David Cronenberg has so thoroughly defined the body horror genre with his visceral focus on the degradation of humanity that we had to invent the term “Cronenbergian” to describe his five decades of work. Horror may have evolved over the last half-century, but Canada’s most infamous gorehound has lost none of his potency. From the prescient gaze into the scandal-driven demands of modern entertainment with Videodrome, to the clinical examination of sexuality in a technological era of Crash, his films have only grown more potent with age. The one that stands head and shoulders above the rest, however, hits a lot closer to home than tales of mutating TV screens and exploding heads.
