The Skin Game (1931)

One of the greatest ironies regarding the filmography of Alfred Hitchcock is that thanks to the copyright laws of the United States, so many of Hitchcock's early British films have been widely available for years, often grouped together in budget DVD sets, yet so many of the films are still under-discussed. Of Hitchcock's silent features, of course The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog (1927) is the clear standout, rightfully considered one of Hitchcock's finest and most important films but other silent titles like The Ring (1927), Downhill (1927), The Farmer's Wife (1928), Easy Virtue (1928), Champagne (1928) and The Manxman (1929), while obviously never going to be viewed with the same esteem as the likes of Vertigo (1958) or Psycho (1960), are nevertheless interesting watches as they present of the mediums greatest talents gradually honing his craft. The same could be said of Hitchcock's early sound films, with several going on to prominence like The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934), The 39 Steps (1936) and The Lady Vanishes (1938) while some other, more obscure films get lost in the cracks. One such early Hitchcock talkie to get lost in the shuffle is 1931's The Skin Game, a curious little film that, while different from a lot of the films Hitchcock was doing at the time, would actually show a few signs of things to come from Hitchcock in the future.

Mr. Hornblower, a formally working class, now rich entrepreneur, evicts the Jackman's, an elderly couple of tenant farmers from his land, much to the chagrin of Jack Hillcrist, the head of an aristocratic family whom sold Hornblower the land under the condition that no tenants would be evicted after the land was sold. Brushing off Hillcrist's protests, Hornblower reveals his plans to purchase a large area of land near the Hillcrist's property to build more factories, the prospect of which disgusts the Hillcrist's. After a plan to outbid Hornblower for the land goes array, Mrs. Hillcrist discovers a scandalous secret about the past of Hornblower's daughter-in-law Chloe, a revelation that takes the two feuding families rivalry into disastrous territory.

The Skin Game is the type of film that would lead many to classify it as an “atypical” Hitchcock film which would be unfair for a few reasons. While the film was a bit of a departure from the types of films Hitchcock had made leading up to it, he really hadn't quite become synonymous with the types of suspense thrillers that would eventually become his calling card and again, the film does contain numerous things that Hitchcock would gradually refine in future films. On its own, The Skin Game is a great early example of Hitchcock's approach to melodrama with an engaging family feud at its core. What's most interesting regarding the story is the way Hitchcock's presents both families, and in a brilliant early example of Hitchcock mastery of audience manipulation, the way Hitchcock constantly seems to be shifting sympathies, with both the Hornblower's and the Hillcrist's eventually coming across as just as bad as the other, and with the story eventually heading into almost Shakespearean tragedy territory near its conclusion, its clear that in Hitchcock's view, in this skin game, there are no winners. The film also makes for a fascinating time capsule with the scandal involving Hornblower's daughter-in-law being very much a product of its day, and the idea of a scandal threatening to bring social harm to an upper class family is a theme that Hitchcock would return to again in another film often seen as atypical, Under Capricorn (1949), which also touches upon the idea of class.

Another example of the film showing signs of things to come, the film does feature some early, slightly primitive though nonetheless effective “floating head” optical effects that are reminiscent of some of the more surreal imagery that would feature in Spellbound (1945) and Vertigo. It's also worth noting that the film was based on a play written by English writer John Galsworthy in 1920. As was often the case when it came to writers, Hitchcock and Galsworthy often butted heads over the script, although during the films pre-production stages Hitchcock and Galsworthy got along swimmingly with Hitchcock already being a big fan of Galsworthy's. Hitchcock considered Galsworthy one of the most cultured individuals he'd ever conversed with, the dinners at Galsworthy's house being some of Hitchcock's favorites, Hitchcock describing Galsworthy acting as “a chivalrous feudal lord mandating every new topic of conversation” and ultimately Galsworthy had to give his final approval of everything in the script. Again, due to the strange world that is copyright law, The Skin Game, like the majority of Hitchcock's early output has floated around in the public domain in America resulting in several home video editions either on its own or in a set with other early Hitchcock's so its a very easily attainable film and while its not likely to be considered an “essential” title, The Skin Game is very much worth seeing for any Hitchcock enthusiast. 

