OFFICIAL SELECTION – IN COMPETITION
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After a decade devoted to a relative diversification of his work, David Cronenberg, 79, returns to his corpus of sick science fiction with its holed bodies, its monstrous organic mutations, its mental perversities, its prosthetic obsessions and, one does not too rarely emphasizes his terrifying humor. To do this, he dug into his old phantasmagoria chest, from which he extracted a scenario dating from 1999. The case is called The Crimes of the Futurerepublishing – it will be necessary to question this oddity in good time – the title of his second feature film, which told in a minimalist and crazy mode, from the dermatological clinic of Professor Adrian Tripod, the story of rich patients decimated by a mysterious epidemic .
Viggo Mortensen portrays an artist closed in on his pain, giving birth to his tumors
By diving into the brain of said Tripod, the film gradually revealed abysses, in particular the notion of “creative cancer”, by which a colleague of the doctor repeatedly developed tumors and organs whose surgery proceeded to the incessant ablation, engendering, in the long run, in the patient, a deep melancholy. This idea and the character who carries it are transposed as they are in the new Future Crimes, in the person of Saul Tenser (Viggo Mortensen), with the difference that Saul is a performer of great reputation, who works, at the same time as a trade, in the excision of tumors and a particular disposition to maceration allows him to manufacture like hotcakes. He is accompanied in this, both in town and on stage, by an exceptional surgeon in the person of the beautiful and mysterious Caprice (Lea Seydoux).
Around this canvas halfway between body art and the dissection table, various adventures are articulated, within a world, an era and an insituable regime, where sex is no longer too in the shot, where we apply ourselves to mutate the species and where the old and the new interpenetrate in a mixture of high-end technology and rusty pipes. Likewise, horror and the grotesque. An infanticide opens the film. A child devours a plastic trash can. Civil servants work at the Office of the National Register of Bodies, which one would think came out of Mitteleuropa. An eviscerating machine, a sort of sprawling sarcophagus, operates the artists of the body with dexterity. A group of transhumanists are trying to mutate the species, to transform the plastic that poisons it into a consumable commodity.
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