THE SHROUDS (David Cronenberg, 2024)

I was prodded enough by this film that I’m still chewing it over in my head the next day. I’ve always enjoyed Cronenberg’s style and I’d like to recommend it to everyone, but I would understand if you felt bewildered and less than enthusiastic when the end credits roll. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what to think because while the film asks many interesting questions it provides few answers. While many reviewers have quibbled over the plot (or lack thereof) or have felt like Netflix – the initial sponsor of the project – that it made no sense, I’d suggest that Mr. Cronenberg really leaned into his writing (his avowed profession) in a way that was both personally revealing and rewarding, at least to that cadre of folks who are interested in what he does.

While this is not a fantastical body horror freakout, there are a number of things to enjoy about The Shrouds. I was constantly grinning at the references to his previous works (like the international conspiracy fog of his last film Crimes of the Future or characters displaying huge scars during sex ala Crash or the mediation of real life by technology as in the world of Videodrome) but I was more appreciative of his recent lighter, more self-mocking tone. It seems to nicely balance the heavy personal reflection on the grief of losing his wife in 2017, while allowing us to see the characters in a more empathetic and forgiving light than previously. Guy Pearce’s sweaty and unkempt brother is a perfect example of this, although there are moments when Vincent Cassel’s portrayal of a director-adjacent character seems damned by his addiction to the “male gaze.” On refelection, I’m enough of a fan to enjoy that the ending makes me ask “Is this another white guy redemption story or not?” and not being sure.