New Rose Hotel (1998)

Given the rapid advancements in technology since the 1990's, it's inevitable that the massive technological achievements made in the 90's are bound to be seen as somewhat primitive when looked back upon with modern eyes, yet its nevertheless fascinating seeing how the tech revelations of the 90's shape the current tech climate. Naturally the science fiction genre was in no short supply of inspiration given the ever-evolving realm of technology and several films with concepts that at the time were thought of as futuristic seem terrifyingly prophetic. Considering the prevalence of drones, self-preserving bots, radically advanced virtual reality and immersive RPG's, films like Hardware (1990), Total Recall (1990) and eXistenz (1999), just to name a few, don't seem all that far-fetched. With the ever-increasing popularity of the internet in the 90's, the cyberpunk subgenre was particularly fruitful and one of the most surprising and overlooked films to come out of the wave of high tech features was New Rose Hotel, Abel Ferrara's adaptation of the story by William Gibson, largely considered the forefather of cyberpunk. Ferrara might not seem like the first choise to direct a cyberpunk film, however he was no stranger to science fiction having helmed the underrated Body Snatchers (1993) earlier in the decade and much like that film, New Rose Hotel presents a highly singular approach to genre, resulting in one of Ferrara's most curious yet brilliantly realized works.

Fox (Christopher Walken) and X (Willem Dafoe), two independent contractors specializing in luring big money players away from their current employers in favor of their competitors set their sights on Hiroshi, a brilliant scientist who recently developed a way to synthesize viruses. Currently working for the Maas corporation, Fox and X concoct a plan to coerce Hiroshi to join Hosaka, Maas' main competition, utilizing the charms of the beautiful Sandii (Asia Argento), who's tasked with seducing Hiroshi into falling in love, eventually leaving his wife and job. The seemingly foolproof plan is quickly put to the test however when X develops feelings for Sandii, his jealously potentially complicating matters as well as the danger of Maas uncovering Fox and X's plan to steal their star employee.

Much like The Driller Killer (1979), Ms. 45 (1981), Body Snatchers and The Addiction (1995) before it, New Rose Hotel is yet another case study in Ferrara taking genre based material and reshaping it in a forward thinking manner. What's especially interesting regarding New Rose Hotel is the way Ferrara essentially takes the story's genre trappings and uses them as a backdrop more than anything else. To be sure, the sci-fi tone is ever present, with Ferrara constantly giving off the aura of the story taking place in a futuristic, almost dystopian environment entirely controlled by mega conglomerates and technology tracing the move of every citizen. Despite the original story being written in the 80's and the film in the late 90's, the current state of affairs as it relates to surveillance is a staple of the film, with several scenes showing various characters through video capture, and most fascinatingly and perhaps entirely appropriate, Hiroshi himself is seen exclusively via surveillance camera footage. By and large though, its the nature of the relationship between Fox, X and Sandii that Ferrara is most concerned with, the drama that develops along with X's affections for Sandii giving the film an extra layer of intrigue which becomes more pronounced during the films final third. Presenting everything through flashbacks to previous scenes with slightly altered dialogue and sound and editing that takes the film into an almost Lynchian territory, Ferrara toys around with perceptions of how the story unfolded, ending the film on a hauntingly ambiguous note.

During a 2012 interview, Ferrara spoke at length about New Rose Hotel and was rather candid (as if he ever isn't) about the bad state several key players were in during filming which led to a turbulent production and belligerent crew, some of which Ferrara admitted to firing during the shoot. Hilariously he also states that Argento basically swooped in much like her character in the film and claimed ownership of her role. Argento also shot a short behind the scenes documentary, Abel/Asia (1998) during production. The film also marked the first collaboration between Ferrara and Willem Dafoe who would go on to star in Ferrara's Go Go Tales (2007), 4:44 Last Day on Earth (2011) and Pasolini (2014). The film is also to date the final collaboration between Ferrara and Christopher Walken after memorable turns in King of New York (1990), The Addiction and The Funeral (1996). In the same previously mentioned interview, Ferrara makes some interesting statements regarding technology, specifically the internet saying “The information highway is leading straight to Hell” and described the rather dubious nature of a lot of online journalism as “an echo of a rumor”. Again, the film may have been shot in 1998 and its cyberpunk footing making it very much of its time, it's the sentiments found in those quotes from Ferrara that made Gibson's story and Ferrara's film very much ahead of their time.  

