The Battle of the Science Fiction Nepo Babies

Ladies and gentlemen, as we speak, the battle of the science fiction nepo babies is being fought. There is no denying, these two have mighty heritage. In the red corner, we have Brandon Cronenberg, son of David. An intense looking fellow who looks like the type you'd meet in an internet chat room in the '90s virulently defending the artistic merits of Daisuke Yamanouchi's Red Room. Or perhaps you'd come across him fighting for his life in a Saw trap. Whatever the case, his hard drive is indisputably dirty. Some things are a given. This dirtbag has 3 features under his belt: Antiviral, Possessor and this year's Infinity Pool. In the blue corner, we have Luke Scott, son of Ridley. A more respectable looking chap who would take you out to lunch and discuss the current state of British politics. Noticeably, just the one feature in Morgan, despite being 11 years his opponents senior.

There have been some who have been absolutely rolling down the red carpet and raving about Brandon Cronenberg since Possessor. An "absolute mind trip" they say. The "coolest thing to come out that year". Although not a commonly shared opinion, I believe it is a step down from his debut Antiviral. A much colder and unique commentary on society today. Utterly repugnant and near impenetrable in its slow pacing but for those keeping an ear out, it's a shocking investigation in to future fandom. His father's recent effort Crimes of the Future focused on the artists, whereas Brandon's film addresses the audience, making them near companion pieces.

People have always tried to collect and hold on to any item they can find that their celebrity hero has touched. Spread some of the magic. Naturally, in true Cronenberg family fashion, Brandon has to take that touch element one step further in to matters of disease. He achieves something quite unique with the cinematography adopting a grey and white colour palette. You combine this with its ridiculously pale looking front man Caleb Landry Jones, the king of strung out and you have a film which genuinely looks sick itself. Take it to the doctor! Both aesthetically and thematically displeasing to the eye in a way that's enough to put off the average decent citizen but attract a minor cult following from the weirdos.

On his next project Possessor, he substitutes genuine mystery for a concept that sounds good on paper using words like "brain implant technology" and "elite corporate assassin" to draw you in but upon closer inspection its emptiness comes apparent. Pseudo nonsense is used to hide the fact there's very little of interest here. A far cry from something like Videodrome which had plenty to say about government mind control experiments and the way in which we perceive information presented to us by a screen. The on brand sexual detour coming when Davey compares us all to vaginas, ready to have videotapes slipped in to us.

Whatever Possessor is trying to communicate about technological fears comes off as a lite version at best. I want to say he's too distracted by the construction of memorable graphic images and getting lost in the thrill of the picture. Since the visuals barely deliver, it's hard to back this side and defend it as a purely optical treat. One could align it with his Dad's equally overrated Eastern Promises. Agreed, the writing on that is to a much higher standard but once again were we fall apart is in the cheap looking production. No Cronenberg should ever work with the BBC. They have a plethora of rules with regards to the types of cameras used and it destroys any artists opportunity for creativity. When you've got a man so celebrated for his unique mise en scene and cinematography, seeing that blemished by the BBC's preferred cameras which have a tendency to blur backgrounds is extremely frustrating to say the last. In my head, what they really stand for is, 'Bad Bad Cameras'. They need to get their act together or butt out of movies.

Brandon's crime on Possessor is to go to his signature move at every possible moment of using cheap neon lighting and filters. What was once a stylish aesthetic tool has far too often been used to divert audiences away from low production values. Looking closely at any sets on Possessor, frequently they appear like sets from a television show working on a limited budget. Once you throw in the neon lights, it only adds to the artificiality of the film. It's a sad day when a Cronenberg's style and substance both appear to be lacking. We can forgive one, but both? Consider me dejected. Luckily, there's an adequate amount of gore and a shady Sean Bean to warrant a pass.

