A so-called friend fed me mescaline, then stuck me in front of Videodrome.
I don’t know why I ever forgave him.
You need a hug for that…
I needed a hug that lasted about a month and a half!
Good thing I was still an exceptionally resilient kid!
I remember being impressed when watching Cronenberg’s “Eastern Promises”. [wound detail] The shots of people falling from bullet wounds lingered on them for a few seconds; letting the blood start to leak out. It wasn’t a big thing, or gratuitous, but it really made all the violence seem more real and sickening.
That said, I think it only got its adult certificate because the media are more terrified of a flash of Viggo Mortensen nether regions than gun play and mayhem.
Anyway, I must be going, I’ve got an appointment with my therapist.
Watching his movie The Fly at too young an age was… something. Thankfully it wasn’t traumatizing but i can’t see myself rewatching it all these years later.
His Crimes of the Future also did a number on me… but sans any drugs.
IKR?! The mesc was just the hallucingenic fucking cherry on top! Horresco referens!
I’ve found a number Cronenberg’s film unimpressive when first watching them; but, boy do they have a strong, lingering, weird aftertaste. eXistenZ has really stuck with me.
Years ago, a work colleague urged me join him for a showing of Pink Flamingos, that based on his enjoyment of it in a UCLA film ‘club’ showing of it in his long-ago school days. I’d heard of it… but knew nothing about it. We went. Then the weird guy flexing his asshole scene appeared. Me [looking over at him]: What the fuck, man. So, you like this movie?" Him: “Oh, I forgot about that part.” Me: “Yeah, the fuck you forgot. How could you forget about that and some of the other shit?” To this day I razz him about that.
What’s the fake name that Cronenberg gives at the end?
Why forgive your friend? Debbie Harry, perhaps?
Maybe just hit the rewind button a few times and call it a day rather than watching the tv torture porn of the rest of the movie. 0_o
A so-called friend fed me mushrooms, then made me sit in a room without any windows and listen to Nash the Slash’s “Children of the Night”.
No, wait, that happened to someone else, I was the so-called friend.
This anecdote has slipped in to Phillip K Dick territory.
On another thread we were talking about how Moby Dick was an obviously queer novel. Like outrageously so and someone started talking about the below decks dance wearing a whale foreskin and I swear that did not resonate in any way with me and I said, as you do, “thank you brain for the sweet gift of forgetting”. Recollection is an act of creation and our executive function making the decision not to create that in our heads is a wonder.
Like a punch in the face in the first five minutes. It’s the Cronenbergiest of all the Cronenberg films.