The Gladiator (1986)

Given the oftentimes provocative and confrontational nature of his films and indeed, his personality, Abel Ferrara might not seem like the number one contender for television projects however a look at his filmography reveals many a TV credit, several of which are rather interesting. Ferrara's most high profile TV work came in 1985 when he helmed 2 episodes of Miami Vice during the second season and the feature length pilot episode of the NBC series Crime Story was directed by Ferrara in 1986. Ferrara followed up China Girl (1987) with The Loner (1988), a TV feature that once again centered around cops and Ferrara was also behind a fascinatingly cryptic segment of the HBO anthology film Subway Stories: Tales from the Underground (1997) entitled “Love on the A-Train”. One of the more curious TV projects Ferrara was involved with was the third episode of the first season of the short lived ABC series FBI: The Untold Stories, with Ferrara directing portions of “The Judge Wood Case”, detailing the assassination of Judge John H. Wood Jr., who was shot and killed in 1979 by Charles Harrelson, father of actor Woody Harrelson. Ferrara's best TV work however came in 1986 in the form of The Gladiator, a TV film that, coming in the wake of films like Ms. 45 (1981) and Fear City (1984), feels the most at home among the rest of his output.

Eager to get out on the road after getting his learners permit, Jeff Benton goes for a driving lesson with his older brother Rick. After speeding up at a yellow light, the two find themselves being aggressively followed by a mysterious driver who begins rear-ending Rick's truck, the distraction causing Jeff to miss a red light and the two are stuck by an 18-wheeler, killing Jeff. Stricken with grief and rage after getting out of the hospital, Rick, a mechanic by trade, turns vigilante, vowing to avenge his brothers death and soon takes to the streets in his newly suped up truck, dubbing himself “The Gladiator” after his late brothers soccer team, and quickly gains the attention of the public and police, taking out reckless drivers with his main target being the “Death Car” driver who killed his brother and has been responsible for more fatal hit-and-runs in the area.

Despite the fact that Ferrara has referred to The Gladiator as “pure prostitution” and “strictly for the paycheck”, the film hardly feels like an anonymous work for hire job and a closer inspection makes the film seem like the intended follow-up to the aforementioned Ms. 45 and Fear City. The vengeance angle of the story obviously places the film somewhat in the territory of Ms. 45 (though to be certain both films are very different from each other) but it's Fear City the film feels the closest too, especially as it relates to the main characters of both films. Much like Tom Berrenger's Matt Rossi in Fear City, Ken Wahl's Rick is in constant conflict with himself. Pushed to extremes to right a wrong, the constantly moody Rick eventually enters that morally gray area so many Ferrara characters find themselves in as he begins to question if his vigilante tactics are doing the good he intended, making Rick fit right in with the likes of the titular Bad Lieutenant (1992) and Eddie Israel in Dangerous Game (1993). What's also worth noting is that Ferrara doesn't seem to be making any particular judgments as it relates to vigilante justice, choosing instead to focus solely on Rick's state of mind as the vigilantism increases just as he did with Zoe Lund's Thana in Ms. 45. This sets the film apart from so many other TV movies which often have a “message” behind them. Never once does the film come off as preachy in any way.

An interesting thing regarding the film according to Ferrara that was revealed in Brad Stevens' Abel Ferrara: The Moral Vision, Ferrara took on the project partly so Nicholas St. John could get an advance to write the first draft of King of New York (1990), though St. John had no part in writing The Gladiator. Ferrara also humorously stated that the film was partly a means to get away from winter in New York for a few weeks and smash a lot of cars and it should be said that although the majority of the film is quite somber tonally speaking, the action scenes involving Rick taking out reckless drivers do have a nice energy to them and the scenes of Rick suping up his truck and the truck itself is a gloriously 80's creation as is the final showdown between Rick and the “Death Car” driver in a junkyard. All things considered, The Gladiator has had a pretty remarkable shelf life. Originally airing on ABC on February 3, 1986, the film was eventually broadcast overseas and unlike several Ferrara films, has had several DVD releases. Obviously being a made-for-TV film puts it in a fairly low-key category compared to other Ferrara features but The Gladiator has much to offer and plenty of Ferrara's personal touches making the end product seem much more than an excuse to spend a few weeks in LA.

