director David Cronenberg
Dead Ringers and its predecessor 1986’s The Fly have struck me on rewatching as two of David Cronenberg’s most emotionally evocative films. That is far from the most common epithet thrown his way, and my weekend watch of Dead Ringers quite surprised me.
Both films deal with a love affair between and man and a woman that is brought to ultimate tragedy by the dissolution of the male lead. The devolution of Jeff Goldblum in The Fly is mostly physical and resultingly psychological. For Jeremy Irons in Dead Ringers, it’s a deep psychosis released through a drug-induced mental dissolution, complicated by the fractured selfs that Irons plays in the roles of twins Beverly and Elliot Mantle. The tragedy is doubled.
Back when I first saw this, on cable, probably a year after it came out, I remember wondering if this was at all a true story or where the idea had come from. In the pre-internet, knowledge was not a click away. Interestingly it was adapted from a novel titled Twins by Bari Wood and Jack Geasland which was inspired by the strange deaths of Stewart and Cyril Marcus, with a lot of artistic license employed, especially since it seems very little was known about their deaths.
Geneviève Bujold is herself very evocative, a somewhat tortured soul used to personal pleasures and pain. It’s her openness that initially frees Beverly from the constraints of his fraternal prison, but as she turns him on to drugs, he has no strength to fight against the downrush of addiction or the vast ruptures in his psyche.
Though I’d seen it before, I found the final scene amazingly effective and emotionally gutting, as the twins are dead in a grotesque Pietà, with one eviscerated and the other collapsed upon him.
Cronenberg’s films, if anything, are often cold to the touch. Is it strange that these two from the late 1980’s are so strikingly emotional?