Now with his very latest effort Infinity Pool, we have moved past a young man with potential and in to genuinely great filmmaker. Not the classic some have claimed but a fantastic piece nonetheless. Most impressive is that this comes during a break from working on a miniseries of JG Ballard's SuperCannes. We don't have access to information on why production has halted there. Likely, Covid is the guilty party. Although in the meantime, it appears Brandon has put his very own Cronenbergian spin on the SuperCannes spiritual predecessor Cocaine Nights Proper exploitation behaviour of working fast and overcoming production challenges in a move sure to always be championed by myself. Nothing but salutes from this disreputable corner of the world.

Cocaine Nights is a book which many consider to be a reasonably solid piece but firmly in the late effort categorisation. Such labelling doesn't do the text justice, giving the impression of inferiority. It is not often I read a book twice but this is a rare example. In the hands of directors like Fincher or Hitchcock, this could be an absolute masterpiece one day. It starts out life as a routine noir detective story involving a man investigating his brother's possible involvement in murder by a Spanish resort, soon turning in to an observation of paradise and the horrors the community will do to keep it.

A very dark and realistic portrayal of the morality sacrificed in preservation. Only thing people fear more than the deterioration of decent values is the deterioration of their allegedly perfect system. Bobby Crawford with his keen interest in setting up film clubs across Estrella de Mar could be the patron saint of sleaze. He's a man who says hello by nearly choking you to death. He believes that minor criminal activity and mischief is what really drives a community. And what's worse is he might be right. For this is the fuel that ignites Funeralopolis. He's the bad guy you just can't hate. Whatever your situation, you are drawn to him in some way or another. The messiah.

Infinity Pool has many similarities carried over from the book such as an individual at an island resort and getting caught in local debauchery. Alexander Skarsgard is over with the Mrs taking in the sun when Mia Goth takes a shine to him. Skarsgard and his bird are invited to join the goth and her guy. Soon enough they're all out together on a day trip drinking. As one can expect, just like the entire world right now, Skarsgard can't take his eyes of that no good goth. Is she flirting back? Yep. Very early on fellow nepo baby Skarsgard is taking a piss when the gothster comes in from behind and wanks him silly. Hold your horses though folks, cause I have some bad news. In the Sundance premiere that shocked movie goers, Skarsgard hangs dong! In a sad state of affairs, the shot in question has miraculously disappeared. Skarsgard's cock has vanished.

What we have is a tragic story where we see less than we're supposed to. Akin to the old days when sleazy projectionists were cutting out the best bits and supposedly keeping them for their damn selves like trophies. Never thought I'd ask this but who's got Skarsgard's cock? Can you put it back. We won't judge or nothing. Just do the right thing. If you don't want to be identified simply mail it to Funeralopolis headquarters and we'll make sure the rest of the population get what they want. There's people concerned. A man is missing his cock. Thankfully, there's talk of reincorporating the missing images on the DVD release. Come through people. In the meantime, my psycho-schradists, you will have to settle for Skarsgard's cummies hitting some rocks on the ground.

After a night of heavy drinking, our foursome accidentally crash in to a drifter with their car going full I Know What You Did Last Summer. Fearing the foreign law, they agree to pull the old hit and run. Barely even making it back to their resort, the law grab hold of them and they are all under arrest. This is where we get our first glimpse of the Cronenbergian spin. In this country, they have developed an alternative legal system. One in which the rich can be exonerated for their crimes if they agree to pay the high price to clone themselves. Instead of being sentenced the death penalty, their clone takes their place. Old lookalike takes the rap for you. Fucked up part is you have to watch yourself die.

An act which awakens something in Skarsgard. Whole time through the ordeal leading up to the capital punishment, he was being a little wimp but seeing himself die somehow sorts himself out. His bird clings on to his shoulder in tears throughout the tragic death of the clone but my man's like naaaaa I've got trouble on my mind. Look closely, is that a smile on his face? He's about to enter his Pusha T phase.

The beauty of this set up is that it removes the fear of confinement and repercussions for one's actions. Truth is young Skarsgard never felt remorse for killing a man whilst driving under the influence, his only concern was the consequences for himself. Having removed the law from the equation, he is no longer a prisoner to his own sleaze and is free to do what he wants. The mask of morality drops and it turns out this guy has a lot of mischief he wants to get up to. His wife may be sat next to him balling her eyes out but this guy's struggling to conceal his smile. Can see it on his face. He's ready to rub his hands together and start screaming, "get me some clones made baby, cause me and the boys have got crimes to commit!".