Wild Side (1995)

Tempting as it may be when discussing the life, work and especially death of Donald Cammell to revel in the mythology that has grown about the enigmatic writer/director throughout the years, there are instances where what has been reported don't exactly accurately represent what really happened. This is especially the case as it relates to Cammell's 1996 suicide, which, as Sam and Rebecca Umland wrote in their brilliant dissection of Cammell A Life on the Wild Side, the details of Cammell's passing have been greatly exaggerated. Nevertheless, even without the sensational reports, from his friendships with the likes of the Rolling Stones and Marlon Brando to his dalliances with many a beautiful woman, Cammell was undoubtedly a fascinating figure. Cammell was also an especially interesting case study as it relates to the film business, with only a total of four feature credits to his name. Many felt Cammell was poised to become a breakout vanguard director following his and Nicolas Roeg's co-directorial debut film Performance (1970), however Cammell found himself hitting many a roadblock when it came to potential projects, despite penning numerous scripts. Following Demon Seed (1977) and White of the Eye (1987), Cammell finally got the chance to direct what would become his final statement, Wild Side, one of the most curious cult titles of the 90's and a film who's rotten post-production treatment would possibly factor into Cammell's eventual suicide.

After a hotel rendezvous with powerful money launderer Bruno Buckingham (Christopher Walken), Alex Lee (Anne Heche), a bank accountant who moonlights as a high-class call girl under the alias of Johanna is surprised at her home by Tony (Stephen Bauer), Bruno's driver. After raping Alex, Tony reveals that he is in fact an undercover FBI agent involved in a sting to finally bring Bruno down and blackmails Alex into helping him by becoming Bruno's mistress and gaining his trust. Reluctant at first although desperate to not have her double life revealed, Alex agrees. Things become complicated rather quickly as soon as Alex meets Virginia (Joan Chen), Bruno's wife and the immediate attraction between the two becomes an affair, with Alex and Virginia hatching a whole new scheme to run away with the money from Bruno's next big scam.

Best remembered for a lesbian sex scene between Heche and Chen, many will perhaps go into Wild Side expecting a typical erotic crime thriller that was oh so prevalent in the 90's. Although the re-edited cut of the film that was first released did turn the film into something of that sort, Cammell's original directors cut is something else entirely, a thoroughly deranged and fascinating work with Cammell's manic personality permeating throughout. From a purely storytelling perspective the film is intriguing enough, with its tale of money laundering, double crosses and passionate love affairs, but where the film really becomes engaging is in its characterizations and performances. Of course the biggest standout being Walken, given the most unhinged performance of his entire career. Walken himself has even stated that Bruno is perhaps the craziest character he's ever played, and his performance runs the gamut from menacing to comically absurd, oftentimes seamlessly transitioning from one to the other in mere seconds making Bruno a truly unpredictable loose cannon. Bauer also gives a strangely compelling performance and his undercover agent doubling as Bruno's right hand man does somewhat recall the idea of taking on more than one personality that goes all the way back to Performance. The relationship that develops between Heche and Chen that gave the film its infamy is far from lurid excuse for lesbian scenes but in fact a rather touching addition that eventually becomes the films strongest plot point, ultimately giving the film a tremendous amount of heart amidst the lunacy. 

There was a bit of hilarity that arose during the auditioning process when word got out that Cammell's wife and writing partner China Kong was testing potential actresses willingness to go through with the lesbian scenes by French kissing them, a tactic that didn't go down well and eventually came to an end. Unfortunately the story of what happened with the film after production was anything but funny. Just as he did with Performance and Demon Seed, Cammell once again found his film torn away from him by producers at Nu Image, the films distribution company, who drastically re-cut the film, putting all the focus on the lesbian angle and bypassing theaters (although a cut was originally going to be prepared for a screening at the Cannes Film Festival) and going straight to HBO much to Cammell's dismay. It wasn't until 2000, four years after Cammell's suicide, did a directors cut appear, cut together using Cammell's notes by China Kong and Cammell's longtime editor Frank Mazzola which was released on DVD by Tartan, although the butchered Nu Image cut has several DVD releases so buyer beware. It may have taken years after its creators death to finally see the light of day in a form closest to what Cammell intended, but its the vision put forth by Cammell in that directors cut that make this particular walk on the wild side worth taking.

