Videodrome
October 26th 2007 01:09
“The television screen is the retina of the mind's eye. Therefore, the television screen is part of the physical structure of the brain. Therefore, whatever appears on the television screen emerges as raw experience for those who watch it. Therefore, television is reality, and reality is less than television.”
Videodrome's working title was Network of Blood, a B-movie title if ever there was one. Writer/director David Cronenberg’s first two features; Shivers (1975) and Rabid (1977) owe much to the exploitation genre, but had a socio-political savvy and philosophical streak coursing through their cinematic veins. Videodrome (1982) is deeply entrenched in the social discourse of modern consumerism; it even pre-dates cyber-space and reality television, pushing the sex and violence envelope into the deadly realm of “snuffTV”, where the ante has been inexorably raised.
Videodrome didn’t fare well upon its initial release, considered too dark and subversive, and its narrative too impenetrable and elliptical for general consumption, the Joe Average who’d prefer his science fiction to have rayguns and force fields, space ships and robot villains. The irony is Videodrome features all these elements, only perverted and twisted into provocative new shapes and outlandish territory.
Max Renn (James Woods in a career-defining performance) runs a television channel – Civic TV, but he’s constantly on the lookout for new and exciting material, stuff that’ll heighten the basic viewing experience, arouse viewers in ways the mediocrity can’t begin to. Basically he’s after the cheap and sleazy suggestive stuff.
When his techie employee Harlan (Peter Dorvsky) decodes a pirate broadcast depicting highly realistic torture and mutilation, known as Videodrome, Max senses something big. In fact he becomes obsessed with it. This hardcore is a whole new ballgame. He gets hold of his supplier Marsha (Lynne Gorman) to found out who’s responsible. Marsha informs Max that Videodrome is real. Meanwhile Max has met and started dating a local celebrity Nicki Brand (Deborah Harry). Nicki, who is openly into S&M, has gone out of her way to audition for Videodrome, much to Max’s concern.
Then it becomes frighteningly apparent to Max that watching Videodrome initiates something far more sinister than being simple viewing addiction; it causes tumours in the brain, which manifest through the body. A media commentator, Professor Brian O’Blivion (Jack Creley), announces to Max via a videotape that the television screen is the retina of the mind’s eye, and Videodrome creates hallucinations that become reality.
Max’s world literally begins to mutate as he struggles to comprehend the enormity of what he has become morbidly embroiled in. Fantasy and reality collide, dream and nightmare merge, and Max becomes a warrior/pawn as he tries both to fight against Videodrome and is used by Videodrome as a form of terrorism.
Videodrome is one of Cronenberg’s masterstrokes, two others being Dead Ringers (1988) and his remake of The Fly (1986). I’m a huge fan of the Canadian director’s body of work; in fact very few of his movies have failed to impress me. His pre-occupation with body horror; the subtle melding of sf ideas and concepts with the plot devices and cinematic viscera of horror movies is unique and utterly compelling. No one else makes movies like David Cronenberg. Like Dario Argento, he is a true auteur.
Much of the symbolism in Videodrome (and again in Cronenberg’s eXistenZ) is sexual. The hand gun that mutates into a handgun, literally, is also an obvious phallic symbol. When a vertical fleshy cavity (read: vagina) opens up in Max’s stomach he has the uncontrollable urge to probe his hand gun inside the orifice. He is intensely aroused, yet in palpable shock.
There’s the fusion of pleasure and pain, sex and death; the gratification and control of one blurring into the fear and submission of the other. There’s a mesmerizing sequence where Nicki beckons to Max through the television screen, her sensual mouth filling the screen, the monitor tube convexing outward to engulf Max’s head as he submits himself. This is fellatio and cunnilingus entwined and inverted as a powerful visual motif
James Woods commands the screen with such intensity; an unctuous charisma that no one else could have achieved but him, but then Cronenberg has always been brilliant in the casting of his films. Debbie Harry’s Nicki slides beside Max exuding a sensuality and curious vulnerability that perfectly off-sets Max Renn’s arrogance and progressive urgency.
And there’s Rick Baker’s outstanding special effects makeup. Current CGI work wouldn’t capture the immediacy that Baker’s prosthetic appliances do, and considering this movie was made in 1982 there is some truly ingenious and graphic stuff that boggles the mind. I still remember quite clearly watching this movie for the first time (and it was the cut version too) back in the mid-80s, and marveling what was being depicted onscreen, just as I was with Rob Bottin’s work on The Thing (1982) and Tom Savini’s work on Day of the Dead (1985).
Videodrome is essential viewing for those with strong stomachs and strong minds. It is a film far more relevant now than it ever was; a dark and disturbing, yet cyber-shining example of how visionary David Cronenberg has always been.
“… Long live The New Flesh!”
