You always have to brace yourself for the latest David Cronenberg film, but with Crimes of the Future it’s not the scalpels slicing into flesh or the mutant dancer with sewn-up eyes (and mouth) or even the filicide (oh, boy) you have to brace yourself for. In this instance, the most shocking thing is that it’s so muddled and dreary. It’s a gore-fest, true enough, but it’s a gore-fest that is mostly a snooze-fest. That’s what you need to brace yourself for.
I first became acquainted with Cronenberg when, as a young teenager, I bunked off to see Shivers (1975) and while every film since (The Fly, Crash, Eastern Promises, History of Violence) has proved difficult, as I am squeamish, I always felt I’d left the cinema with something and had been in the presence of a master filmmaker. But here, when it was over, I felt nothing but relief. Thank God that’s done, is all I thought.
Saul has a staccato cough and does so much throat clearing it’s irritating beyond belief
This is set at some unspecified time in the future in a world that’s a peeling, rotting wasteland.
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