In a sterile future where the thrill of surgery eclipses every human desire, David Cronenberg resurrects his signature obsession with the mutating flesh.

David Cronenberg’s return to the screen after an eight-year hiatus with Crimes of the Future (2022) feels less like a new venture and more like a visceral homecoming to the raw, pulsating heart of body horror. This film, echoing his early experimental roots while confronting contemporary anxieties about evolution and technology, invites us to dissect its layers of meaning, tracing the genre’s transformation from gritty 1970s underground to polished modern dystopia.

  • Cronenberg masterfully evolves body horror from practical effects spectacles of the 80s to philosophical inquiries into human adaptation in a post-evolutionary world.
  • The film’s exploration of ‘surgery as sex’ recontextualises eroticism through pain and transformation, building on decades of Cronenbergian motifs.
  • Through its characters and inner organs performances, it critiques societal norms around the body, legacy media, and the commodification of mutation.

The Flesh That Wants to Evolve

At its core, Crimes of the Future unfolds in a near-future where humanity grapples with Accelerated Evolution Syndrome, a condition compelling bodies to sprout new, unregistered organs. Saul Tenser (Viggo Mortensen), a renowned performance artist, and his partner Caprice (Léa Seydoux) stage live surgeries that expose these anomalies to adoring audiences. Their act blurs the line between medical procedure and erotic spectacle, with Tenser enduring the extractions on a custom-made chair that cradles him like a lover. This setup immediately immerses viewers in Cronenberg’s universe, where the body’s betrayal is both horrifying and seductive.

The narrative expands to encompass a shadowy bureaucracy registering novel organs, underground cults venerating evolution, and Lang (Kristen Stewart), a timid registrar whose quiet fascination hints at deeper yearnings. As Tenser consumes synthetic foods designed to provoke mutations, his body becomes a canvas for unchecked growth, symbolising humanity’s futile resistance to change. The film’s world eschews traditional violence for something more intimate: the slow, deliberate violation of flesh from within, a motif Cronenberg pioneered in his 1970 original Crimes of the Future but refines here with contemporary precision.

What elevates this beyond mere grotesquery is the philosophical undercurrent. Evolution, once a blind Darwinian force, now accelerates under human influence, questioning whether we control our biology or it controls us. Tenser’s pain during surgeries morphs into ecstasy, echoing the masochistic pleasures of earlier Cronenberg works like Videodrome (1983), where technology invaded the body. Here, the invasion is endogenous, a rebellion of organs against obsolescence, forcing audiences to confront their own bodily impermanence.

Visually, the film revels in stark, clinical aesthetics: metallic chairs sculpted like ancient thrones, dimly lit chambers humming with anticipation, and close-ups of quivering innards that pulse with unnatural life. Howard Shore’s score, sparse and percussive, amplifies the tension, mimicking the rhythm of incisions. These elements coalesce to create a sensory experience that lingers, much like the aftertaste of a forbidden meal.

Surgery as the Ultimate Aphrodisiac

Cronenberg boldly declares ‘surgery is the new sex,’ a proclamation embodied in every frame. Tenser and Caprice’s relationship thrives on the scalpel’s kiss; their intimacy peaks during operations, where Caprice’s gloved hands navigate his innards with lover’s tenderness. This inversion of eroticism draws from the 80s body horror renaissance, where The Fly (1986) fused romance with metamorphosis, but pushes further into ritualistic territory. Audiences in the film applaud not for the reveal of organs, but for the raw vulnerability displayed, turning pathology into performance art.

Contrast this with the film’s antagonists, like the evolutionary zealots led by Brechtian (Don McKellar), who view mutation as sacred duty. Their clandestine gatherings evoke 90s cult aesthetics, reminiscent of eXistenZ (1999), where flesh and game pods merged in orgiastic excess. Yet Crimes tempers excess with restraint, allowing philosophical dialogues to simmer amid the gore. Lang’s arc, from bureaucratic drone to willing participant in a climactic evisceration, underscores how even the suppressed crave transcendence through bodily rupture.

The evolution of body horror shines through these dynamics. From the low-budget cosmetics horrors of early 70s cinema to the practical effects mastery of 80s icons like Rick Baker on Videodrome, Cronenberg has always prioritised the tangible over CGI slickness. In 2022, with digital alternatives abundant, his commitment to prosthetics—crafted by Howard Berger—grounds the surreal in the convincingly corporeal, bridging retro techniques with modern narrative depth.

