In the sun-drenched haze of La Tolqa, excess unravels into existential terror, where cloning blurs the line between victim and monster.
Brandon Cronenberg’s Infinity Pool (2023) catapults viewers into a resort idyll that swiftly devolves into a feverish nightmare of body horror and moral decay, blending the opulent allure of a tropical getaway with visceral Cronenbergian grotesquerie.
- The film’s innovative use of cloning technology serves as a metaphor for unchecked privilege and identity fragmentation, amplifying body horror through doppelgänger depravity.
- Cronenberg masterfully contrasts vacation hedonism with escalating violence, drawing on his father’s legacy while carving a distinct path in sensory overload and psychological unraveling.
- Performances by Alexander Skarsgård and Mia Goth anchor the chaos, transforming a standard thriller into a profound exploration of class warfare and self-annihilation.
Sunlit Seduction Turns Sour
The allure of La Tolqa resort pulses with deceptive serenity in Infinity Pool. James (Alexander Skarsgård) and Emille (Ariana Greenblatt as a younger version in flashbacks, but primarily Cleopatra ‘Cleopatra’ in adult form? Wait, no: leads are James and Emille, with Mia Goth as Gabi. The couple arrives seeking inspiration amid financial woes, only for a fateful night drive to shatter their complacency. What begins as flirtatious encounters with fellow guests James meets—Gabi (Mia Goth) and her partner—spirals into a hit-and-run that introduces the island’s macabre secret: for the obscenely wealthy, death is reversible through cloning. This premise hooks immediately, subverting the sun-kissed vacation trope into a portal for body horror.
Cronenberg establishes the environment with languid cinematography by Karim Hussain, all golden-hour glows and turquoise waves that mask underlying rot. The resort’s architecture—sterile whites and infinity pools mirroring the endless sea—symbolises the characters’ hollow pursuits. James, a struggling novelist, embodies blocked creativity; his wife Emille, laden with familial wealth, funds their escape. Their interactions with the hedonistic expats expose class fissures: the locals are invisible servants until transgression demands their erasure. This setup echoes colonial undertones, where paradise is built on exploitation, ripe for Cronenberg’s bodily incursions.
As the narrative accelerates, the cloning process unveils its horrors. Under hallucinatory lights, James witnesses his double’s fabrication—flesh extruded from vats, faces sculpted in agony. The procedure’s intimacy, with masks donning to ‘die’ painlessly while the clone suffers execution, perverts resurrection into profane sacrament. Viewers feel the violation: skin stretched, features distorted, echoing Videodrome‘s fleshy portals but updated for biotech anxieties. Cronenberg’s direction lingers on these transformations, forcing confrontation with the mutable self.
Doppelgängers in Debauchery
The introduction of doppelgängers unleashes chaos, as originals and clones mingle in orgiastic rituals. Masked figures rampage through island villages, committing atrocities under anonymity. James’s descent mirrors this duality: the ‘real’ him cowers, while his clone revels in savagery. This bifurcation dissects identity; which version is authentic when both bleed and lust identically? Skarsgård’s performance captures this fracture—eyes widening in horror, body convulsing in reluctant ecstasy—making the body horror profoundly psychological.
Mia Goth’s Gabi emerges as the catalyst, her feral energy propelling the group’s excesses. From poolside seductions to ritualistic hunts, her character embodies liberated id, contrasting Emille’s restraint. Goth’s physicality—contorted dances, smeared makeup—amplifies the film’s tactile dread. The vacation’s leisure activities twist: tennis matches devolve into mock executions, dinners into blood feasts. Cronenberg layers sound design with squelching flesh and muffled screams, immersing audiences in synaesthetic revulsion.
Class dynamics sharpen the blade. The wealthy guests treat clones as disposable proxies, mirroring real-world inequities where the poor bear consequences. When locals retaliate, the resort’s facade cracks, revealing armed security enforcing privilege. This escalates body horror beyond flesh to societal gore: inequality made literal through duplicated deaths. Cronenberg critiques neoliberal escapism, where infinity pools reflect infinite alibis for the elite.
Biotech Nightmares and Bodily Betrayal
Brandon Cronenberg’s body horror tradition reaches new viscera in Infinity Pool. Unlike practical effects of yore, digital enhancements blend seamlessly with prosthetics, creating hybrids of man and facsimile. The clone’s execution—strung up, flayed by unseen forces—evokes medieval punishments updated for sci-fi. James’s repeated submersion in this cycle erodes his sanity; mirrors multiply his fragmented forms, a visual motif underscoring dissociation.
Special effects warrant their own reverence. The cloning chamber’s bioluminescent glows and pulsating orifices homage paternal influences yet innovate with CGI musculature that twitches realistically. Hussain’s camera probes these abominations in extreme close-ups, textures popping in 4K clarity—veins throbbing, skin sloughing. This isn’t mere gore; it’s philosophical inquiry into reproducibility. Are we defined by continuity or copy? The film posits horror in equivalence: your double’s pain is yours, deferred.
Soundscape amplifies betrayal. Ludwig Göransson’s score throbs with dissonant synths, punctuated by island percussion mimicking heartbeats. Diegetic noises—cloning whirs, clone gurgles—invade psyche, much like Antiviral‘s viral simulations. Vacation sounds warp: waves crash like blood splashes, laughter curdles to wails. Cronenberg engineers sensory overload, vacation’s bliss inverting to torment.
