 |
| Images courtesy of Janus Films |
What is likely to be the final film of Canadian body horror
maestro David Cronenberg, The Shrouds being released in the US
theatrically via The Criterion Collection’s parent company Janus Films is
perhaps the most thoroughly paralyzingly grief-stricken work today in a bow out
that feels like a farewell. Much like Akira
Kurosawa’s own meditation on death and dying with 1993’s Madadayo, it is
a tragicomic venture with a sense of finality as though the director is taking
off and setting aside his thick rimmed artistically inclined glasses. Sure to be difficult in its relentlessness and
futurist fears of the ever-evolving AI digital omniverse we thrive in, it
represents perhaps the genius filmmaker’s most personal expression with lead
actor Vincent Cassel in his third feature with the director as something of a
stand in for Cronenberg himself. Think
of it maybe as David Cronenberg’s All That Jazz which is no less of a
self-deprecating autobiography of a major artist if there ever was one.
Karsh (Vincent Cassel) years after grieving his wife Becca’s
(Diane Kruger) death, an impact his dentist tells him is rotting his teeth, has
developed a fringe kind of mortician business trademarked as ‘GraveTech’ resulting
in a cemetery of pillar-like towers with bright shiny screens. Each user is gifted a special username
Bluetooth login where you can use your phone to control a 3D rendered image of
the dead person’s decomposing corpse.
The gameplan is for Karsh to be buried next to her when he passes though
he maintains close relations with her sister Terry (also played
by Kruger). One morning however, several
tombstones in the cemetery have been destroyed with Terry’s ex-husband Maury
(Guy Pearce) summoned to investigate while his virtual AI assistant Hunny
(voiced by Kruger) pokes and prods at her master’s fragile mind. In the time-honored tradition of Cronenberg,
the journey gradually unravels with each carefully controlled facet of Karsh’s
life and plans for death coming apart at the seams.
Buried in death and decay, broken emotions and an encroaching
sense of madness as it becomes clear the experience of grief has taken over the
heart, mind and soul of our protagonist, The Shrouds for all of its
snarky commentary on AI, Russian hackers and the Bluetooth age represents an
even greater swan dive into morbid oblivions than the director’s NFT short film
The Death of David Cronenberg. From
Howard Shore’s mournful bloodless cues of woe to Crimes of the Future cinematographer
Douglas Koch’s pristine digital camerawork, there’s a sense not so much of dread
or foreboding as there is a submission to the inevitability of death. In stark contrast to, say, Darren Aronofsky’s
The Fountain which suggested rebirth and rejuvenation, The Shrouds with
stark images of an aircraft flying out into the night sky seems to say we float
away and that’s it. Those who are left
behind only start dying a little bit faster with the loss of a loved one.
The great French actor Vincent Cassel who first garnered
international attention with La Haine before working his way up to
Gaspar Noe’s Irreversible and then Black Swan is perfectly at
home in the role of Karsh who is pretty obviously meant to be our storyteller. Much like Viggo Mortensen or Jeremy Irons or
even Peter Weller before him, Cassel perfectly embodies the detached
bloodlessness of Cronenberg’s heroes and is not afraid to show vulnerability or
a sense of resignation. Diane Kruger has
the most heavy lifting in the piece, taking on three roles intrinsically
connected to the one character of Becca, creating an emotional and
psychological identity crisis for the film’s hero. Guy Pearce, fresh off of an Oscar nomination
for The Brutalist is chameleonic here as the awkward scruffy looking computer
nerd Maury and Sandrine Holt gets perhaps her most daring and complex role to
date as a blind wife of a CEO wanting to sponsor the hero’s digital cemetery in
Hungary.
In limited theatrical release under the radar through Janus
Films, the French-Canadian co-production for the uninitiated will be a deep
swan dive and swim through misery and sorrow as Cronenberg’s camera zeroes in
on cancerous spots forming on the bones of rotting corpses, sometimes in
lingering almost loving detail. For
those familiar and knowing full well the ticket to Hell they’re signing up for,
what is very likely to be the last film of one of the world’s greatest film
directors doesn’t have the bombast of his previous works but absolutely will
take you on a dark emotional crescendo that is all too real for anyone who has
suffered the loss of a sibling or friend.
As we venture further into the technological landscape with time and
tide, how will or will it not impact the process of dying for better or
worse? Cronenberg doesn’t have all the
answers except to say there’s a sense of resignation and acceptance of fate
emanating off of the dimly lit silver screen.
--Andrew Kotwicki