Not sure how this clone malarkey works as a deterrent against crime because it only encourages the rich to commit more crime. Unless, that's what the government is counting on and profiting from all the repeat business? There is a sort of anti-rich/anti bourgeois sentiment with Infinity Pool that just barely scrapes past the lazy, safe, superficial and un-radicalised position that has become popular today. Credit to Cronenberg, purely on the account of how revolting his imagery can be. Thus, causing this to step outside of full mainstream acceptability. What is far more interesting is to avoid the class politics and take the psychoanalytical route, reading Infinity Pool as a cinematic undertaking in Freud's Civilisation and Discontents.

In that book, he makes reference to the tensions between individual and civilisation. This conflict arises from the individual's desires for instinctive freedom and civilisations demands for conformity. An individual, true to his nature, has primitive instincts (a lustful thirst and desire to murder) but these are seen as harmful to the progression of the community.

Therefore, laws are imposed that inhibit such activities. This causes a great dissatisfaction in the individual who must weigh up all their actions against Gary Numan's The Pleasure Principle. A system in which the pursuit of pleasure is measured up against the pain that may be caused in the process. Not the first time a Cronenberg would turn to the great philosopher Mr Numan for assistance. Daddy Dave made an entire movie called Crash from the song, 'Cars'.

So yes, go on the ride. There's much depravity on the way and it's all scored by the phenomenal noisy dronester Tim Hecker. Doesn't quite match up along with his usual output. So don't expect anything as hauntingly beautiful as (They Call Me) Jimmy but it's still fascinating to hear his sound on a movie, even if it is somewhat toned down and simplified slightly in favour of movie score common cliches. Brandon takes a lean in to the existential too with the unavoidable question of are they killing the main character each time or his clone? Memory implants. It's enough to drive you crazy. Whilst I will say his platitudinous lighting and psychedelic gimmickry is an improvement on previous occasions, I still think his images are often powerful enough that they should not be obscured by such amateur antics. If you can get the aesthetic working like X and Mandy, then all for it, if not pack it in. Happy to say, he mostly gets it right here.

Does it find many paths to go with its concept? Possibly not enough with an abrupt and dissatisfying ending. However, the thrill lies in the journey. Mia Goth being a laudable attraction. Brandon presents a very bizarre fantasy, which I can't say I've wondered up on the shores of before. He's fully aware you find the female star attractive but moves one step further proposing the question of would you have a threesome with her and before you ask, the other party involved is also you. For those lost there, to be clear, that is a threesome consisting of you, Mia Goth and you. A clonesome with Mia Goth. As I said, not something that entered my mind as a possibility prior to this but sure why not.

I can roll with the clonesome like it's Ozon's The Double Lovers, which itself is a homage to DePalma's Sisters and Daddy D's Dead Ringers but made hornier with a touch of eurosleaze and new French extremity. What is it with these Cronenberg boys and clones? Clonenberg. No guesses which is their favourite Star Wars film.

You may have heard Mia Goth's instantly iconic quote, "Jaaaaaaaaaaaaames". Soon as I see the still from the scene, her voice goes through me. Didn't even realise she was British. Her southern drawl on X was so convincing. For Infinity Pool, she's suffering from the Austin Butler syndrome. Except probably worse because she hasn't strictly kept the accent. Instead it's formed an unusual hybrid of annoying London girl and Southern drawl. Essentially, the most extreme parts of the south of the UK and US making her feral girlfriend energy reach an all-time high. Against all scientific reasoning, she remains ever desirable. Go figure.

