Few movie directors have examined the body as thoroughly as David Cronenberg. Known best for kinky, operatic, gory films like The Fly, Scanners, and Videodrome, many of his best-known and best-loved movies are about the terror of bodies that rebel against their owners or are taken over by forces unknown. Even if you don't know his movies, you've probably encountered his images. If you've seen a gif of a bald guy's head exploding used as a reaction on some internet forum, that's from the celebrated opening sequence of Scanners. If you've seen a bug-faced Jeff Goldblum vomiting up gelatinous mucous, that's from The Fly. He's a master of memorable gross-outs. Cronenberg's best-known works don't operate on the usual slasher film wavelength. Instead, they ask: Who needs monsters when you have your own flesh and bone?
So it is with Crimes of the Future, his first film in eight years, and a welcome return to form for the director. Like so much of his filmography, Cronenberg's new work is haunting and moody, bloody and provocative, sexy and surreal, if not always forthcoming about what it wants to say.