Here's the original trailer complete with animation not found in the movie:
And here in all its freakiness is the infamous gun/vagina/stomach scene:
To read my Orble buddy John Doe’s review of Videodrome click here
Videodrome's working title was Network of Blood, a B-movie title if ever there was one. Writer/director David Cronenberg’s first two features; Shivers (1975) and Rabid (1977) owe much to the exploitation genre, but had a socio-political savvy and philosophical streak coursing through their cinematic veins. Videodrome (1982) is deeply entrenched in the social discourse of modern consumerism; it even pre-dates cyber-space and reality television, pushing the sex and violence envelope into the deadly realm of “snuffTV”, where the ante has been inexorably raised.
Videodrome didn’t fare well upon its initial release, considered too dark and subversive, and its narrative too impenetrable and elliptical for general consumption, the Joe Average who’d prefer his science fiction to have rayguns and force fields, space ships and robot villains. The irony is Videodrome features all these elements, only perverted and twisted into provocative new shapes and outlandish territory.
Max Renn (James Woods in a career-defining performance) runs a television channel – Civic TV, but he’s constantly on the lookout for new and exciting material, stuff that’ll heighten the basic viewing experience, arouse viewers in ways the mediocrity can’t begin to. Basically he’s after the cheap and sleazy suggestive stuff.
When his techie employee Harlan (Peter Dorvsky) decodes a pirate broadcast depicting highly realistic torture and mutilation, known as Videodrome, Max senses something big. In fact he becomes obsessed with it. This hardcore is a whole new ballgame. He gets hold of his supplier Marsha (Lynne Gorman) to found out who’s responsible. Marsha informs Max that Videodrome is real. Meanwhile Max has met and started dating a local celebrity Nicki Brand (Deborah Harry). Nicki, who is openly into S&M, has gone out of her way to audition for Videodrome, much to Max’s concern.
Then it becomes frighteningly apparent to Max that watching Videodrome initiates something far more sinister than being simple viewing addiction; it causes tumours in the brain, which manifest through the body. A media commentator, Professor Brian O’Blivion (Jack Creley), announces to Max via a videotape that the television screen is the retina of the mind’s eye, and Videodrome creates hallucinations that become reality.
Max’s world literally begins to mutate as he struggles to comprehend the enormity of what he has become morbidly embroiled in. Fantasy and reality collide, dream and nightmare merge, and Max becomes a warrior/pawn as he tries both to fight against Videodrome and is used by Videodrome as a form of terrorism.
Videodrome is one of Cronenberg’s masterstrokes, two others being Dead Ringers (1988) and his remake of The Fly (1986). I’m a huge fan of the Canadian director’s body of work; in fact very few of his movies have failed to impress me. His pre-occupation with body horror; the subtle melding of sf ideas and concepts with the plot devices and cinematic viscera of horror movies is unique and utterly compelling. No one else makes movies like David Cronenberg. Like Dario Argento, he is a true auteur.
Much of the symbolism in Videodrome (and again in Cronenberg’s eXistenZ) is sexual. The hand gun that mutates into a handgun, literally, is also an obvious phallic symbol. When a vertical fleshy cavity (read: vagina) opens up in Max’s stomach he has the uncontrollable urge to probe his hand gun inside the orifice. He is intensely aroused, yet in palpable shock.
There’s the fusion of pleasure and pain, sex and death; the gratification and control of one blurring into the fear and submission of the other. There’s a mesmerizing sequence where Nicki beckons to Max through the television screen, her sensual mouth filling the screen, the monitor tube convexing outward to engulf Max’s head as he submits himself. This is fellatio and cunnilingus entwined and inverted as a powerful visual motif
James Woods commands the screen with such intensity; an unctuous charisma that no one else could have achieved but him, but then Cronenberg has always been brilliant in the casting of his films. Debbie Harry’s Nicki slides beside Max exuding a sensuality and curious vulnerability that perfectly off-sets Max Renn’s arrogance and progressive urgency.
And there’s Rick Baker’s outstanding special effects makeup. Current CGI work wouldn’t capture the immediacy that Baker’s prosthetic appliances do, and considering this movie was made in 1982 there is some truly ingenious and graphic stuff that boggles the mind. I still remember quite clearly watching this movie for the first time (and it was the cut version too) back in the mid-80s, and marveling what was being depicted onscreen, just as I was with Rob Bottin’s work on The Thing (1982) and Tom Savini’s work on Day of the Dead (1985).
Videodrome is essential viewing for those with strong stomachs and strong minds. It is a film far more relevant now than it ever was; a dark and disturbing, yet cyber-shining example of how visionary David Cronenberg has always been.
“… Long live The New Flesh!”
Here's the original trailer complete with animation not found in the movie:
And here in all its freakiness is the infamous gun/vagina/stomach scene:
To read my Orble buddy John Doe’s review of Videodrome click here
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Comment by JohnDoe
Film & TV on DVD
A fantastic film that needs to be constantly reassessed.
Here's to the new flesh
Comment by James Rickard
unlucky_ fishermen.com
Angling Fish
Check this out...
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile
Yeah, this movie ages like a fine cyber wine.
Comment by Jickle
Comment by Damo
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile
I've written a review of Lynch's Inland Empire.
I've also written reviews for Cronenberg's Shivers and Dead Ringers
Damo, get freaky on it dude!
Comment by Luke
Old Movies
Cane Toad Warrior
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile