It’s been nearly a decade since David Cronenberg made a film, and he is still as provocative as ever, perhaps even more so now that he had given himself a chance to step away from the industry for a short amount of time. After the release of the polarizing Maps to the Stars, it seemed like Cronenberg was focused on other endeavours, with discussions around his retirement emerging on occasion, while never fully being confirmed or denied, even if the director himself expressed slight hesitation in returning to the medium that he so successfully commanded for several decades. His triumphant return came in the form of Crimes of the Future, which sees him leaping back into the world of filmmaking with another masterful work of terrifying provocation. No one could instil an equal amount of fear and desire in the viewer more than Cronenberg, whose work plays to every one of our senses, simultaneously drawing us in and causing us to feel the most visceral, deeply unsettling repulsion imaginable. This is bound to be a divisive work (although you would struggle to find a film that Cronenberg made that is in any way universally loved, or at least doesn’t have a large portion of detractors – even his most celebrated works have fierce critics that show firm despondency towards both the style a substance of his work), but it also serves as a return to form for the director, who has grown more mature in his outlook when it comes to as macabre subjects as those he is interrogating here, but retains that playful sense of curiosity and the desire to provoke beyond the limits of decency, which can be quite a disquieting experience for those not well-versed in his techniques, which are captured in vivid detail throughout this daring film.

There are many reasons to celebrate and appreciate Crimes of the Future, even if there are certain shortcomings that prevent it from achieving true greatness. At its heart, this is a film that sees Cronenberg returning to his roots, his first body horror in over two decades – and it seemed like he had walked away from the genre entirely, with his desire to concoct the most unsettling form of artistic revulsion being replaced by a more diverse set of creative endeavours. However, you cannot keep an artist away from his curiosities for too long, as evidenced by this film, which is one of his most daring to date. This film was clearly written with the intention of hearkening back to his earlier work, with the title being taken from one of his first films (despite the subject matter being entirely different – this story in particular was derived from a project he was writing years before, but which stagnated and seemed to be entirely shelved before it was resurrected here), and while it doesn’t share many similarities with his earlier work in terms of both form and subject matter, outside of a few common conceptual details, it has the director’s unique touch, his skillfulness at crafting bespoke, complex narratives that offer us as much disgust as it does piques our curiosity, which has always been one of his greatest strengths as a storyteller. Focusing on a version of our world in the near future, where our bodies begin to change as a result of some evolutionary development that causes pain to disappear and new organs to grow within us, the film has many bold ideas, each one of them explored in striking detail, placing us in a position of passive observers to a nightmarish landscape in which the very principles of basic humanity are called into question, and gradually erode under the weight of a terrifying vision of the future.

Cronenberg is the rare kind of director whose inspiration does not seem to come directly from cinema. There are certain comparisons that can be made between some of his films and other genre works from the past, but just as much as he looks to his cinematic forefathers for guidance in crafting his stories, he draws inspiration from literature and other forms of art, making his films multilayered leaps into the heart of the darkest and most insidious sides of artistic expression imaginable. The two works that seem to be more prominent in influencing Crimes of the Future are Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, two distinct works that are not only considered masterpieces of science fiction and horror (being intersectional works long before it was popular to blend the two), but share very pertinent insights into the human psyche, and our relationship with not only our surroundings, but also with our own humanity. Crimes of the Future has made bold ideas, but most notable of them all is the forthright desire to question the elements that make us human in the first place, as well as a curiosity to wonder what it would take for these definitions to fall apart and be replaced by something entirely new. It seems like an abstract, far-fetched concept, but Cronenberg’s style is one that inherently links itself to asking these questions in a way that is provocative but also deeply realistic, the scenarios he constructs being drawn not from the most bizarre realms of speculative fiction, but rather the world of existential philosophy and biology, which are two areas in which Kafka and Shelley also developed their ideas, the masterpieces they crafted being effective not for their bold ideas, but their incredible assimilation of them into a plausible scenario. Crimes of the Future is not unsettling because of the gore, but rather the sense of foreboding danger, almost as if the director is warning us of a very possible future – and if we can move past the visceral darkness of the film, we find that this is a fascinating work that is as daring as it is thought-provoking.

