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Cronenberg, you’re no Cronenberg.
What a fool.
What an embarrassment.
Juvenile, gratuitous, and dumb-as-a-stump, David Cronenberg’s latest film must be his last.
This dystopic steampunk, sci-fi, body horror snooze fest is an unforgivable sin.
What a fucking mess.
Here is a textbook example of how not to do satire.
There’s some literal bologna about a performance art duo (Viggo Mortensen & Léa Seydoux) b
usy growing extra organs inside Viggo’s messed up insides. The pair perform public (underground) surgeries to extract said organs.
Oh so gross, but no blood.
Whoopie shit.
Whiffs of “Videodrome” collide with traces of “Alien,” and smells of “Brazil,” so the whole thing stinks.
Save your money and your time.
Give up on David Cronenberg, and tell him I sent you.
Give me Jarmusch all day over this shite.
I expect better from Cannes — much better.
Rated R. 107 mins.
ZERO STARS
