a horror film, amuse us – still manage to reap rewards and laughs when coming to fruition. Especially with a second watch, the deftness and smart plotting becomes apparent. But, again, considering how daft this is, there is just something inherently creepy and unnerving about empty buildings like this. I admit also to being on edge several  times. And yes I was happily suckered and jumped.

... more to come....

 

Guillermo Del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities

Lot 36

Director – Guillermo Navarro

Writers – Regina Corrado, based on an original story by Guillermo del Toro 

Stars – Tim Blake Nelson, Sebastian Roché, Elpidia Carrillo

Graveyard Rats

Director – Vincenzo Natali

Writers – Guillermo del Toro, based on a short story by Henry Kuttner 

Stars – David Hewlett, Alexander Eling, Ish Morris

The Autopsy

Director – David Prior

Writers – David S. Goyer, Michael Shea, based on the short story by Guillermo del Toro

Stars – F. Murray Abraham, Glynn Turman, Luke Roberts

The Outside

Director - Ana Lily Amirpour

Writers - Haley Z. Boston, Emily Carroll based on a short story by Guillermo del Toro

Stars – Kate Micucci, Martin Starr 

Pickman’s Model

Director – Keith Thomas

Writers - Lee Patterson, Guillermo del Toro based on a short story by H.P. Lovecraft 

Stars – Ben Barnes, Crispin Glover, Oriana Leman

Dreams in the Witch House

Director – Catherine Hardwicke

Writers – Mika Watkins, Guillermo del Toro based on a short story by H.P. Lovecraft

Stars – Rupert Grint, Ismael Cruz Cordova, DJ Qualls

The Viewing

Director – Panos Cosmatos

Writers – Panos Cosmatos, Aaron Stewart-Ahn, Guillermo del Toro

Stars – Peter Weller, Steve Agee, Eric André

The Murmuring

Director – Jennifer Kent

Writers – Jennifer Kent, based on a short story by Guillermo del Toro

Stars – Essie Davis, Andrew Lincoln, Greg Ellwand

‘Guillermo Del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities’ is a handsomely mounted series, containing many vivid, memorable performances and set pieces. It’s a much more intriguing and impressive selection than the cartoonery and scrappiness of ‘Creepshow’, and arguably more consistent (different aims, of course). Del Toro introduces each episode, pulling an item from the puzzle-box-like cabinet that triggers the story forthcoming and names the director. This generosity also acts as a badge of quality, for this is a bunch of pretty esteemed filmmakers. Ultimately, it’s a cut above as a selection. 

In the first episode, ‘Lot 36’, Tim Blake Nelson’s angry performance is all. It’s directed by Guillermo Navarro who has collaborated with Del Toro several times previously and is chiefly a cinematographer (he did ‘The Devil’s Bone’, ‘Hellboy’ and ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’, for example). The setting of a storage facility and Nelson’ abrasiveness as Nick Appleton are the hooks, but the narrative is a bit front-loaded; meaning when things take a turn for the supernatural, it seems like it hasn’t left itself enough time. The monster is the kind beset by CGI and it’s just a bit average and underwhelming, despite a superior adult tone.

Vincenzo Natali’s ‘Graveyard Rats’ is the kind of genre fare that, having established its protagonist as somewhat reprehensible, sets about gleefully putting him through the slapstick horror wringer. Rats, claustrophobia, taphophobia and more horrors are poured onto greedy, graverobbing Masson’s head (a game David Hewitt) to absurdist amounts. Natali – who established his genre credentials with ‘Cube’, ‘Splice’ and many episodes of genre series – channels his inner-Raimi and delivers one of those wild horror rides that fits just nicely in the 40 minute format. Nothing original but Natali’s direction delivers a better and more enjoyable slice of EC comic-style Gothic terror than many. The dental examination of a drowned corpse was one to make me wince.

And if corpses being messed with makes you queasy, then ‘The Autopsy’ will hit your buttons. David Prior’s ‘The Empty Man’ had plenty of genre savvy and mashing-up and ‘The Autopsy’ exhibits further his sure hand. Starts off in earnest looking like a police procedural (a serial killer tale, perhaps) and then moves into realms more … otherworldy. It helps that it has scored a seasoned veteran like F. Murray Abraham as the lead, especially when he’s working solo for the most part and can carry it all effortlessly. The tone shifts subtly and the shocks creep up accumulating in a go-for-broke gruesome ending. A full bloodied horror that gives equal attention to creeps and squirms and, wherever else it goes, has no intention of pulling punches.

It's true that this series doesn’t really try with its titles. However, Ana Lily Amirpour’s ‘The Outside’ is the one that hits something heartfelt and horrific more than any other entry, It has an almost Joe Dante feel, in that Dante was good at surface gloss and the truly creepy in equal amounts, at serving up acidic slabs of brightly hued satire. Ana Lily Amirpour hit renown with ‘A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night’, so you know you’re in safe hands with the social commentary. Kate Micucci gives a brave performance as a woman who finds the pack of pretty but vacuous work colleagues fascinating and impenetrable and just wants to belong. Martin Starr’s performance as her husband is wonderfully warm and humane, and between these actors there’s a hook that goes deep. It’s the episode that has haunted me most and has begged that I mull it over. The shock did hit hard (oh yeah, of course: taxidermy) after the surreal turns had surprised, and it eventually ends up as tragedy. 

