Cathartic Impurity: Infinity Pool Is More Than Mere Shock Value
Picture the most grotesque string of images the human mind can conjure up—a hodgepodge of deviant euphoria that makes your skin crawl, beg and plead for life.
Whatever popped into your head is nothing more than a draft of a David Cronenberg script. I mention his name because the phrase “like father, like son” has come alive with Brandon Cronenberg.
As the saying goes, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and in the case of Infinity Pool, the apple is some wicked-forbidden fruit.
Infinity Pool is Brandon Cronenberg’s coming-out party.
While his previous two films—Antiviral and Possessor—were nothing to scoff at, the level of promotion and star power for this latest experimental venture is miles above. However, this is not an example of style over substance.
The choice of swanky surrealism on Brandon’s part is no Crimes of the Future. He has broken the nepotism baby wall created by his father.
With Infinity Pool, all eyes are on Alexander Skarsgård and Mia Goth. Their riveting chemistry is rooted in the power dynamics of their relationship which, coincidentally enough, is all about power.
Played by Skarsgård, James Foster is a failed author who relies on his wife and father-in-law as a cash cow for his pipe dream. While he isn’t a menace to society, he realizes he wants to be when he meets Gabi, who is played by Goth.
Gabi, a libertine socialite, lives a life full of what James desires most: hedonism.
Throughout the film, there are an array of shots that hone in on Foster’s facial expressions as he’s slowly inducted into Gabi’s cult and state of mind. One long take in particular begins behind a semi-closed door and continuously inches toward James’ face until you are looking directly into his soul.
Infinity Pool’s cinematography has a purpose.
It’s up close and personal; it doesn’t let the viewer breathe, replicating the overwhelming feeling experienced by Foster as he resists urges of degeneracy during his transformation.
That is where Goth’s performance as Gabi steals the show with the curtains included.
She demands your attention whenever she’s in a frame. Her ability to switch from seductively manipulative to uncomfortably psychotic in the blink of an eye makes her a definite force of nature.
It’s genuinely frightening how she can deliver black-hearted dialogue toward James. There’s no doubting Goth’s magnetizing acting alone makes Infinity Pool worth the watch.
Fortunately, the movie has much more than stellar performances and quality shot composition. Especially when Brandon Cronenberg is in full swing.
Don’t believe me? There’s an epilepsy warning that plays before the picture even starts.
The imagery he presents to the audience is not for the faint of heart. Vomit, voyeurism and hyper-violence are just the tips of the body horror iceberg that Infinity Pool has in store.
Detractors say the visuals are only smoke and mirrors with no real substance, but I disagree.
Sure, Brandon Cronenberg doesn’t mind being overly hedonistic while picking apart the lust of elitists, but isn’t that the point? Once James gets his first taste of that lifestyle, he tries to reject it because deep down, he knows that’s who he is.
As in Full Metal Jacket, Gabi does to James what Vietnam does to Joker.
That’s the best way to describe Infinity Pool as a whole. A tough pill to swallow, but a swallowed pill nonetheless.
