David Cronenberg is not the kind of filmmaker whose work you go
check out on a full stomach. Cronenberg's résumé
(Shivers, The Brood, Rabid, Scanners, Videodrome, The Fly,
Dead Ringers) lurches from one queasy horror assault to another.
Not satisfied to churn out the usual stalk-and-slash, Cronenberg
has stuck to his own unique, highbrow, psychosexual ruminations
on how the mind (usually horribly warped) affects the body (usually
hideously mutilated). Illnesses, fears, desires and psychoses
are all made flesh in the world of David Cronenberg. The creepy
Canadian stepped a bit beyond the pale last year, though, with
the largely unwatchable sicko sex romp Crash. Although
the film highlighted all of Cronenberg's usual obsessions, it
lacked
the otherworldly visual metaphors that Cronenberg is famous for.
After a couple questionable literary detours (Crash and
the similarly skewed Naked Lunch), Cronenberg returns to
familiar territory with eXistenZ, a freakshow sci-fi film
mixing virtual reality, organic video games and mutated frogs.
The film fits solidly in with Cronenberg's earlier oeuvre and
should find a small, but receptive audience among brainy gore
aficionados.
Jennifer Jason Leigh stars as Allegra Geller, a futuristic video
game designer whose latest virtual reality romp, eXistenZ,
is about to become the newest rage. Unfortunately, during a testing
session, a crazed "reality" fanatic tries to assassinate
the game goddess. We can tell right off the bat we're in prime
Cronenberg territory because, instead of the usual Smith &
Wesson, the assassin employs a nasty flesh-covered gun that shoots
human teeth. Allegra now finds herself on the run from assorted
unknown assassins with a befuddled marketing assistant (Jude Law)
in tow.
From this strange beginning, Cronenberg spins a dark, dingy anti-matter
version of Alice's Adventures Through the Looking Glass.
Allegra believes that her precious video game has been damaged
in the assassination attempt. The only way to check on it is to
go inside the game with her reluctant bodyguard and playtest the
thing.
Unlike other recent movie attempts at "virtual reality,"
the computerized world of Allegra's eXistenZ game doesn't even
bother tapping into traditional sci-fi video games. In fact, it
looks exactly like a David Cronenberg movie--just like the real
world, only bloodier, slimier and a whole lot more icky. Which
brings up the important question, "Why in the hell would
anyone want to spend time inside a David Cronenberg movie?"
I like watching his movies, but the idea of being able to smell,
touch or taste them just flips my flapjacks. I'll stick with Space
Invaders, thank you.
Before long, our hero and heroine are engaged in a computerized
Mobius loop of murder, mystery and the aforementioned mutated
frogs. Events inside the game soon begin to mirror events outside
the game (or is it vice versa?), but the expected question of
"What is real and what is virtual reality?" soon becomes
moot. Even at his most documentary-like, Cronenberg rarely dwells
anywhere near the real world. Speculating on whether the gory,
flesh-obsessed world inside the game or the gory, flesh-obsessed
world outside the game is real is a largely pointless exercise.
Fans of Videodrome will recognize a few complementary themes
at play. Whereas Videodrome seemed to argue for the abandonment
of reality in favor of the "New Flesh" of TV's fantasy
world, eXistenZ appears to argue the opposite. Computers
and their virtual reality environs are dragging mankind further
and further away from the real world, allowing problems like environmental
pollution, genetic tampering and corporate greed to slip past
us, unnoticed.
Of course, that's just the highbrow interpretation of Cronenberg's
work. Those looking for your basic psychosexual gore film will
have plenty to wallow in here. For Cronenberg, no mere Sony Playstation
will suffice as a prop. The "game pods" used to play
eXistenZ must be disgusting, fleshy creations "grown"
from mutated amphibian DNA. Players jack into the games by plugging
them, umbilical cord-like, into their spines. There's nothing
David Cronenberg likes more than a good orifice, and these spine
sockets give him plenty of unsettling insertion scenes to ogle.
If this sounds like a fun way to spend a Friday evening, check
it out--just don't get the popcorn.