Keith Thomas’ ‘Pickwick’s Model’ has a winning period setting as an upcoming artist stumbles upon another whose paintings, in typical Lovecraftian fashion, acts as insights or instigations into untold otherworldly horrors. Or something. A chief pleasure of Lovecraft is that much of the horror remains abstract, of the imagination, untouchable. In visual adaptations, this can be a muddle, but this, as many are are prone, goes for what gross-out it can find for an anchor. Get past Crispin Glover’s distracting accent and it’s an entertaining if undemanding creepy tale.

But Catherine Hardwicke’s ‘Dreams in the Witch House’ is a depiction of goggle-eyed Rupert Grint stumbling through a Lovecraftian mess. Period recreation, the scary and the goofy and the maudlin barely hold together, leading to an end note that we don’t really care about. But it least it can be credited with the best title. 

Panos Cosmatos’ ‘The Viewing’, however, puts things firmly back in the singular vision vain. His beautifully composed shots, the auditory immersion breaking out into synth numbers to hit the pleasure zones, his broad use of colour plus his usual tweak of psychedelia – a kind of sunburnt trippiness – gives the simmering build-up and escalation a somewhat truer sensation of Lovecraftian horror, of meddling in and unleashing unimaginable horrors. One of Cosmatos’ dodgy guru types (Weller on fine form) gathers a group of artists and scientists together to try and penetrate the secrets of something he has acquired. The last image of set free horror is one to linger long after. 

Jennifer Kent’s ‘The Murmuring’ is the nadir of the series’ titles; yes it’s alluding to the murmurations of birds as well as ghostly voices, but even so. It gets all the marks for performances of Essie Davis and Andrew Lincoln and an increasingly unsettling build-up. Kent knows that jump-scares don’t haunt, even if she knows that noises in the night do. But as with her breakthrough triumph, ‘The Babadook’ there isn’t much subtext or thematic subtlety, with all the analogies pretty upfront. If the slow burn ultimately arrives at something quite routine - horror being a way to process grief, etc - there are enough creaks and bangs, empathy and quiet ghosts to hit the mark.

Bones and All

 

Bones and All

Director – Luca Guadagnino

Writers – David Kajganich (screenplay by), Camille DeAngelis (based on the novel by)

2022, Italy-United States

Stars – Timothée Chalamet, Taylor Russell, Mark Rylance

 

All I knew was that Luca Guadagnino was directing and that this was covered on the Evolution of Horror podcast. I knew nothing else, and that the poster looked like a coming-of-age drama but being featured on EOH peaked my interest even more. So, thoroughly clueless, the opening shocker came as a pleasant and gruesome surprise. Oh, so this’ll be the real deal, I thought. And it is that too.

 

[And here’s the spoiler alert.]

 

Then Maren (Taylor Russel) is left by her father and starts a road movie to find her mother. Then she meets a tour de force performance of ambiguous creepiness from Mark Rylance – a balancing act he keeps up right up to the end – and then meets Timothée Chalamet, translating their otherness as a junky hustler’s odyssey. This otherness, outsiderness, is what they call being an “eater”. Then they meet Michael Stuhlbarg, who matches Rylance creep-for-creep, possible threat for possible threat. It becomes obvious that this tale is almost as freewheeling as a Jarmusch ramble, except a little more control of the pace and a little trimming might have stopped the Young Adult source starting to dominate. This is despite the fact that the editing will chop short scenes to keep the flow (the opening montage of the empty school hallways that begins the film immediately set the tone and got me). And yes, we are in the realm where screenwriter David Kajganich says he doesn’t really think it’s a horror and seems a little disappointed when Mike Muncer says that’s how he sees it (Evolution of Horror podcast). Horror has long been gleefully eloquently mashing-up genres so somewhat dreamy coming-of-age horror for strong stomachs really shouldn’t be seen as beneath intelligence or sophisticated emotion.

 

But the horror moments are strong stuff, and the film-makers conviction that it had to be was why it had to be independently financed, surely why the supporting cast is so, so impressive – everyone gets a memorable showpiece – and why the YA tropes don’t quite come to dominate. Indeed, Guadagnino will fade out the dialogue when it threatens to get bad and leaves Reznor and Ross’ score or a moody song take over, which simultaneously circumnavigates cheesiness but steers unapologetically into wordless melodrama. As well as the eating.