Crimes of the Future features a collision between some of Cronenberg’s regular collaborators and a bevvy of newcomers that enter into his world, unsure of what to expect, but emerging having been given some of their most unforgettable roles to date. Viggo Mortensen is always a reliable actor (even in the most mediocre fare), and he is almost always excellent when given an interesting character. However, few directors have been able to harness the raw brilliance of Mortensen as Cronenberg, who has worked with him a number of times, and has always drawn out some of his best work. Crimes of the Future sees one of their more subtle collaboration, with the actor taking on a slightly more subdued role, but not one that is any less impressive in terms of scope or depth. This is where the resounding success of the film lies – it is filled to the brim with eccentric characters, but anchored by an actor who can immerse himself in the oddities of the story without being overwhelmed by them. Léa Seydoux joins him and gives a surprisingly subtle performance, and one that is a lot more complex than the more ambigious characters she normally plays. Seydoux has been working for a while, but has seemingly struggled to find her niche in cinema, and while she constantly flounders between different kinds of characters, she is gradually finding her footing as a performer, proving to have a wealth of talents that are sometimes concealed behind films that don’t know how to use her well. Conversely, the effortlessly talented Kristen Stewart has a small but pivotal role as one of the bureaucratic investigators tasked with carrying out the registration of new organs – and while she herself has given several exceptional performances, Stewart seemed to be in her element under Cronenberg, who understood her inherent weirdness, and managed to filter it into a very compelling character who may only be on screen for a few scenes, but lingers on long after the film has ended, which can be said for nearly every member of this small but compelling ensemble.

However, the true star of Crimes of the Future will always be Cronenberg himself. He constantly extracts great performances from his actors, but he is ultimately the authorial voice behind a lot of what makes the film so intriguing, with his directorial style and distinct approach to the material being the primary reason we watch his films. He can push boundaries like few of his contemporaries, and his willingness to leap into the unknown with seemingly very little hesitation is precisely the reason his name is synonymous with transgressive, artistically-resonant experimental cinema. His signature touch bleeds into every frame of the film, so much that there is never any doubt that what we’re watching is a distinct and deeply compelling psychological horror carefully constructed by a director who has never failed to deliver when he finds the right balance between a strong subject and an interesting method to bring it to the screen. The unique visual palette used to tell the story is already an immediate indicator that this is going to be a remarkable film – the muted colours reflect the bleak two hours that are ahead of us, and the use of practical effects in conjunction with some elegant computer-generated imagery, creates an easily distinguishable look to a film that depends on giving the viewer a memorable experience. Couple this with the unique sonic elements, with the blend of disturbing sound effects and an achingly beautiful score by Howard Shore, being as integral to the development of the story, as well as vital to the feeling of despair and morbid curiosity that we encounter throughout the film.

Cronenberg’s work is nothing if not disruptive, so when it was announced that he would be stepping out of what appeared to be retirement, we were sure that what we were getting was going to be truly unforgettable, or better or worse. There’s a level of detail that exists beneath this film that is difficult to describe, since it manifests not only in the visual side of the story, but also in the conceptual creation. It’s clearly a film with a deeper message, but the extent to what it represents remains to be seen, and requires us to think outside of the box. Crimes of the Future is a fascinating blend of theoretical philosophy and existential biology, questioning not only the natural tendency towards bodily evolution, but the socially-constructed movement towards developing our mindsets to be capable of more than anyone thought possible. It’s an uncomfortable film, with some scenes that may be outright impossible to watch, and it is far from a film appropriate for viewers who are faint of heart. However, what Crimes of the Future lacks in restraint it makes up for in sheer ambition, and it’s difficult to sit through this film and not feel some kind of visceral reaction. Responses are bound to be varied, and it’s a film that is divisive by design – but Cronenberg has a monopoly on these challenging, unforgiving films that exist outside of reality, while still critically discussing issues that are resonant by even the most plausible standards. Disturbing, harrowing and deeply fascinating, there aren’t any films quite as effective as Crimes of the Future today, so we should simply acknowledge how fortunate we are to have directors like Cronenberg, who frequently throw caution to the wind, and provide us with the kind of hauntingly strange cinema that may not be easy, but is somehow extremely necessary to expand our perspective and offer us the space to discuss certain issues more critically and with a wider audience, all of whom are at the mercy of this deranged but captivating return from one of horror’s great masters.