In all fairness, she's totally mastered the insane girlfriend routine as of late. No doubt she gets great practice being married to colossal lunatic Shia Labeouf. Persona non grata himself. We've admired his transformation over the years from little Even Stevens kid to Stanley Yelnats to teenage L.B. Jeffries to Sam Witwicky to young Indiana Jones to the future Gordon Gecko to American indie king. Assume these two love birds sparked up a romance during shooting Lars Von Trier's Nymphomaniac Part 2. This remains the best of Labeouf's work along with the extremely personal Honey Boy. As for the goth, she's developing her own artistry as both that which all men desire and the ruiner of all men, simultaneously. A superb tightrope she walks with ease. No signs of her stopping just yet. Let her continue. Not that we could stop this foul beast roaming our screens anyway.

If you have any disappointments with the narrative, then all is forgiven due to Brandon creating the experience of having Mia Goth as your girlfriend for 90 minutes. A fantasy that once its finished will have you demanding she just boss you around constantly. Fire guns at me, Mia. Treat me and my clones like dogs, Mia. Fuck it, just straight up bully me, Mia.

Firmly against my wishes, there has not been a film before this to offer such pleasures. Those who share such needs would be wise to check out Infinity Pool. That's it's true victory. There may be limits in its intelligence but there's so much dumb fun to be had that its undoubtedly worth the price of admission. Having considered how much it allows you to be tortured by Mia Goth, I have no idea who could reject that. To quote symbol of sleaze, Bixby Snyder, "I'd buy that for a dollar!".

All in all, a strong piece from this science fiction nepo baby. He even writes his nepo baby status in to the plot. Skarsgard's character is a rich man's kid trying to step out his father's shadow but struggling with writer's block. Don't think I didn't notice that, Brandon! So we get this weird meta commentary on his attempt to form a singular reputation separate to Cronenberg senior. Not too sure what that's about. Yeah, he's laughing at himself but it also reduces the impact of the already flawed class politics because you can't even take that angle seriously as the director clearly doesn't. Mixing Ballard and Dead Ringers doesn't exactly do much to distinguish himself from his father. Yet, I will not take points off for this as continuing the Cronenberg legacy of fucked up madness is to be encouraged. He's allowed to carry on his father's themes. All he really needs to do is find ways to make them relevant in today's society. Not an easy task cause his Dad's work tends to be light years ahead of its time but there's hope for this kid.

What can't be understated is how Infinity Pool serves as a message to that other science fiction nepo baby, talentless hack, Luke Scott. The mark has been set. Ridley's spawn needs to step up his game if he wishes to compete with our golden boy. Never rated that Luke kid. Only gets jobs cause of his old man. When he does, he is granted access to incredible resources that a young starter wouldn't such as elite actors and quality sets from high budget blockbusters and he's still useless. Unfortunately, he very much represents the ugly side of nepotism.

There would not be even the slightest possibility of mistaking Luke for a visual stylist like the old man. Probably a reason why he's only got 1 feature to his name. Mainly just makes short prelude films for his Dad's films. Reeks of take your kid to work day and let him think he's running the place doing the big boy's jobs. But in reality, totally ineffectual. Like watching loanee Wout Weghorst up top for Man United. Whatever keeps him happy. I'm not against him. In fact, I'm rooting for him. Nothing but respect for the Scott family and it be great to see someone carry the flame. No avoiding though, he's got a long way to go and he's not all that young. Brandon's got him up against the ropes with this one. Are we wrong to underestimate Luke's powers? Will there be a response from Ridley's nipper or is he out for the count?

Bonus Points:

-Skarsgard going for a piss and getting wanked off silly

-The cloning pool

-Classic dodgy fears of foreign governments

-Mia Goth in pure psychotic feral girl mode with "Jaaaaaaames"

-The experience of Mia Goth being your girlfriend for 90 minutes. Watch as she shouts at you, fires guns at you, treats you and your clones like dogs and just full on bullys you. Films rarely offer such masochistic pleasures

-Skarsgard's mischievous grin as he watches a clone die. A man with trouble on the mind

-Being a cinematic undertaking of Freud's Civilisation and Discontents

-Brandon making a Cocaine Nights with the Cronenbergian spin whilst his SuperCannes adaptation is delayed

Overall Score: 4/5 5