 

Perhaps a little too slacker, a little too YA for those looking for straight-out horror, but it’s a fascinating wandering road movie horror with the dangerous youths just trying to mimic normality and fit in. That it takes its potentially adolescent concept of all-consuming love equating to cannibalism means it is never quite sentimental or silly - and the players steer clear of this too - grounding their moral conflicts in the gore set-pieces. And yes, as is typical of the road movie genre, it’s quite often a series of vignettes and for that occasionally it feels it isn’t quite gelling. But the cast are fantastic, it’s beautifully shot, Guadagnino leaning on the poetic-romantic and gonzo-gruesome in equal measure, and although it is not poignant or revelatory in its portrayal of outsiders, its meandering nature means you never quite know which genre it’s going to pit stop next. It also means you can take the morsels you want from it, romantic, mood piece, actor's showcase, arthouse road movie or horror.

Crimes of the Future

CRIMES OF THE FUTURE

Writer & Director - David Cronenberg

2022 ~ Canada

Stars - Viggo Mortensen, Léa Seydoux, Kristen Stewart

Judging a film on what has gone before surely only goes so far. Mark Kermode’s review has been reduced to mostly one just namechecking the obvious nods to Cronenberg’s previous works as if this mitigates ‘Crimes of the Future’s worth. But Cronenberg is totally self-aware and deliberate – oh, ‘Videodrome’ TVs; ‘Dead Ringers’ wish for a beauty pageant for internal organs, ‘Shivers’ autopsy; a chair that could be furniture from ‘Naked Lunch’, etc. – which surely means he is slotting this into the tapestry of what he originated. The ae debate. ‘Crimes of the Future’ even takes its title from Cronenberg’s earliest works; the conspiracies and underground rebel groups are the kind from ‘Scanners’ and the dirty dilapidated rooms and backstreets remind me of Interzone (‘Naked Lunch’). Saying “This is just like his earlier stuff and that was better” doesn’t really say much about how it therefore relates to Cronenberg’s oeuvre, or its independent merits, o. Easter egg spotting doesn’t illuminate more than homages, influences and derivatives. But when the artist is drawing from his own extensive back catalogue, and when that artist is Cronenberg, there’s more at play.  

If this namechecking is meant as a criticism of thematic and artistic repetition, and therefore inferiority and stunted artistic growth, I would argue that this too doesn’t quite enlighten: there’s Tarantino’s or Scorsese’s recourse to ensemble criminals, or Schrader’s lost male existential angst, or Bergman’s existential concerns, Ozu’s family dramas, or, etc. And if anyone has established his themes and held them close throughout a long career, it's Cronenberg. He is even credited with forming a subgenre known as body-horror.

Rather, that Cronenberg can still capture the spirit of the muse that set him off appeared a little remarkable to me, rather than reductive, considering how singular it is and with the evolution of his extensive filmography. ‘Crimes of the Future’ is just as talky, uneven, occasionally disturbing, visceral and not-quite-gelling, a little confusing, a little random, viscerally inventive and a little prescient as his earliest body-horrors. As soon as Mortenson said, “My bed needs new software,” I chuckled, because knew I was in Cronenberg’s world and therefore in safe hands for a somewhat messy palette of provocative ideas firing off here and there. But what we also have is the latter-day Cronenberg inclusion of pretty/slicker visuals and elegance smoothing down the scruffiness of exploitation. The opening shot of a boy framed with a sunken ship is a gorgeous holiday picture subversion. Then he eats a waste bin and the oddness is introduced to the narrative. That’s the surprise that sets questions; and then the mother murders the boy and that’s a shock. Then cut to a quite beautiful medium shot of an odd levitating bed-mechanism in which Mortensen is moaning in his sleep.

The husk of a ship also appears later as the backdrop to Saul Tester’s (Mortenson) clandestine meetings. Throughout there are clues to a ruined world that is hinted at but never explicated. The clues scattered around are what provide fun and discussion when trying to figure it out afterwards. The capsized society signified by the boat is at odds with the expense and luxury of the artists we follow, who indulge in body self-mutilation in a manifestation of cultural confusion of finding the human race has turned immune to pain. But there’s an obvious divide between the poverty and disenfranchisement alluded to by those grubby backstreets and the hipsters that are our protagonists.

It is the questions left hanging, the pictures you can extrapolate and paint that makes this more that sum of its parts. It’s focused on one subculture’s response to the next phase of human evolution, but its proposition that Those In Power will always try and thwart this and any arguable progression that strikes true. It also has a prod at Look At me Art culture without recourse to mobile phones. 

But then there’s some nudity which, for the first time in a Cronenberg film, felt to me to be gratuitous. And although some enjoy Kristen Stewart’s performance seemingly for camp value, its wink and neediness seem out-of-tune with the careful calibrations of tone elsewhere. But Cronenberg was always a little messy and uneven at times. Raw is the word, even if the ideas are serious and dense. 

That is, to say, even if you judge this lesser Cronenberg, ‘Crimes of the Future’ is still fully spiced with a headful of ideas that interrogate culture, evolution and technology and reaches existential and exploitational ruminations characteristic of this singular director. What this film tells is that Cronenberg is no less an interrogator of these themes than he ever was at this later point in his career.