#Hooptober9

💀 NUMBER THIRTY 💀
💀 EIGHT DECADES (2010s) 💀

"Antiviral" (2012)
* dir: Brandon Cronenberg
* Science Fiction / Horror / Putting Flesh On Things That Should Never Have Flesh On Them: A Cronenberg Family Tradition
[ ★★★★ / ★★★★★ ]

"Don't look so worried. You're a commodity."

Caleb Landry Jones is almost supernaturally compelling, man. I honestly couldn't look away from the guy whenever he was on screen here. You always feel like he's right on the verge of some sort of psychotic break, and you can never quite tell if it's going to be directed inward or end up being some sort of more sinister outward burst of pent-up aggression and bottled rage. Even simply looking at the guy is its own little adventure. So pale! So many freckles! Plus you give him a cane to stagger around with while slowly succumbing to a self-inflicted disease...come on, get outta town. I'll take all that you got, please.

"Antiviral" is a fascinating comment on not only the more obvious surface level thematic elements of the plot (fame and celebrity worship), but also corporate monopolization of healthcare, exploitation of the human body, and the horrific lengths we're all capable of going in order to feel like we're actually a part of something bigger than ourselves, no matter how hazardous it ends up being to both our own health and our own soul.

It also falls into one of my all-time personal favorite subgenres: uncomfortably sterile, blindingly white, relatively grounded near-future science fiction that sits about halfway between utopian and dystopian where every single wild idea is treated like the most sane, casual thing in the world. Ideas such as: the widespread commodification of celebrity disease, up to and including infecting yourself with a terminal pathogen and an entire society literally eating meat that was cultivated from the cells of famous people. You know, that old standby of a plot.

If you've seen Brandon Cronenberg's following film (the phenomenal "Possessor"), then you can probably expect the sort of tone and energy going into his debut as well. What seems at first glance to be more than a bit cold and emotionally detached gradually transforms into something much more deceptively humanistic and remarkably urgent, practically wrapping its hands around your throat to pull you in closer and closer until the distance between you and the world on-screen is as imperceptible as it is irrelevant. He also makes truly remarkable use of negative space and unexpected, evocative framing to further unsettle and displace the viewer and the moments of grotesque body horror on display absolutely live up to the family name.

(One absolute fuckin' doozy of an ending as well. My God. I've heard of thirsty, but YEESH. Get a room!)

Brandon. Bubi. Make more movies! You're quite good at it!