Voodoo Passion (1977)

AKA Der Ruf der blonden Göttin (Call of the Blonde Goddess), Le cri d'amour de la déesse blonde (Love Cry of the Blonde Goddess),Las diosas del porno (The Goddesses of Porn), Märät unet (Wet Dreams) and Porno Shock

Its funny, although hardly surprising, given that it seems to be the case with most artists, that despite how divisive the films of Jess Franco are, even among his own fanbase, the man himself was his own harshest critic. It wasn't uncommon for Franco in interviews to be dismissive of his work, expressing displeasure with one aspect or another. Its nevertheless obvious though to anyone who's well versed in Franco's filmography that there were certain films Franco was very fond of given the multitude of times he would return to a theme or even a character name. An obvious film in this camp would be The Awful Dr. Orloff (1962), a film Franco would keep referencing throughout the remainder of his career. Eugenie... the Story of Her Journey into Perversion (1969) is another stand out, being Franco's first adaptation of the Marquis de Sade's Philosophy in the Bedroom, a text who's inspiration would prove to be endlessly fruitful for Franco. Vampyros Lesbos (1971) would also see its idea's expanded upon by Franco in films such as Lorna the Exorcist (1974), Macumba Sexual (1981), Vampire Blues (1999) and Snakewoman (2005). Another key “springboard” title for Franco was Nightmares Come at Night (1970), the first in a series of semi-related films like The Sinister Eyes of Dr. Orloff (1973), Sexy Sisters (1977) and Voodoo Passion, a tropical twist on some of Franco's favorite re-occurring obsessions.

Susan, the wife of an American diplomat, arrives in Haiti to be with her husband Jack. Almost immediately upon arriving, Susan begins to feel strange, namely due to the hypersexuality of Olga, Jack's sister who's behavior around Jack borders on incestuous. Not long after Susan begins suffering from vivid nightmares involving voodoo ceremonies with each dream ending in Susan's murdering of someone. With each nightmare, Susan begins to believe the murders have actually occurred and aided by the constant presence of voodoo dolls and the voodoo practicing servant Inès, gradually begins to lose touch with reality.

It never ceases to amaze just how far Franco could stretch a story he'd previously told multiple times with only the slightest of tweaks. While he'd expanded upon the ideas initially touched upon in Nightmares Come at Night with the aforementioned The Sinister Eyes of Dr. Orloff, what makes his successful take on the familiar themes found in Voodoo Passion so incredible is that he had shot yet another somewhat relatable film the same year with Sexy Sisters. Still, Voodoo Passion is easily capable of standing on its own two feet. What sets the film apart from Franco's other post-Nightmares Come at Night variations on a theme is the Haitian setting and naturally the voodoo lore that comes with it, which is yet another example of Franco's skill at getting the most out of one particular idea in that voodoo as acts as a perfect primer for not only the films supernatural side but for other facets of the story as well. Per usual with this type of story, Franco gradually poses the idea of something far more sinister of a more natural origin is afoot and while some of the twists of the story can be seen as far-fetched, credit must nevertheless be given to Franco for following through as they are rather clever. It should come as no surprise that the films biggest highlights are Susan's voodoo ritual based dreams with Franco's typically hallucinatory eroticism in abundance, giving way to several striking visuals and pulsating tribal drums blaring over the soundtrack.