This evolution mirrors broader genre shifts: post-Alien (1979) xenobiology gave way to internal terrors in The Thing (1982), and now, in an era of biohacking and CRISPR, Crimes extrapolates personal agency over genetic destiny. It critiques consumer culture too, with synthetic foods as metaphors for processed desires, much like the 80s’ fascination with junk food and excess nostalgia.

Mutant Organs and Cultural Digestion

Tenser’s diet of purple bars and vaginal cakes isn’t mere eccentricity; it’s a catalyst for organogenesis, paralleling how media consumption shapes identity. The film digests its own legacy, referencing Cronenberg’s oeuvre through motifs like the ear tumour in Videodrome or the fly’s pod in The Fly. New organs become badges of authenticity in a world craving novelty, akin to 80s toy crazes where He-Man figures boasted ever-more elaborate accessories.

Performance artist circles fetishise these mutations, livestreaming surgeries to underground followers, evoking the VHS tape-trading culture of 80s horror fandoms. The National Organ Registry, with its Kafkaesque paperwork, satirises regulatory overreach, a theme resonant in today’s biotech debates but rooted in Cronenberg’s early critiques of institutional control.

Iconic scenes, like the public chair autopsy or the beachside consumption ritual, pulse with retro energy. The former recalls 90s splatterfests, while the latter’s primal savagery harks back to Shivers (1975) parasites. Sound design enhances unease: wet squelches, muffled groans, and the metallic snip of shears create an ASMR of horror, drawing viewers into the viscera.

Critically, the film’s meaning fractures along evolutionary lines. Is adaptation progress or devolution? Tenser embodies stasis, his pain a refusal of change, while zealots embrace chaos. This tension reflects 80s anxieties over AIDS and genetic engineering, updated for climate-altered futures where bodies must adapt or perish.

Legacy of the Inner Artist

Crimes of the Future cements Cronenberg’s influence on horror’s evolution, inspiring directors like Ari Aster and Ti West to probe psychosomatic frontiers. Its 2022 release amid pandemic body consciousness amplified relevance, with masks and vaccines mirroring organ registrations. Collectors prize the original 1970 print for its raw futurism, while the new cut appeals to vinyl enthusiasts spinning Shore’s soundtracks.

Production tales reveal ingenuity: shot in Greece amid COVID restrictions, the team built 18 custom chairs, each a biomechanical marvel. Mortensen’s method immersion, fasting for authenticity, echoes 80s actors like Jeff Goldblum’s fly transformation. These behind-the-scenes efforts underscore the film’s handmade ethos in a digital age.

Ultimately, Crimes challenges nostalgia itself. Retro fans revel in callbacks, yet the film urges forward mutation, rejecting 80s perfection for imperfect evolution. Its meaning? Bodies are battlegrounds for desire, ideology, and survival, forever reshaping horror’s boundaries.

Director in the Spotlight: David Cronenberg

David Cronenberg, born March 15, 1943, in Toronto, Canada, emerged from a Jewish intellectual family, his father a writer and mother a musician, fostering early fascinations with science fiction and the grotesque. Studying literature at the University of Toronto, he pivoted to filmmaking, debuting with experimental shorts like Stereo (1969) and Crimes of the Future (1970), low-budget visions of sterility and mutation that defined his ‘Venereal Horror’ style.

His feature breakthrough, Shivers (1975), unleashed parasitic aphrodisiacs on a high-rise, blending sex and violence to scandalise audiences and censors. Rabid (1977) starred Marilyn Chambers as a plague vector, escalating his bio-terror motifs. The 1980s golden era birthed Scanners (1981), infamous for its head-exploding scene, Videodrome (1983) probing media viruses with James Woods, and The Dead Zone (1983), a Stephen King adaptation showcasing psychic dread.