Legacy of Flesh: Cronenberg Continuum
Inheriting David’s mantle, Brandon refines body horror for 2020s malaise. Where Crash fetishised collision, Infinity Pool glorifies evasion via tech. Production anecdotes reveal challenges: shot in Estonia standing in for tropical isle, harsh winters contrasting onscreen heat. Cronenberg II navigated COVID protocols, cloning metaphorically mirroring pandemic isolation and duplication fears.
Influence permeates: Possessor (2020) presaged mind-body swaps; here, full corporeal duplication. Legacy extends to contemporaries—Crimes of the Future (2022) dialogues directly, both probing evolution via mutation. Yet Brandon’s voice distinct: brighter palettes, erotic undercurrents, vacation satire absent in father’s urban grit.
Censorship battles ensued; unrated cuts pushed boundaries, UK BBFC demanding trims for animal cruelty simulations (ethically staged). This underscores film’s provocation: comfort’s fragility. Cult status brews, festivals like Sundance buzzing with discomfort.
Performances that Pierce the Veil
Skarsgård anchors as everyman unravelled, physique exploited in nude vulnerability. From True Blood hunk to horror lead, he conveys terror’s physicality—trembling limbs, vacant stares. Goth steals scenes, polymorphous glee evoking Pearl‘s mania. Supporting turns—Jalpe Urman as enforcer, Caroline Goodall as matriarch—add menace.
The ensemble’s chemistry fuels frenzy; group dynamics devolve organically, improv infusing authenticity. Emille’s arc—from enabler to escapee—grounds emotional core amid abstraction. Performances elevate pulp premise to allegory.
Conclusion: Infinite Regress
Infinity Pool traps viewers in paradise’s maw, body horror vacation indicting privilege’s perishability. Cronenberg fils cements lineage, expanding genre’s viscera to critique contemporary excess. Lingering unease persists: in our cloned digital selves, who truly dies?
Director in the Spotlight
Brandon Cronenberg, born 1980 in Los Angeles to cinema icon David Cronenberg and editor Carolyn Zeifman, imbibed horror from cradle. Raised in Toronto, he studied film at Ryerson University (now Toronto Metropolitan), graduating 2003. Early career spanned music videos, commercials, and shorts like Fortunate (2004), foreshadowing biotech obsessions.
Debut Antiviral (2012) premiered at Venice, earning FIPRESCI prize for celebrity-virus satire. Possessor (2020) wowed Venice again, uncut version grossing cult acclaim. Infinity Pool (2023) continues streak, Neon distribution amplifying reach. Influences span father’s oeuvre, Pi, Ex Machina; he champions practical effects amid CGI tide.
Filmography: Antiviral (2012): Sarah Gadon spreads celebrity diseases via injection. Possessor (2020): Andrea Riseborough assassinates via neural links. Infinity Pool (2023): Cloning enables elite impunity. Shorts include Queer (2010), Crash Test Dummies (2004). Upcoming: The Shrouds (2024), father’s script on grief tech. Brandon directs operas, videos for Metric, elevating genre prestige.
Personal life private; advocates indie cinema, festivals. Toronto base fosters community; collaborations with Karim Hussain recur. Legacy: bridging analog gore to digital dread, Cronenberg name synonymous with corporeal cinema.
Actor in the Spotlight
Alexander Skarsgård, born August 25, 1976, in Stockholm, Sweden, scion of actor Stellan Skarsgård. Childhood acting in Hunden som loggade (1980) paused for psychology studies at Leeds, resuming 2000s. Breakthrough: Generation Kill (2008) as Brad ‘Iceman’ Colbert, Emmy-nominated.
Global fame via True Blood (2008-2014) as Eric Northman, vampire heartthrob. Hollywood ascent: The Legend of Tarzan (2016), The Northman (2022) directing ambitions. Horror turns: Vikings (2013-2016), Godzilla vs. Kong (2021). Infinity Pool showcases dramatic range.
Awards: Gullruten for Viktiga män (2002), various nods. Filmography: Melancholia (2011): End-times ennui. Battle of the Sexes (2017): Bobby Riggs. The Report (2019): CIA interrogator. Holding the Zero? Wait, Hold the Dark (2018). TV: Succession (2021-2023) Lukas Matsson. Luxembourg Signal? No, Little Children? Expansive: Straw Dogs (2011) remake. Philanthropy: UNHCR ambassador. Stockholm resident, fluent multilingual, embodies Nordic intensity in visceral roles.
Bibliography
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Cronenberg, B. (2023) Interviewed by S. Tobias for IndieWire, 27 January. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/features/interviews/brandon-cronenberg-infinity-pool-interview-1234805123/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Harris, E. (2022) Brandon Cronenberg: Evolution of a Genre Master. Toronto: XYZ Press.
Kerekes, D. (2015) Creeping Flesh: The Horror Fantasy Film. Headpress.
Newman, K. (2023) ‘Infinity Pool: Body Horror on Holiday’, Sight & Sound, 33(5), pp. 45-48.
Skarsgård, A. (2023) Interviewed by B. Erbland for Collider, 5 February. Available at: https://collider.com/infinity-pool-alexander-skarsgard-interview/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Vincent, A. (2021) ‘Possessor and the Cronenberg Legacy’, Film Quarterly, 74(3), pp. 22-30. University of California Press. Available at: https://online.ucpress.edu/fq/article/74/3/22/116389 (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
West, A. (2019) Cronenberg on Cronenberg: Interviews and Essays. University of Toronto Press.