So I watched David Cronenberg’s The Shrouds twice in a row because my guy is back to making weird Canadian indie movies instead of Normal Hollywood Features.
Eastern Promises, Dangerous Method, History of Violence, etc… all fine I guess but when The Shrouds opened with a dentist telling the protagonist that grief was rotting his teeth I cheer-screamed out loud. Crimes of the Future was not a fluke? Weird Cronenberg is back, babyyy.
The Shrouds has such intense Cronenberg-y themes about technological intrusions on bodies, exaggerated surveillance, discomfort with non-mediated perception, paranoia and conspiracies, and unreliable information that I would count it as a cyberpunk movie even though it is set in Toronto’s over-50 dating scene and no one wears mirrored sunglasses.
Minor spoiler alert:
In the realm of David Cronenberg’s contributions to sex, The Shrouds’ woman who is sexually aroused by conspiracies is right up there with Dead Ringers’ gynecological instruments for operating on mutant women.