The Fly (1986) marked mainstream acclaim, grossing over $40 million with Jeff Goldblum’s tragic teleportation mishap, earning Oscar nods for makeup. Dead Ringers (1988) delivered Jeremy Irons’ dual-role as infertile gynaecologists spiralling into madness. Entering the 90s, Naked Lunch (1991) adapted Burroughs surrealistically, followed by m butterflies (1993) on conjoined twins, and Crash (1996), a Palme d’Or winner scandalising with car-crash fetishism.

eXistenZ (1999) delved into virtual flesh-games, starring Jennifer Jason Leigh. The 2000s saw Spider (2002) with Ralph Fiennes, A History of Violence (2005) revitalising his career with Oscar-nominated Viggo Mortensen, and Eastern Promises (2007), another Mortensen collaboration earning tattooed brutality acclaim. A Dangerous Method (2011) explored Freud-Jung tensions with Keira Knightley, and Cosmopolis (2012) adapted DeLillo with Robert Pattinson.

After Maps to the Stars (2014), Cronenberg returned with Crimes of the Future (2022), reaffirming his mastery. Influenced by Burroughs, Ballard, and Kubrick, his oeuvre dissects body-mind schisms, capitalism’s corporeal toll, and technology’s invasiveness. Awards include Companion of the Order of Canada (2014), and retrospectives at Cannes and TIFF cement his legacy as horror’s philosopher-king.

Actor in the Spotlight: Viggo Mortensen

Viggo Peter Mortensen Jr., born October 20, 1958, in New York City to Danish-American roots, spent childhood in Venezuela, Argentina, and Denmark, mastering languages and equestrian skills. Returning to the US, he studied at St. Lawrence University, then pursued acting in New York theatre, debuting in Swimming to Cambodia (1987) off-Broadway.

Film breakthrough came with Witness (1985) alongside Harrison Ford, followed by Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994) as a drag-performer lover. The Portrait of a Lady (1996) with Nicole Kidman honed his intensity. Cronenberg’s A History of Violence (2005) as mobster Richie Cusack earned Gotham Award nods, launching collaborations.

The Lord of the Rings trilogy (2001-2003) as Aragorn catapulted him to stardom, grossing billions; his swordplay and beard became iconic. Post-trilogy, Eastern Promises (2007) garnered Oscar, BAFTA, and Golden Globe nominations for Nikolai, the tattooed driver. A Dangerous Method (2011) portrayed Freud opposite Michael Fassbender’s Jung.

Independent turns include Appaloosa (2008) as a marshal, The Road (2009) father in apocalypse earning Saturn Award, Crimson Tide no—wait, Good (2008) as conflicted Nazi. On the Road (2012) as Old Bull Lee, Everybody Has a Plan (2012) dual Spanish roles. The Two Faces of January (2014), Far from Men (2014) in French/Algerian setting.

Captain Fantastic (2016) as off-grid dad won Cannes Un Certain Regard, Green Book no—Eastern Promises redux impact. Captain Fantastic praised, then The Dead Don’t Die (2019) zombie cop, Falling (2020) directorial debut as abusive father. In Crimes of the Future (2022), Tenser showcases pained vulnerability. Recent: The Dead Goats no, Another World (2024). Poet, painter, publisher (Perceval Press), musician, Mortensen embodies polymath artistry, shunning typecasting for transformative depth.

<

h2 style=”text-align: “Keep the Retro Vibes Alive

Loved this trip down memory lane? Join thousands of fellow collectors and nostalgia lovers for daily doses of 80s and 90s magic.

Follow us on X: @RetroRecallHQ

Visit our website: www.retrorecall.com

Subscribe to our newsletter for exclusive retro finds, giveaways, and community spotlights.

Bibliography

Beard, W. (2006) The Artist as Monster: David Cronenberg Interviews. University of Toronto Press.

Handlinger, J. (2022) ‘Crimes of the Future: Cronenberg’s Body Horror Redux’, Sight and Sound, 32(7), pp. 45-49.

McKellar, D. (2023) ‘Surgery Chairs and Synthetic Foods: Making Crimes of the Future’, Fangoria, 45(2), pp. 22-30. Available at: https://www.fangoria.com/crimes-future-behind-scenes (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Shore, H. and Cronenberg, D. (2022) Crimes of the Future: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack. Milan Records.

Timpano, N. (2023) Body Horror Evolution: From Videodrome to Now. McFarland & Company.

Got thoughts? Drop them below!
For more articles visit us at https://dyerbolical.com.
Join the discussion on X at
https://x.com/dyerbolicaldb
https://x.com/retromoviesdb
https://x.com/ashyslasheedb
Follow all our pages via our X list at
https://x.com/i/lists/1645435624403468289