Inseparabili

Known as a director of "weird" films (unfortunadely unusual means bad for many), Cronenberg is actually a serious studious of the human mind, not unlike Ingmar Bergman, and here he does it better than in any other of his films i have seen (Spider, The Fly and Videodrome- the last one about the influence of TV in society and the least introspective of them). Like in the pictures mentioned above, the very strange premise is a excuse to a deep analysis of the human psychology: what is identity? where is the line between love and obsession? how dependent of another person someone can be? where does one ends and the other begins? It can be seen the influence of Bergman, most notably Persona and The Hour of the Wolf, and arguably Hitchcock's Vertigo, and, as the masters, Cronenberg does not provide easy answers, or any answer at all. But no matter how great the director is, the film would not be successful without the talent of Jeremy Irons. An actor capable of very good performances even in bad films, like The Man in the Iron Mask, he delivers here one of the greatest performances of all time, playing two extremely complex characters without being over-the-top or inexpressive in any moment, confusing us of which is Bev and which is Elly when he is supposed to, and making clear who is he playing in the right moment. Dead Ringers is not an ordinary film, so is not for ordinary moviegoers: it is very complex, not commercial at all, can be very hard to look at it in some moments, and don't expect to feel good after watching it. But if that does not drives you away, i strongly recommend.

Cronenberg consistently makes technically well crafted films. His subject matter however and the way he displays his subject matter (ie – his love of gore and perverse creations), often divides opinion of his works.

I think what makes DR a remarkably strong film is that Cronenberg tones down his use of trademark gore. There is a little, but it's used sparingly and non-gratuitously. This shows that Cronenberg can exercise self-control when he wants to.

The overall look of the film is beautiful: Ultra modern and austere. The twins apartment looks like the perfect abode for socially detached souls.

But the most extraordinary aspect of DR is Jeremy Iron's performance as both Mantle Twins. He shades each of the twin brothers amazingly and makes them both terrifying and sympathetic characters. Geneviève Bujold also delivers a faultless performance, looks fantastic as a more mature woman and proves the fact that women over 40 can be very sexy; a fact which Hollywood (very insultingly) continues to ignore.

The film's subject matter is very unsettling and controversial. As a man, I found a lot of scenes difficult to watch. But to be fair, Cronenberg never pushes the film into the cheap and tasteless territories of gratuitousness and exploitation.

Overall, DR is a very heavy experience. As one reviewer noted: ‘Do not watch if you are feeling depressed.' I agree totally with this point. But it is a film which is guaranteed to remain in the mind a long, long time afterwards. Ultimately, I like films which I can remember in detail years after I've seen them.

7/10

A very fine film that challenges and rewards just about equally and somehow has a downbeat ending that manages to be uplifting. I suppose we have been through a lot by the end and although there is an horrific sadness there is an awful inevitability and we like the twin brothers can finally see no other way out. Bujold plays a starlet who comes between two identical twins (Irons in his two best screen performances!) and whilst the tale begins playfully enough we are given enough signals to suggest all will not be well, although we like all three leads do hope so. We see ourselves in the three and if at first we are confounded to discover we are confused by who is who, just when we have got the two under some control, like Bujold indeed, it all goes wrong and the brothers switch personalities before our very eyes. This is all disturbing enough without the gynaecological instruments of torture and the playing with pain and pleasure leading us to some darkened room.

David Cronenberg is a director of great unique vision, and he ranks highly on my list of favorites, not because every film he does is great per se, but because there is a certain level of consistency and quality that infects each bizarre celluloid mutation he comes up with. David Lynch and Stanley Kubrick have done a few good films, but their track records are generally inconsistent--Cronenberg, while grossly underrated, outshines them all. And "Dead Ringers"--probably his most widely-praised film in the mainstream, next to "The Fly"--is no exception. The film is quite puzzling on first inspection, and I did have a hard time settling into the mentality that would let me enjoy it, but once I did, I was thoroughly impressed--whether playing the smarmy Elliott or the sensitive Beverly Mantle, Jeremy Irons gives a wonderfully nuanced performance as identical twin gynecologists (the subtleties of difference in personality command multiple viewings to register). Not only is the film's central theme both compelling and disturbing (one personality split between two people), but the descent into (prescription) drug addiction and botched gynecological procedures (with Cronenberg's trademark insect-like surgical instruments) will make your skin crawl. It's a bleak, depressing, and tragic tale, but it shows brotherly relations with an intimacy few films ever approach. Anchored by Irons' spectacular dual performance, "Dead Ringers" is a film that shows a lot of maturity on Cronenberg's part, and though it might be hard to call it 'entertaining,' it does contain harsh imagery with an emotional pulse that will not be easily forgotten.

