A grotesque oddity, Cronenberg's 2nd feature, Crimes of the Future, evokes the same sense of transcendent magnetism as films like Eraserhead and 2001. The story unfolds like a series of connected dreams, ones which emerge from the edge of consciousness.
The narrative plottings and concerns are not unlike those that exist in other Cronenberg films. However, their unfolding feels so much looser and uninhibited, creating a similar sensation as removing rocks from your shoes, causing it to almost float along. I love this type of avant-garde cinema that feels like it can do anything at any point in time.
Beauty products designed by the deranged and ideological dermatologist Anton Rouge have lead to human mutation on such a cataclysmic scale that the entire population of sexually mature women has been eradicated. Rouge has since disappeared or perhaps died, and the film follows a languid disciple of his, Adrian Tripod.
Tripod is long and gaunt. A vampiric black coat coiled tightly around him creates a stark counterpoint to his pasty, white skin. It's his internal musings that serve as the only spoken words in the film. Shot without synchronized sound, Cronenberg extracts all dialogue while focusing exclusively on a shearing combination of indefinable noises which work somewhat like a score.
Sterile, geometric spaces encompass the characters' surroundings. They feature rational modern architecture full of straight lines and intersecting right angles. These austere and formal geometric patterns are not only inherent in the architecture but also constructed as obscure props, most noticeably during the film's introduction of its pedophilic cult where a dark void-like space is illuminated only from large, glowing monolithic rectangles.
Cronenberg creates a strong counterpoint between the composed and simplistic architectural geometry and the abstraction of mutation and intellectual perversion. In doing so, he sets up an evolutionary hierarchy where humanity, as we know it, sits in the middle between individuals who are undergoing a "psychic relapse" due to "intense genetic pressure" (basically these people are losing evolved human attributes like feet and have begun growing fins and flippers instead) and amoral, paraphilic entities who have moved beyond human emotions and ethics.
This is Cronenberg at his most experimental. Crimes of the Future certainly is not an easy watch, but I found it to be engaging. I see the film's intentional opaqueness as one of its strongest attributes, because it becomes so otherworldly. That being said, I can also understand how it could be perceived as a frustrating and unapproachable method of filmmaking.
The narrative plottings and concerns are not unlike those that exist in other Cronenberg films. However, their unfolding feels so much looser and uninhibited, creating a similar sensation as removing rocks from your shoes, causing it to almost float along. I love this type of avant-garde cinema that feels like it can do anything at any point in time.
Beauty products designed by the deranged and ideological dermatologist Anton Rouge have lead to human mutation on such a cataclysmic scale that the entire population of sexually mature women has been eradicated. Rouge has since disappeared or perhaps died, and the film follows a languid disciple of his, Adrian Tripod.
Tripod is long and gaunt. A vampiric black coat coiled tightly around him creates a stark counterpoint to his pasty, white skin. It's his internal musings that serve as the only spoken words in the film. Shot without synchronized sound, Cronenberg extracts all dialogue while focusing exclusively on a shearing combination of indefinable noises which work somewhat like a score.
Sterile, geometric spaces encompass the characters' surroundings. They feature rational modern architecture full of straight lines and intersecting right angles. These austere and formal geometric patterns are not only inherent in the architecture but also constructed as obscure props, most noticeably during the film's introduction of its pedophilic cult where a dark void-like space is illuminated only from large, glowing monolithic rectangles.
Cronenberg creates a strong counterpoint between the composed and simplistic architectural geometry and the abstraction of mutation and intellectual perversion. In doing so, he sets up an evolutionary hierarchy where humanity, as we know it, sits in the middle between individuals who are undergoing a "psychic relapse" due to "intense genetic pressure" (basically these people are losing evolved human attributes like feet and have begun growing fins and flippers instead) and amoral, paraphilic entities who have moved beyond human emotions and ethics.
This is Cronenberg at his most experimental. Crimes of the Future certainly is not an easy watch, but I found it to be engaging. I see the film's intentional opaqueness as one of its strongest attributes, because it becomes so otherworldly. That being said, I can also understand how it could be perceived as a frustrating and unapproachable method of filmmaking.