Videodrome
David Cronenberg’s creepy 1983 effort Videodrome is an introspective horror flick with stunning effects and sharp wit. Cronenberg’s movie has cult status and is actually a popular sampling source for industrial music, with samplings from it used in at least 32 individual songs. The most prominently quoted line, “Long live the new flesh,” is used frequently in music and other influences are spread worldwide. The maker of the Japanese horror film Ringu said that he used inspiration from Videodrome to film one of Ringu‘s more frightening scenes. Videodrome has also become a popular name for various video stores specializing in cult horror films.
Videodrome is the film Andy Warhol referred to as the “A Clockwork Orange for the 1980s.” It is a highly surreal movie, packed with several allegorical visions of terror and absurd violence. Cronenberg’s movies all tend to venture into territory that few inhabited at the time and Videodrome was certainly no exception. He has constructed a story with depth and irony, creating a cautionary tale about influences, morals, and the tricks the mind can play. Cronenberg’s screenplay is tagged with witticisms and ironic punch-lines, setting the piece above the standard of typical horror fare.
James Woods stars as Max Renn, the president of a sleazy UHF television station. CIVIC-TV, which Cronenberg modeled after CITY-TV, is notorious for envelop-pushing television that includes soft-core pornography and hardcore violence. Renn is always on the lookout for something more and always wants to up the ante on the content his channel provides. His insatiable thirst leads him to a colleague who has stumbled upon something that should be just the thing for Renn’s ascending appetite for destruction. A sadistic television program called “Videodrome” is shown and Renn falls in love instantly. The show is received through CIVIC-TV’s pirated satellite transmissions and, through the grainy footage, Renn can see people being tortured and killed. His quest to find the author of this material becomes his obsession.
While on a television talk show to discuss the violence and sexuality on his television station, Renn runs in to radio psychotherapist Nicki Brand, played by Blondie’s Debbie Harry. Brand is actually a sadomasochist and revels in the violence that Renn brings to the table. Their relationship wanders the spiral of sex and violence. Renn soon begins to see his life spin more and more out of control as hallucinations and the rantings of media prophet Brian O’Blivion become infused in his brain. Soon, Renn’s obsession with the violence and sexuality of “Videodrome” blur the lines of reality and the truth behind the television transmission is discovered with brutal results.
Videodrome is a key production in the career of David Cronenberg. Its representation of the theme of technology overtaking human morality and reality would be pivotal in the creation of other Cronenberg works and would be the first full embodiment of a theme he only tinkered with in previous films. Before this movie, Cronenberg was more concerned with medical experimentation, primarily, and how the creation of supposed advances could cause the demons to break through from within. His themes always focused on progress, of course, but the manifestation of the thesis began to take significant shape with Videodrome. Cronenberg affirms the idea that horror is about confrontation and his films all contain elements of his characters confronting themselves. The horror is certainly prompted by outside occurrences, but its manifestation is almost always internal. Cronenberg’s horror never comes from a foreign planet or from some sort of external, shadowy threat.
Videodrome is a visceral experience. There are scenes which have stunning visual impact, such as the scene in which Renn’s stomach turns into a sort of fleshy videocassette slot. The imagery and its allegorical implications are absolutely flabbergasting. With a Cronenberg film, the mangling and distorting of the body is almost always a theme worth exploring. The horror internalizes itself, as in Videodrome, and mangles flesh. Cronenberg’s obsession with the elements of pathology and pleasure – more importantly their connection – is what makes Videodrome such an impressive piece.
Videodrome is not for the faint of heart. It is a visual treat, doubtlessly, but the imagery can be considered disturbing by those not familiar with Cronenberg’s work or his mind. Scenes are not particularly gory, but the mutations manifest themselves in particularly disturbing ways. In my opinion, this use of visual style to illustrate how the body functions to process information and to absorb technology is staggering in its implication. It is fitting that I should place this review directly after Poltergeist, as its exploration of the cathode-ray beam from television is deeper and more compelling.
Nobody else could have made this film like David Cronenberg. His direction is risky, bold, and visceral. The performances back his every move, especially that of Debbie Harry. Harry is stunning here and she brings a smouldering sensuality that offsets the sudden violent impulses of Woods’ Renn. Woods is a great character actor and his performance in Videodrome is likely among his best. He inhabits the character and lives through the mutations in his flesh, creating some daunting moments that seem to wallow in their own sense of trouble.
Videodrome is a fascinating film. It is broad in its allegorical sense, with several glimpses into the future philosophical ideologies that lesser films like The Matrix would attempt to discuss. Videodrome works even better in today’s modern era of technology because Cronenberg’s assertions ring truer and truer than ever. Technology has grabbed hold and, for some, it does live within. Cronenberg’s Videodrome is an eerie reminder of this.
