Antiviral

Showing that the twisted apple doesn’t fall far from the macabre tree, Brandon Cronenberg’s directorial debut is a checklist of father David’s trademark features. Combining a futuristic dystopia, tormented and reticent anti-hero, bodily horror, infection and generous doses of sheer nastiness, Antiviral is a petri-dish panoply of perversion and putrescence. In other words, very, very Cronenberg.

Cronenberg Jr. presents a sledgehammer satire on celebrity culture, charting the spiralling decline of Syd Marsh (Caleb Landry Jones of The Last Exorcism, and X-Men: First Class fame). A tormented young scientist, Syd works for an agency that captures and commercialises viruses caught by celebrities, allowing obsessive fans to share in their every illness. In a quest to pirate a virus of the world’s most desirable celebrity, Syd injects himself with her infection, realising too late that the sickness is lethal. What follows is a blood and bile-fuelled blend of horror, sci-fi and thriller.
Where Antiviral succeeds is in its striking presentation and unnervingly natural and realistic portrayal of stomach-churningly disturbing concepts. Stark settings and monochrome palettes evoke an atmosphere of soulless modernity, while the monotonous interactions between pallid characters notably lack any physical contact apart from medical procedures, suggesting the literal and metaphorical sickness of socialised disconnect. As Jones’ committed performance shows every sweaty, clammy stage of Syd’s rapidly unravelling physicality, Cronenberg takes his father’s love of the medical grotesque and elevates it to Yuck Factor 9.
Alas, Cronenberg doesn’t balance his intriguing ideas around a well-paced plot. The characters are one-dimensional, the story-line perfunctory. Still, there’s enough intrigue, sinewy nastiness and visual flair here to mark Brandon as a filmmaker to watch – if only through your fingers.