7/10

Identical twin brothers Beverly and Elly Mantle are successful gynaecologists in Toronto. Their relationship is intense and very close - perhaps too close. The Mantles experiment with sex, drugs and personal identity, to the detriment of their practice, and ultimately of their psychological health.

This is a David Cronenberg film, so we are in the familiar realm of horror, mind games and perverted science. The director/producer/writer appears in the credits above the title and even ahead of his stars, Irons and Bujold. Essentially, the 'dead ringers' of the title are the brothers, who regard their mental and emotional oneness as being something more. They see themselves as siamese twins, bound by their flesh, and fated to share every experience, even unto death.

Irons does wonders to play two complex characters in one movie. A new technique called 'motion control' allows the actor to appear as two people in the same frame, but there is also plenty of the old 'body double' method, filming over a shoulder, then reversing the angle.

As teenage boys, the Mantle twins are clearly very bright, and display a precocious interest in surgery and women's reproductive apparatus. They are also creepy geeks. By the late 1980's they are handsome forty-somethings, and hailed as brilliant gynaecologists by everyone in the medical profession.

The screen actress Claire Niveau becomes Elliot's patient, and the brothers are soon sharing her. They frequently swap places without her knowledge. She has a unique uterus, and as Beverly (or is it Elliot?) explores this feature with his fingers, it is difficult to tell whether he is examining her or masturbating her. Before long, both brothers are doing both to Claire.

Elliot is a few minutes older than Beverly, microscopically taller and a nuance darker in colouring, but by nature he and 'baby brother' are utterly different. While Beverly is shy and diffident, Elliot is a callous, manipulative smoothie. When Claire, still unaware that she is sleeping with two men, expresses an interest in mild masochism, Beverly recoils but Elly enthusiastically obliges. He uses surgical tubes and clamps to tie Claire down for sex, and as he releases her after orgasm, we sense that for him the experience has been 'surgical' - almost a dispassionate experiment.

If Beverly is Jeckyll and Elliot is Hyde, we are always conscious that both personalities inhabit one awareness. "You haven't had any experience until I've had it too," Elliot tells Beverly, and the twins certainly seem to share everything, treating each other's patients (without telling the patients, of course) and working in tandem on research papers. The twins have a twin obsession in common - work and sex. Beverly sums it up with, "We do women - that's our speciality."

Identity is at the core of this film, and the dualities and ambiguities of personality recur with brain-teasing frequency. The twins are interested in female genitalia, both professionally and recreationally. Claire attracts them because of her dualities - she is a big personality who adopts other personas for her work: a strong woman who is turned on by being submissive: a gynaecological 'star' who happens to be infertile: and the French Canadian 'twin' to the English Canadian brothers. Elliot sleeps with two call-girls who are twin sisters, and identifies them by getting each to call him either 'Bev' or 'Elly'. The film has layer upon layer of these dualities. Genevieve Bujold is a French Canadian actress playing a French Canadian actress. We see her being made up for a movie, but when we see her left side, the make-up is of cuts and bruises. The Mantles prescribe drugs to each other, and each to himself, criss-crossing the doctor/patient demarcation lines. They take pills to cure their addiction to pills. Cary is having a relationship with Elliot, but when she gets both brothers at once, she is deeply aroused. The film, like the brothers, oscillates between oneness and separation. "I want to see you two together," says Claire, confused by their duality. So do we.