Videodrome (1983)

There are no two ways about: David Cronenberg is an acquired taste. Either you like his bizarre world filled with bodyhorror and little to no logic, or you consider this artsy tripe that has gore and weird visuals just for the sake of having them.

Me? I usually like his stuff, but not all of it. This one, I like, even though it's not an easy film to get into, by any stretch.

James Woods plays Max Renn, a producer for a smalltime cable company that has to draw in viewers by way of programming porn and other assorted diversions, the sleazier the better. This is what a lot of small stations have to do, because they lack a big budget to do anything significant. Max comes across footage called 'Videodrome', that has images of torture and death and which turn out to be completely real. This fascinates him and his girlfriend, who has a rather extreme masochistic fetish, to the point of only being turned on by mutilation. The more Max discovers about Videodrome, the weirder everything becomes until it all is unclear whether he is hallucinating it all, or whether his mind and body are truly affected by this programme.

It's that descent into madness that Cronenberg does so well. The line between reality and hallucination slowly fades to the point where you're constantly asking yourself if the thing you just saw was real or all in Max's head. Nicely done there. That is also thanks to James Woods, who sells this madness so well. He may be a complete arsehat and wacko nowadays, but there's no denying he was a pretty good actor. Debbie Harry is also highly convincing as Nicki Brand, who goes on to star in Videodrome (or does she?)

This is one of those films that you can see over and over and still don't quite get what it is all about. You could argue that this has to do with the increasing influence television (and nowadays social media) has on people, and how it takes over their lives completely and that would be a very valid point. But there's more here, I'm sure of it. But I'm not one to delve too deep, there are undoubtedly people out there that can give you a nice dissertation on the themes in this one. I'll just stick to the film proper, thank you.

Another feat that Cronenberg does well, is the body horror. It's gross and fascinating and sometimes just bloody cool. Max gets a sort of vagina in his stomach that swallows videotapes, his hand turns into a fleshgun and - what I personally think is the coolest - televisions turn into pulsating, fleshy creatures. It's all cool, in a yucky kind of way.

No two ways about it: you either love this or you hate it. I happen to fall in the former category. It's bizarre, enthralling and memorable. So, just like a distinct piece of art, this one has the ability to stick in your brain.

"Long live the new flesh"?

You betcha.