Videodrome
Many times, the only way to make a ripple in the world of cinema is to start a revolution. You might not get the immediate response you were looking for, but time and the hardcore dedication of certain fanbases can ultimately change the game forever. As it was the case in 1983 when David Cronenbergâs dark, daring, nihilistic masterpiece was released to a mostly repulsed mainstream reception with many critics at the time ripping it to shreds for being a more senseless than usual gorefest. But as the years went on, and the filmâs depressing message became more and more apparent with each passing decade, the brilliance of Cronenbergâs vision was finally recognized as the film entered the pantheon it deserved and even became part of the prestigious Criterion Collection. Its storyline concerning the overstimulation of our times and the need to satisfy ourselves with more and more extreme forms of entertainment, resulting in todayâs world of The Internet and violent video games taking up all the valuable time in peopleâs lives and replacing real world interaction. James Woods gives one of his greatest turns as Max Renn, the sleazy owner and operator of a small independent cable station that pays its rent showing softcore porno movies and ultra violent programming (of which such stations really existed in the early 80s, mostly in Canada). Problem is, for Max itâs not enough. Itâs too soft. Itâs too polite and classy. That is until his satellite picks up a signal from a broadcast called Videodrome, which is a plotless delight consisting of nothing else but hardcore torture and murder. The more signals that are picked up result in more videotapes that Woods has made for himself that he more and more finds himself addicted to watching, even sharing them with his hardcore masochist talk radio host girlfriend played by Deborah Harry (dying her trademark blonde hair red for the role). When the signal is traced back to Pittsburgh of all places, Harry decides to head down claiming she wants to âauditionâ for it and promptly disappears, and then Max goes down as well, finding a link to a famous âmedia prophetâ who bizarrely only appears on television and strategic videotapes given to him by his daughter (Sonja Smits). Turns out that watching Videodrome purposely causes a massive tumor to develop in oneâs head that causes hallucinations, and while the media prophet believes that watching it and getting the tumor will lead to a new reality for mankind and thus a new way of life, the evil corporation involved in its development feel that getting those who would watch such smut hooked and becoming susceptible to certain kinds of suggestion leading to mass mind control would be more beneficial to a society that they feel has gotten soft and weak and serve a purpose in and of itself. Thatâs about all that can be said, barring some plot twists and also at about the halfway point of the movie, all semblance of conventional reality goes out the window as we have James Woodsâ main character pretty much hallucinating nonstop, finding himself being controlled one way and then the other, all while extremely graphic and grisly imagery punctuate one major scene after another. While the film is definitely depressing for those who like to invest in their main character, and the ending is as downbeat as any ever committed to celluloid, the concept of any and all forms of media ultimately taking over a viewerâs mind, body, and soul, from Facebook to YouTube to reality shows to 24 hour cable news, has now sadly come to pass for better or worse as either an evolution or desensitization of the current incarnation of the human race, but thatâs a debate better left up to sociologists. What we have here is a film with imagery and makeup FX by Rick Baker that are so stunning, that many even today have not even been able to begin to scratch under the surface for the deep seated meaning that requires more than one viewing to grasp and cherish as one of the greatest in all of the realm of horror moviesâŚ
10/10