THE SHROUDS (2024)

As a lifelong David Cronenberg fan (and fellow Canadian/ex-Torontonian), I’m obviously and always up for his intersection of psychological and technological body horror that he aided and abetted and elevated. The beautifying of the grotesque is at the foundation of his work, whether it takes the form of well lit mutations, infection or graphic violence. Though not typically enjoyable, his body of work is united by his meandering and often gross style that forces the viewer to face uncomfortable ideas that sometimes and delightfully contradict one’s visceral reactions. If you know you know, and if you know, you’re drawn to Cronenberg’s films like a fly to a foul odour – see The Fly (1986) for reference. If you don’t know, The Shrouds (2024) is awkward to recommend, as Cronenberg is a leap of faith filmmaker. I equate his filmmaking to oysters. You’re either repulsed or unable to describe or understand why this disgusting, repulsive and salty sensation is wonderfully refreshing and without satiety. And the same goes for The Shouds, Conenberg’s very personal and explicit folding and unfolding of grief for his wife Carolyn, who succumbed to cancer in 2017 after 43 years of marriage. Vincent Cassel – La haine (1995), Black Swan (2010) – is, at least to me, the “Hollywood” version of the filmmaker; illustrating his mental suffering via screen as the successful businessman Karsh, who uses his “Gravetech” technology to stay connected, continuing his witness to the deterioration and decomposition of his beloved’s body via a shroud that transmits images to an app on his phone. His wife Becca (seen via flashbacks and dreams) and her living twin sister Terry are cooly portrayed by Diane Kruger – Inglorious Bastards (2009), Troy (2004) – whose beauty is painfully unmarred by one withering body, and another’s joyless personality. And this trio have a tender and rebellious chemistry. Of course, in true Cronenberg fashion, paranoia begins to distort reality for Karsh and his already off-kilter day-to-day doings spin him further into the abyss. My only issue is that it spins a bit too far, to the edge of being unsatisfying. What I mean is, though I enjoyed watching this macabre mystery, it amounts to a series of misdirections with no trick. It’s certainly an original well-acted mediation on running from and towards one’s grief, and though I don’t expect or even need a perfectly tied bow wrapping it all up for me, I longed for a trace of clarity. I can’t speak with absolute certainty, but it’s possible that like Karsh, who voyeurs his wife’s decay, Cronenberg and his penchant for parallels and dreams are woven in with his pain and process, and we too are powerless, merely observing a narrative decay before our eyes.

WATCH OR NOT: WATCH

Additional musings: Not among my top Cronenberg films, but if you enjoy his work it’s worth the experience and the questions it poses.