![]() In fact, Saul is a performance artist, and what is performed upon him, for the delectation of a jaded audience, is surgery. He looks like a monk with a loaded conscience. Every encounter has the air of a furtive conspiracy, and the hero, Saul Tenser (Viggo Mortensen), is often clad in black robes, with his face half masked. Streets are near-vacant under the shroud of night. Hulks of ships are beached like rusty whales. The one big change is that, whereas the old future was set amid clean and hard-edged modern structures, the future that is now foreseen by Cronenberg unfolds in a world of abandonment and rot. Cronenberg cannot stop wondering where on God’s earth (though God, one suspects, has long since fled the scene) our homegrown maladies will take us next. ![]() The latest Cronenberg film is also called “Crimes of the Future.” It is not a remake of its namesake, still less a sequel. The movie was funny, slightly camp, and, despite its limited special effects, gangrenously unpleasant. “There must evolve a novel sexuality,” he told us, “for a new species of man.” We also heard a symphony of noises: clicks, beeps, and susurrations-a fitting soundtrack to Cronenberg’s subject, which was, as ever, the variety of human disorders. Instead, we were treated to a voice-over from a reedy creep employed by, among other institutes, the House of Skin. It was in 1970 that David Cronenberg gave us “Crimes of the Future.” Lasting just over an hour, the film contained no conversation.
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