...uh, ladies and gentlemen...if you please, let me ask you something. Just how far would you go...in whatever way, shape or form...to embrace your favorite celebrity?? Would you merely follow their media exploits, published in tabloids, or broadcast on the exploitative TMZ?? Would you instead wait hours in line, just for a celebrity's autograph?? (...ahem, with hand raised...been there, done that) Would you pull them aside, upon chance or planned encounter, and snap a quick and spontaneous, albeit annoying (...to them) paparazzi shot?? Would you dare sneak into the celebrity's house, just to sleep in their bed...drink their orange juice, in the 'fridge...use their toilet?? Would you go so far as to spend your life's savings on a complex surgery, which would make your nose look like your favorite celebrity's nose?? Doctors have coined a genuine name for such blatant obsession...call it 'celebrity worship syndrome', or as definition serves, 'an obsessive-addictive disorder in which a person becomes overly involved with the details of a celebrity's personal life'...and admit it or not, just about everyone engages this syndrome, whether it be to the smallest degree (...i.e., 'I really like that person's music; it's a favorite of mine, and I listen to it, whenever I can'), or to a level much more grandiose and disturbing (...i.e., '...uh, like, I've had this plastic surgery, see...to alter my entire body to look like my favorite celebrity, as well as legally having had my name changed to match his/hers, and because of this, I, um...I have had a legal injunction issue against me, forbidding me to come within 100 yards of him/her')...
...and so, this viewer cannot help but ask once again...just how far would you go?? Would you perhaps...as the Beatles once sang, "...feel his (...or her) disease"?? That is the question intriguingly posed, in this...a most deliciously slick, creepy, disturbing, subtly horrific and poignantly futuristic, 'not-too-far-removed-from-reality' look at the phenomenon of cultural celebrity obsession...a most chill-inducing film, brilliantly culled from the talented offspring of a familiar and seasoned cult filmmaker we all know and love...the latter of which himself has proven equally familiar with the theme of 'something invading (...or sometimes merging with) the human form...twisting and distorting...voluntarily, or forcibly'...for your approval, a delectably perverse and surreal little horror ditty, simply entitled "Antiviral"...
...as the film's events unfold, we meet Sid Marsh...young, though quite thin, frail, with a sickly, ghastly pallor...a cold, unemotional, though totally professional associate, working for a polished and exclusive clinic that specializes in catering and administering celebrity diseases, whereby high-paying clients are injected with a disease or ailment, once belonging to, and having been experienced by the client's favorite celebrity...with the client's hopes and elation that they are sharing something exclusive and special with that celebrity...in effect, becoming a part of that celebrity. The diseases are patented, and treated in such a way, that they are not communicable beyond the client, or passed onto another person. However, not satisfied with the limitations afforded him, in this professional endeavor (...as well as being enslaved to his own addictive obsessions), Sid covertly injects himself with some of the celebrity diseases, and for underlining financial gain, smuggles them onto the black market, where the 'security guards' on the diseases are broken, and the diseases are affordably sold to the underground masses. Events take a much more dangerous...and potentially terminal turn, when Sid attempts to smuggle a rare disease, which soon after, kills the superstar celebrity, whom the disease was extracted from; aghast at having found out that he may well expire from the disease, circulating in his body, as well as discovering that the celebrity, whom the disease was taken from, died from extenuating and mysterious circumstances, associate with the disease...not to mention, now becoming the target of collector fanatics, Sid must now work against the clock, in a desperate attempt to find a cure for the progressively deliberating disease...a cure which may well lie in trying to find out why that particular celebrity was initially inflicted...possibly, on purpose...
...ya' know?? Given the slick and polished, albeit perverse and twisted future, which "Antiviral" presents...not to mention, the grotesque sense of science and social degradation, as well as the accent of bodily invasive and bio-mechanical melding of the human form, there may well be one, and only one name that comes to mind to the seasoned viewer, in considering the talent, which conceived of this intriguing, though warped (...and considering today's social state, perhaps not so unrealistically 'warped') facet of the human condition...Cronenberg. And one would assuredly be right, in that assumption...uh, to a degree, that is. Yes, folks...in giving new meaning to the old adage that the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, it is veteran cult film director David Cronenberg's son, Brandon, who herein, in giving inspirational nod to his father's early genre work, still manages to construct a brilliantly refreshing, though unnerving and shudder-inducing slice of horror...unique and original, unto it's own. Presenting a skewed and lucrative future-tense of slick and fashionable, albeit coldly structured & clinical regiment, and then pulling back the polished facade, to reveal a most ghastly, gruesome and sleazy ugliness, director Brandon Cronenberg (...who also wrote the screenplay, here) affords the viewer an unflinching and alarming criticism on celebrity obsession, which is strikingly repulsive, and yet, quite difficult not to look at. The obsessive culture bill of fare, herein, not only included the sharing of disease, but also, the suffering that ensues...as well as the disturbing horrors that lie within nefarious black market dealings...or, pray tell, might you consider eating a steak, comprised of the grown and nurtured cells of your favorite celebrity...hmmm?? Again, repulsive...yet oh-so fascinating...
...although there are some great surprises, as far as the overall casting, in this bizarre outing (...among them, Sarah Gordon, of TV's "Ruby Gloom", "Friends and Heroes" and "Total Drama"...Douglas Smith, of TV's "Big Love"...Nicholas Campbell...Joe Pingue...as well as veteran actor and genre fav Malcolm McDowell), it is Caleb Landry Jones (...Banshee, from 2011's "X-Men: First Class"), who quite literally and ably carries these arcane proceedings. Exuding a wash of uncomfortable and sinister creepiness, right form the get go, Caleb's Syd March is a most disturbing character, not long forgotten. Menacing. Void of emotion. Harboring a seemingly deep hatred for the very people, he purports to help, if only to benefit from them, financially...and in inflicting these people with their desire...as much as they would eventually suffer painfully for attaining that desire...Syd clearly hides an elating twitch, believing that these people are getting what they deserve. His own progressive degradation, as the result of his self-affliction, is simultaneously haunting and mesmerizing; the deliberating virus, taking over his system, appears to knurl and contort Syd's body...almost into something unearthly...and yet, has him still stumbling along...attempting the facade of nothing actually being wrong...
..."Antiviral"...an auspicious, brilliant and unflinchingly first film, for Brandon Cronenberg...ably and adeptly carrying on, in the tradition of his once genre-embracing linage (...I mean, really...when was the last horror-based David Cronenberg film...far too long ago, right?). A unique-unto-itself excursion into horror, alternately creepy and fascinating, from frame one, to the outright twistedly jaw-dropping ending, this one might well stay with you, for a while...deliciously chilling and wretched...like that ugly and invasive fungus, which you just can't get off your skin...but can't help but keenly and embraceably study, with great fascination, as it creeps, writhes and pulsates...
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