When it comes to body horror, there really is none more unique and visually disturbing than the work of David Cronenberg. Not only for the grue of it all but because of how the body manipulation plays with our psychological understanding of ourselves. And after the box office smash success of Scanners (1981), Cronenberg would create what is arguably his most influential and memorable work in Videodrome (1983) – a movie so provocative in its assertion that technology is taking over our lives that it very nearly predicted the techno-human status of 2023 (sans cyborg-tumors).
Fresh off his most popular film to date and turning down the opportunity to direct Return of the Jedi, Cronenberg returned to an idea that had been worming around in his brain since he was a young boy in Canada. In the late night hours, little Davey would noodle with the television dial until he could pick up the broadcast TV from Buffalo, New York. He remembered the feeling of possibly picking up a channel a little boy shouldn’t be watching… something dark and twisty that would continue to influence his work until it finally became a feature film.
In the years before its release, this idea manifested into Network of Blood in the early ‘70s. The script treatment dealt with a worker at a tv network stumbling upon a bizarro subscription channel where the wealthy could pay to see the weird, wild, and dangerous. This version would be pared down and delivered in an episode of the Canadian anthology series Peep Show, in a 1977 episode entitled “The Victim.”
The consistently evolving idea was given proper due once Cronenberg had clout from Scanners to bring the ideas for Videodrome up in a pitch meeting. He actually believed the initial script, an incredibly visceral and mind-melting version of what would later become the film, would get his idea flat-out rejected. But producer Claude Héroux merely laughed at the prospect of the film getting a “triple-X” rating and ushered Cronenberg forward with what would ultimately become Videodrome.
James Woods stars as Max Renn, the president of a small television station who becomes obsessed with a mysterious and violent show called “Videodrome.” As he delves deeper into the world of the show, his paramour, Nicki Brand (Debbie Harry), becomes so engrossed in the idea of the show that she runs off to Pittsburgh to audition. He discovers that the program has a dark and sinister purpose via his friend Masha (Lynne Gorman), who points him to Brian O’Blivion (Jack Creley), a media theorist, only to discover that “Videodrome”s effects on the human mind are far more profound than Max ever could have imagined.
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Videodrome is a thought-provoking film that raises important questions about the impact of media and technology on our psyches. Sure, in the ‘80s, it was television rotting our brains, but now we have TikTok, YouTube, and endless streaming services catering to all types of content sure to ignite a tumor in the brain. There have even been articles and studies about TikTok’s destabilizing ability for modern youth, giving them useless aspirations to grow up and become “influencers” instead of scientists, doctors, or engineers. And that, after all, is what Spectacular Optical, the fictionalized conspirators of Videodrome, is all about – getting rid of the easily manipulated riff-raff to create a New World Order.
In exploring the psychological effects of media on the human mind, Videodrome portrays a dystopian world where those who enjoy violence and spectacle are targeted for demise. This central idea raises important questions about not only the power of media and technology, but the potential of those in charge to manipulate it for their own goals and desires, to shape our thoughts, beliefs, and behaviors, and create a new flesh in their own image.
And to help this message really stick in your gut, Cronenberg called upon a master of makeup FX, Rick Baker, and his team to create the practical body melds and cyborgian transformations that dynamically invigorate the message of the film. Michael Lennick was brought on as special video effects advisor to help push the limits of early video technology. Of course, we’ll all have to forgive the film forty years later for its use of Betamax tapes… they were just easier to fit into James Woods’s stomach hole!
Contributing to this unsettling dread is the music of electronic composition pioneer, Howard Shore. The incredible soundtrack only enhances the nightmarish, surreal world that blurs the lines between reality and fiction.
One of the key psychological themes in the film is the concept of reality and perception. The line between what is real and what is not becomes blurred as the main character, Max Renn, becomes increasingly absorbed in the world of “Videodrome.” We also see aspects of addiction and control. This highlights the dangerous potential of media and technology to exert a powerful influence on our lives and our minds.
Mirroring our modern culture, studies were done in 2018 and 2019 that asked, “is Smartphone addiction real?” While, in the post-pandemic world, 2023 studies are no longer asking about addiction but accepting it as fact. Researchers focus their studies on “Social Avoidance and Smartphone Addiction” or “Reassessing the smartphone addiction scale.” Other studies take a more singular approach, looking at the psychological flow-states of Tiktok and Instagram and how short-form video influences addiction behaviors.
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In many ways, the world of Videodrome can be seen as a warning about the dangers of our increasingly interconnected and technologically dependent society. The film raises important questions about the extent to which we are controlled by the media we consume, and how that metastasizes in our thoughts, beliefs, and behaviors. The power of media to shape our perceptions of the world, from individuals’ “Instagram-worthy” homes to unfair edits of video, manipulates our understanding of reality, pointing out a true and endless evolution of how our phones are slowly merging with our own hands.
These themes, so relevant and decisive to society’s overall well-being today, are explored in dystopian, sci-fi horror throughout Videodrome and show us that the battlefield is no longer trenches and bombs, but right here in front of our faces. The medium has evolved, and the message has never been more relevant. Though no one is outright getting brain tumors, it’s safe to say that many have accepted their New Flesh in the coming war on our psyche.
Unfortunately, in ‘83, Videodrome was a both-office failure. Despite excellent critical reviews citing the visual intensity and techno-surrealism, the film only managed a $2.1M box office on a $5.9M budget. It flew by night under the radar of many ‘80s film fans like a pirate television channel that blurred out faster than Cinemax on your ol’ rabbit ear TV.
Luckily, as so many brilliant and relevant films tend to do, Videodrome was revived by the cult fandom and lives on for generations as a classic of science fiction and a defining moment in the career of David Cronenberg. It even garnered a Criterion Release in 2004.
It’s been 40 years since the release of Videodrome onto our collective psyches, and luckily no one has developed the technology to induce tumors via television waves. But rewatching the film today does spark a whole new set of questions about technological dependency and addiction, and how the videos we’re watching are warping our minds and influencing our behaviors.
And while I’m not inclined to believe in a grand centralized conspiracy to destroy the weak-minded via TikTok viral dances… I have to wonder if we don’t all need to leave our phones on the table and take a step outside every once in a while. For our own sanity.
No offense to Brian O’Blivion…but Long Live the Old Flesh. And the old movies.
