Cronenberg’s Crimes of the Future (2022): The Body Is Reality (Review)

*This review contains minor spoilers*

Crimes of the Future – the 22nd film from the godfather of body horror, David Cronenberg – has been described as a science fiction body horror drama. It tells the story of Saul Tenser (Viggo Mortensen), and his partner, Caprice (Léa Seydoux) – a performance artist couple who take advantage of the rapid development in human evolution to entertain their bored and wealthy fans. 

With the idea of advanced evolution and its effects as the foundation, Cronenberg’s signature body horror is evident throughout the film, but it feels like a relatively bloodless affair as, from Saul’s rapid growth of new organs to performance art pieces featuring people covered in extra ears, technology does most of the dirty work. It’s difficult, however, to understand why anyone would bother living in this future where everything is dirty and decaying; where Saul can’t even eat mush without being thrown around in a contraption designed to help him digest; where pain is but a memory and life has lost all meaning. The ennui of the society created by Cronenberg is so all-encompassing that the purpose of humanity becomes vague, and it’s hard for the viewer to become invested in the story.

Like other Cronenberg films, there are some interesting ideas at work, one of which is that rapid evolution is somehow “insurrectional”, and a cause of concern for the powers that be. There are also some thought-provoking points about the capitalist need for control of society and the population, why it’s possible in post-human societies, and why those in charge find it difficult in a world where pain and disease are no longer a threat. Building on these is the idea that if people are evolving at increasing rates, at what point do they stop being human, and how does a society regulate and legislate against those who are seen as ‘beyond human’ in this strange new world? 

Sadly, the world Cronenberg has built-in Crimes of the Future is so dirty, barren and lacking in meaning that it’s difficult to feel any interest in its continued existence. The creepy cast, women whose only definition is their relationship to the relatively one-dimensional Saul, and general lack of character development mean there’s no one to root for. It’s difficult to say if the behaviour of numerous characters is intentionally overdramatic and uncomfortable, but regardless of whether it is or not, this is still a difficult viewing experience. 

In true Cronenberg fashion, sex and sensuality are central to much of the body horror. Surgery has become the new sex, and while people huddle in dark corners to stab each other, Saul and Caprice offer up panting performance art pieces – Saul “getting off” on being chopped up and the creepy voyeurs taking pleasure in watching him. Unfortunately, this isn’t a thrillingly transgressive aspect as, unlike the sensuality we saw expertly wielded in Crash (1996), and even the romantically charged relationship in The Fly (1986), everything here just feels forced. There’s also the issue of nudity as, even though Crimes of the Future is supposed to be about the vulnerability of the flesh, apparently it’s only the bodies of women and children that are required to be vulnerable. At that point ideas about the fragility of the flesh fall flat, and the resulting sterile, anaemic presentation of sex and the body fails to challenge tired notions of the male gaze.

The spectre of class and privilege continues to haunt this vision of the future, as those well-off enough to enjoy trauma gather in salons to watch each other stab and tear at numb flesh. There is no awareness of the “privilege” that they can choose to enjoy extra organs or not, whereas those with less power are presumably left to rot with the new “designer cancer”. Along with the ideas of regulation, power, and privilege is a compelling take on the fast-growing problem of eco-horror, the idea being that the human body could be evolving to solve a catastrophic, global environmental crisis – something that feels frighteningly prescient given the times we live in. 

Unfortunately, something about Crimes of the Future rings hollow – and that’s speaking as a Cronenberg fan. There’s a clinical coldness to it that isn’t there in the director’s other works, with it lacking the rage of The Brood (1979), the dark dangers of a civilization in peril that were prevalent in Rabid (1977), or the silky perversity of Dead Ringers (1988). There’s none of Crash‘s (1996), erotically charged joy in bodily destruction, despite forced attempts to convey both sexuality and lust in the slicing and dicing of the performance art pieces.

The satire lacks the gritty elegance of Maps to the Stars (2014), and even the role of technology feels unexciting – lacking the urgency and creativity of The Fly (1986). The set pieces are complex, and the relationship between technology and the body is still interesting to contemplate, but it feels like style (and there’s plenty of that), over substance. While it’s often unhelpful to compare previous work when reviewing, it does feel necessary here because Cronenberg’s oeuvre is such a powerhouse that it feels confusing to see such a flat offering in Crimes of the Future.

Megan’s Archive – Crimes of the Future