Voodoo Passion was one of several collaborations between Franco and Swiss producer Erwin C. Dietrich, a fruitful partnership which produced two of Franco's very best films, Doriana Gray (1976) and Love Letters of a Portuguese Nun (1977). Franco and Dietrich's working relationship got off to a bit of a rocky start after Dietrich first saw Barbed Wire Dolls (1976), the first Franco film he backed due to its rough aesthetic and out of focus moments with Dietrich even considering not releasing the film at all. After releasing the film and seeing how profitable it became, Dietrich stopped having second thoughts about Franco for the most part, though several of the films Franco made with Dietrich stick out on account of Franco not operating the camera as he was want to do. Interestingly, despite Dietrich distaste for the freewheeling, handheld camera work that he found so off-putting in Barbed Wire Dolls, he later claimed that Franco was ahead of his time with that style of shooting, even going so far as saying that Franco predicted Lars von Trier's “Dogme 95” movement which insisted on more naturalistic shooting and handheld camerawork. Voodoo Passion might not exactly fit that description but Francophiles that have yet to see the film will find plenty to love as the film is one example out of many that showcases Franco's talent for re-purposing old storylines without the feeling of redundancy.  

Darkness (2009)

AKA T.M.A.

The passing of Juraj Herz in April 2018 was a massive blow to not just fans of eccentric cinema but for world cinema as a whole. Herz was an interesting character from the very beginning of his directorial career. While he could technically be considered part of the Czech New Wave, there were things about his films that set him apart from his Czech counterparts. Early on Herz showed an adeptness for fantastic genre material in the form of The Cremator (1969), a classic horror and black comedy hybrid that highlighted Herz's highly stylized and surreal visual sensibilities. Herz further honed his horror craft with Morgiana (1972) and would later take another somewhat cheeky turn with Ferat Vampire (1982) about a vampyric car that runs on human blood. Like a lot of his fellow Czech directors, Herz also had a particular skill when it came to fairy tales, his take on Beauty and the Beast (1978) standing out as one of the most original takes on the classic tale with its humanoid bird/man hybrid beast. Other films like The Ninth Heart (1979) and The Frog Prince (1991) also showcased Herz's skills at fairy tale storytelling. Herz would make a return to horror one final time later in his career in 2009 with Darkness, a film that, despite its rather anonymously bland title, breathes new life into a classic, tried and true horror film scenario.

Needing some time away from his hard partying ways, Marek, a successful musician, travels back to his childhood home for some rest and relaxation. Almost immediately after arriving however Marek is greeted with hostility from the locals who warn him that the house should have remained vacant. Not long after settling in, Marek begins to feel the presence of others in the house and begins having fragmented flashbacks to his childhood to an incident involving his sister Tereza, who's long been institutionalized. With the otherworldly presences becoming stronger, Marek begins to feel he's losing his mind and seeks the help of a local historian, uncovering the tragic history of his house involving the Nazi's in WWII, all the while Tereza is planning a trip back home.

Both a literal and metaphorical ghost story, Darkness is very much a film about the ghosts of the past rearing their ugly head in the present. The set-up is a classic horror scenario. The old, dark house with a troubled past, unwelcoming locals looking upon the newcomer in town with suspicion and disdain, skeletons in the family closet, all given a fresh spin by Herz. While the film is a literal ghost story in that Marek's house is truly being occupied by specters from beyond, the film's more metaphorical ghosts are represented via Marek's family history, with Tereza becoming an increasingly more important character as the film progresses, the fractured flashbacks giving the impression at times that Marek might possibly be going insane, adding to the already heightened sense of paranoia permeating the film. The ghosts of history also play a major role with the WWII backstory giving the film some pretty heavy emotional weight, the backstories of some of the side characters factoring in as well making things more intriguing. The film differs quite a bit stylistically from Herz's past horrors in favor of a more dreary look and tone which, given the material is understandable and eerily effective, with a sense of mounting dread being sustained for the majority of the film. The well-worn trope of the unfriendly locals feels even slightly more sinister and harsh, and Herz even spices the film up with some jolting bits of gore with have an Italian feel some moments of fierce, nearly X-rated sexuality.

All the WWII elements in the film were added by Herz with screenwriter Martin Nemec calling his original script more “intimate”. The war was a constant reoccurring theme for Herz, himself a Holocaust survivor, most famously fused with horror in The Cremator but also in films such as The Night Overtakes Me (1986) and Habermann (2010). During a behind the scenes look at Darkness, Herz explains his attraction to genre came about from reading fairly tales as a child and his later discovering of Edger Allan Poe, the suspense he felt while reading giving him the urge to create the same type of suspense for people watching his films. Herz would describe himself as a “devout atheist” who, despite loving making films about the supernatural, doesn't believe in it himself. Interesting then that there was an occultist on set who claimed to be in communication with a ghost. Nemec was quick to believe the set was indeed haunted with his laptop disappearing into thin air and the boom operators mic not picking up sound when it would normally pick out sounds from miles away. Darkness certainly sicks out from Herz's other works in the genre due to its modernity but with Herz at the helm all the shortcomings associated with such a term are sidestepped with Herz delivering a fine example of contemporary horror worthy of standing along side his previous genre classics. 

