An undeniable predecessor to the grotesque craze and gags of current body horror films, The Fly is as profound as it is gross. Early Cronenberg films thrum with warmth like that of blood and flesh, in romances gone cold by the unnatural phenomena of the body. While Cronenberg’s more recent works investigate the coldness and dissociation of sex and the body, some of his earlier works examined romance and humanity and science, and longing through an inexplicable sci-fi iteration of love that has existed but can never be again.
Like The Dead Zone but far more gooey, The Fly is a love story deterred by biological transformation. Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum), an eccentric, ambitious scientist, attempts to teleport himself through a “telepod,” an invention of his own design. When he tries to use it, he fails to notice a fly also in the telepod with him, which begins a miraculous, horrifying transformation of Brundle’s body with the fly’s DNA. A catastrophic, irreversible fate for a body.
In the brilliantly Cronenbergian fashion, Brundle’s understanding of his own body morphs and changes as he struggles to know what is happening to him, and he becomes powerless to stop it. First he confidently boasts his increased strength and stamina, inventing logical explanations for the illogical suddenness in his bodily changes. Then as his human body begins to deteriorate, Brundle realizes his bug-sized, irreversible error as his physicality undergoes a horrifying transformation.
The Fly is iconic for a reason – the visuals are unforgettable, and Jeff Goldblum plays such a brave, fascinating role. Though the logistics of the premise are scientific, the heart of the film is deeply human, romantic, and tragic. The gory effects of the film, like that of other Cronenberg works, serve as a conduit for incisive, emotional commentary on the frailty of the human body, the power of disease, and the suspension in between wherein life and love can be lost.
Cronenberg is most commonly known for his obsession with the body, what it means to feel comfortable in it and what it means to watch it change. It is not merely the absurd visuals and aesthetics which make these investigations so poignant, but the emotional weight of transformation for both Brundle and Ronnie (Geena Davis), whom he has fallen in love with. We are powerless to the forces with which our bodies succumb to, whether it be disease or parenthood or the genetic makeup of a fly. The skin is merely a host for something bigger. Then, Cronenberg asks, what is a self if what we understand of our body cannot ever be secure? Cronenberg’s filmography is prolific, and The Fly is merely the beginning.
The Fly
1986
dir. David Cronenberg
96 min.
Screens Sunday, 6/22, 2:30pm & 7:00pm @ Brattle Theatre
Double feature w/ Dead Ringers (screening at 4:30)
Part of the repertory series: Cronenberg Summer
