David Cronenberg's filmography is a mostly unexplored area for me.
I've always meant to watch a lot of his films, especially his
adaptations of Don DeLillo's 'Cosmopolis' and J. G. Ballard's
'Crash', books I rate very highly. The one film of his I have
watched, however, is another adaptation of another book I really
enjoyed reading; William Burroughs' 'Naked Lunch'. The themes and
tonality of these three books shaped a lot of my own thinking and
writing. I felt that if I was inspired by these novels as well
then I would find a lot of interest in Cronenberg's work. His
blurring of science fiction, horror and, to some extent, comedy,
heavy on ideas as well as having a decent amount of body horror
fascinated me. I'm surprised its taken me this long to actually get
round to watching another. I chose 'Videodrome' for this list
because, to me, it seemed to have the perfect balance of body and
psychological horror, whilst placing its ideas at the forefront.
'Videodrome' follows the story of a CEO, played by James Woods, of a small television station that broadcasts softcore pornography and extremely violent programmes, he argues on a talk show near the beginning that the station relies on its sensational programming to stay afloat. He discovers a programme called “Videodrome”, apparently broadcast from Malaysia, that features victims getting brutally tortured and then mutilated. Interested, he attempts to track down the producers of “Videodrome”, only to be led down a psychedelic rabbit hole where “his” reality becomes indistinguishable from frequent, and often gruesome, televisual hallucinations. The film descends into a madness from which it never recovers. I fully expected there to be another twenty minutes on the third act, tying up all the loose and unexplained ends. That the film had the audacity to end so (arguably) openly, shows that there's a real vision behind the camera, giving the film a sort of raw anger which is entirely justified in its rationality. The blend of sci-fi and horror as well as its partial silliness remove any notion of pretension, leading one to expect a clear cut ending. And one can only really appreciate the power Cronenberg has over his own resolution.
'Videodrome'
came out in 1983, a time when a moral crisis in society arose out of
the controversial “video nasty” and exploitation film genres.
Cronenberg deals with this controversy head-on, crafting a film that
is all ideas. It has all the catch-phrases and hypotheses of a
philosophy, i.e. “Long live the new flesh” and “The television
screen is the retina of the mind's eye”, and these make it
endlessly fascinating and re-watchable. With similar “video
nasties” lurking around the corners of the internet and a
screen-reliant culture, the horror of 'Videodrome' feels as relevant
today as it would have on its initial release. Furthermore it is a
“horror” that fits my criteria of the genre as its all about
human ideas, and ones that affect us all. The genius of the
horror is the fourth-wall breaking, self-aware quality it has. The
viewer is watching 'Videodrome' on a screen as James Woods watches a
different but equally (if not a lot more) grotesque “Videodrome”
on another screen. The difficulty he has in distinguishing reality
from fantasy is an exaggerated metaphor for the difficulty those who
want to censor exploitation films have in distinguishing the fantasy
of the films from their own reality. Even though it was originally
censored upon release, this is ideally what Cronenberg would have
wanted.
It
is through these psychological aspects that 'Videodrome' gets its
body horror right. Gratuitous violence and gore are only truly
justified in horror when they make a point, as they do in this film.
Its as if Cronenberg has found a perfect equilibrium between not just
psychological horror and body horror, but also style and substance.
Watching it reminded me a lot of another visionary stylist; David
Lynch. Both directors have their trademarks, both are similarly
frequent in their output and both dance around the edges of horror.
Cronenberg can be described as sci-fi, horror, comedy, but he is none
of those things before his own unique style, and the same is true of
Lynch. Yet, I feel as if I have much more reason to listen to
Cronenberg because he is a lot less self indulgent than Lynch, who
delights in being elusive. 'Videodrome' works with its own internal
rationality, its as if Cronenberg wants his audience to
understand it, as if he has a point to make. Whereas Lynch is a true
surrealist and would never let his films be confined to rational
arguments. Cronenberg feels grounded in literature about ideas, while
Lynch is grounded in surrealist imagery. 'Videodrome' is far leaner
and punchier than anything I've seen from Lynch. This isn't
necessarily a bad thing on Lynch's behalf, but in the case of
'Videodrome' it feels totally like it gets straight to a point and
doesn't waste the audience's time.
Sometimes
this lean, raw energy can overshadow the mainstream credibility of
the film, but I found these apparent flaws to really heighten its tone. Its rough around the edges, but all the more fun
for it and shining when it gets to the really punchy images. Even the
outdated, prosthetic effects have a sort of vintage charm which only
contributes to the Cronenberg style. In an age of CGI, practical
special effects and old school gore seem ever more like some sort of
grotesque labour of love for the film maker. For all the appeal in
the datedness of its style, 'Videodrome' still speaks volumes today
and is completely pertinent in its substance. I look forward, in
future, to watching every other film in Cronenberg's rich
back-catalogue.
Reminded
me of: Altered States, The Matrix, Jacob's Ladder
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