Spider (2002)

One of the most common descriptors used when discussing the work of David Cronenberg is “cold” or “detached” as it relates to his approach to his material and certainly his characters. While this is true to a certain extent as Cronenberg's films do tend to have a very clinical aesthetic, and his handling of characters could be described as psychoanalytical and fairly objective, with Cronenberg making little to no judgments of his characters, his films are hardly emotionless. For instance the divorce at the center of The Brood (1979) is sure to hit close to home for many as are the family dynamics explored in A History of Violence (2005) and even Maps to the Stars (2014) is an oddly touching film once the final scene ends. The Fly (1986) is well regarded for being a tragic love story at heart and the downfall of the twins in Dead Ringers (1988) is incredibly heartbreaking. Crash (1996), often regarded as Cronenberg's coldest, is, much like The Fly, ultimately revealed to be a love story. While his work was always psychologically complex, around the turn of the new millennium Cronenberg's films started to become even more more psychologically focused and it was Spider in 2002, another film that, clinical on the surface, slowly reveals itself to have a strong emotional core, the prime emotion being melancholy, seemed to usher in a new era for Cronenberg.

After being released from a mental institution, Dennis Cleg (Ralph Fiennes), known as “Spider”, is sent to live in a halfway house. Once there, Spider begins exploring the surrounding neighborhood where he grew up and begins to relive memories of his childhood involving his parents (Miranda Richardson and Gabriel Byrne), gradually putting the pieces of the puzzle that led to his current situation back together.

Even by Cronenberg standards, Spider plays some masterful tricks on the brain. Part of its genius lies in the way the film is structured. It begins simple enough, and the many transitions from past to present are easily discernible, yet Cronenberg slyly complicates matters in the most subtle of ways leading to more and more questions as the film progresses. Although the film isn't a first person narrative, it feels as such and therefore presents everything the way Spider sees it, which in itself poses a lot of questions as it relates to the reliability of his narration given his disposition. Very few films are able to get into a character's mindset with the ease of Spider which is what gives the film a powerful emotional edge. The world Spider inhabits in both his mind and physical surroundings is a sad and lonely place, represented by the films production design and washed out, almost sickly green color scheme. Even the slightly more colorful moments of fantasy taking place in a sunny pasture have a tinge of despair to them. The feeling of gloom and despondency is felt right from the opening credits until the end and eventually does begin to weigh heavy and lingers long after the film has ended. Of course the film rests almost entirely on Fiennes' shoulders who, despite never uttering one single word, only gibberish, brilliantly conveys Spider's tangled through process and Richardson's tackling of not one but three roles plays a major part in the films mental trickery.

Although Spider does suffer from a specific psychological disorder, Cronenberg wisely chose not to name it and even went so far as to remove moments in the script that would have called for effects, stating in an interview “I took the special effects sequences out of the script, because I think those effects... are recognizable to an audience as effects, as hallucinations that can’t possibly be real. And the unspoken purpose of the movie was to make the audience be “Spider.” So when he’s hallucinating and thinking something is real, we must also feel that.” Cronenberg also explained that despite the films focus on psychology, his main interest is still the body stating “Oh, there’s only a fleshy element. I am healing the Cartesian rift. I am an embodied person. I really understand the connection between body and mind... When you’re studying the human mind, you can’t take the mind out of it; you have to put it back into the brain. For me, it’s all body.” Spider is also a film that, if it wasn't already apparent from his entire filmography, Cronenberg, along with Fiennes and Richardson, are all in their chosen professions for the right reasons, with the films low budget forcing all three to defer their salaries and its obvious the amount of care that went into Spider, a film with the same amount of heart as brains behind it.