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The Fly , 1986. Directed by David Cronenberg. Jeff Goldblum, Geena Davis, John Getz.

Synopsis: Scientist Seth Brundle meets science journalist Veronica Quaife at a party and tells her that he's working on something that will change the world. He is, too. He's found a way to teleport matter. She's skeptical, but after a demonstration, she's sold. Brundle brings her in to document the process, but they find themselves falling for each other, too. Their relationship leads Brundle to solve the problem of flesh, which had been vexing him in unpleasant ways ("Not while we're eating," he tells Veronica). Veronica herself has a past history with her editor, and in the process of disentangling herself from that past, she puts a kernel of jealousy into Brundle. Drunk, he sends himself through the telepod with a fly that has accidentally entered with him. He doesn't seem any worse for wear, except for a feeling of renewal. That doesn't last long, because soon his body starts changing, and he discovers the horrible truth. The telepod has fused his DNA with that of the fly, and now he's transforming into something...else .

A Re-Imagining: David Cronenberg’s remake of The Fly finds the director summarizing the themes and images of his early films before turning to the more esoteric idioms of his subsequent career. In almost every way you could imagine, this is a transitional piece in his filmography. It's arguably the last of his "early" films, in which the changes his characters undergo are expressed in terms of viscera. It's the last of Cronenberg's films to be shot by cinematographer Mark Irwin. Cronenberg has always been a capable director of actors, but this is the first of his films where that element moves into the forefront. Sure, there’s all the gore and weird science that fans of his early films could ever want, but all of that takes a backseat to the melodrama and tragedy of the character arcs. This is possibly a function of quality actors finally becoming available to him. For that matter, the framing of the story is ideal for actors. You have what is essentially a chamber piece, with three significant characters. You could stage it for the theater on one set (and, as I write this, Cronenberg is directing an opera based on the film).

This is, famously, a “re-imagining” of the original 1958 film, though that has been overstated over the years. The seeds of this film’s narrative can be found in the little-seen Curse of the Fly (1965), in which the teleportation gimmick is used to create host of deformities. Here, it’s given the sheen of twenty-odd years of biotechnological advances. But where that film--and the original 1958 film--are specifically about the gimmicks (characters are incidental), Cronenberg flips things around. This could be about any transforming disease. The director himself says it’s about aging, but you could just as easily view it from the perspective of a cancer patient or a man with Lou Gherig’s disease. Fortunately for the audience, Cronenberg isn’t interested in the usual emotional landscape of the disease of the week film. He’s more interested in examining the disease itself. It’s a “disease with a purpose,” he proposes, and it has a transformative effect on the afflicted. The changes themselves are interesting, and because his hero is a scientist, he catalogues the changes like a scientist, fascinated by the novelty of it all. For all of that, the film is yet another cataloging of the director's pet themes of biological and psychic transformation, birth and death in an age of technological wonders and terrors, and sexual behavior as identity. Cronenberg, a true auteur, is nothing if not consistent.

Performances: Jeff Goldblum has always received the lion’s share of the acclaim for his performance as Seth Brundle, our not so mad scientist, which is proper, I suppose. He’s good in a difficult role that requires him to emote through layers of prosthesis. But the spotlight on Goldblum has tended to obscure Geena Davis’s contribution to the film, which is considerable. The movie is ostensibly told from her point of view (Cronenberg is not particularly disciplined about this here, but as a general rule this is true). While we are certainly privy to Brundle’s transformation out of her sight, it’s worth keeping in mind that hers is the only character with an interior life that is laid bare for the audience. We see the point of view of her dreams late in the film. We don’t get that from Brundle. The story is a two-pronged tragedy: there’s the tragedy of Brundle’s disintegration as the fly takes over, and there’s the tragedy of Veronica Quaife, watching her lover deteriorate until she has to euthanize him herself. All love stories are tragic, Cronenberg once said of this film: one lover dies in the end, or they drift out of love.

 

 

 

3/8/08