Crimes of the Future
Crimes of the Future adds to the argument that, with a few notable exceptions, David Cronenberg is at his best telling straightforward stories rather than plumbing the depths of the weird.
Though there’s plenty to admire in his tale of a forthcoming time when human evolution has resulted in bodies growing previously unseen organs, placing their surgical removal at the heart of modern performance art, the writer/director’s insistence on being provocative for the sake of provocation blunts his storytelling and mutes his social commentary.
So unorthodox is Crimes of the Future’s premise that — like Cronenberg’s worst efforts — it requires overly expository dialogue to obtain a basic understanding of what the hell is going on. And so, in an early eyebrow-knitting scene at the newly established National Organ Registry, the artistic duo of Saul Tenser (Viggo Mortensen) and Caprice (Léa Seydoux) are enlightened on the current ins and outs regarding what they should and shouldn’t do with whatever he’s growing inside.
The explanations help, but are still a lot to process, especially with other unintentional distractions in the room. As office employee Timlin, Kristen Stewart is going for...something that’s sure to drive her fanbase wild yet all but sure to leave the unconverted confused why she’s acting like a humanoid mouse. (Perhaps her performance is one of the titular offenses?)
Anyway, the department’s purpose may or may not have something to do with a group of plastic-munching humans “led” by Lang Dotrice (Scott Speedman), which also may or may not be tied to Saul’s difficulty eating — activities that involve a most unusual chair featuring bones reminiscent of eXistenZ.
It’s this production design — not the writing or acting — that keeps Crimes of the Future mildly engaging, though Cronenberg’s need to be left-field with minimal narrative foundation proves his undoing. The filmmaker’s go-to societal critiques of technology and human satisfaction may be there, but they’re so obscured by treks into the bizarre that they barely register.
Grade: C-plus. Rated R. Available on Blu-ray on Aug. 9.
(Photo: Neon)
