Criterion | 1983 | 89 mins. | R
Until recently, I’d never made it all the way through director David Cronenberg’s Videodrome. I’m not exactly sure why, except to say that it just seemed a little too weird for me until now. Truthfully, even after watching it, I’m still not completely sure how I feel about it. Similar to the era the film covers, I remember what watching cutting-edge television was like in the early ’80s, trying to watch cable that at the time was broadcast in scrambled video, trying to find something better to watch like the film’s protagonist. One had the the feeling that something really exciting was just out of reach.
James Woods plays Max Renn, a fast-talking guy who runs a small Toronto-based television station looking for lurid and unique content to boost the ratings. One day, he and his engineer Harlan (Peter Dvorsky), stumble across Videodrome, a brutal pornographic broadcast. Impressed with the raw visuals, Max decides to find out more about the program.
In the course of his research, Max meets Nicki Brand (Deborah Harry), a beautiful psychiatrist who likes sex as much as she likes pain. Before Max beds Nikki, he shows her footage from Videodrome, which proves to be exactly the type of show she has been dreaming about. Nikki decides to go to Pittsburgh, where Videodrome is based, while Max pays a visit to Professor Brian O’Blivion (Jack Creley), a mysterious man who knows everything there is to know about the show.
While there, Max meets Bianca (Sonja Smits), Professor O’Blivion’s daughter and personal assistant, who gives him a videotape containing an important message. After he views it, Max begins hallucinating – first his body develops a giant vagina in which one could insert various objects, including videotapes, then he starts seeing dead people, and finally he enters Videodrome where Nikki has been patiently waiting for him. While trying to figure out what is real and what is not, Max loses his mind.
Videodrome isn’t a particularly easy film to watch, though I suspect David Cronenberg wanted it that way. While it’s easy to call Videodrome a horror film, I believe Cronenberg’s message goes deeper than that. He is showing us the potentially addictive power of television and video—it can influence us sexually and psychologically, and directly influence what we do, who we see and how we interact with the outside world.
To put it in different terms: Videodrome was released in 1983; cable was the new kid in town. Cronenberg predicted a generation in which violence and sex are indistinguishable. The sadistic fetishes on display in Videodrome the show Max watches, seem rather tame when compared to what can be found on the internet today.
The film is presented in a 1.85:1 aspect ratio. Some of the work done to age/degrade the video sources in the movie looks excellent, even recent if one didn’t know the film was made three decades ago. Blacks look deep and consistent and skin tones are replicated accurately. There are moments of image softness that in the third act, but that’s to be expected considering the age of the material, and the drab, gray early 80s’ look is replicated faithfully. Excellent stuff.
The PCM track accurately replicates the pre-stereo world of the era as best as it possibly can. Dialogue sounds strong without bleeding into other channels, and while rear channel activity is sparse, it sounds clear and pretty immersive when called upon. Howard Shore’s score comes through in the channels without hissing, popping or mosquito noise.
Criterion has imported all of the extras from its 2004 SD release.
We get two commentary tracks, one by Cronenberg and cinematographer Mark Irwin, and another with leads James Woods and Deborah Harry, though this second one is mostly Woods´ show.
Also on Disc One is a short film (6 min) called “Camera,” directed by Cronenberg in 2000 and starring Les Carlson from Videodrome. The movie is simple and you might wonder what the point is until the final, beautiful shot which explains it all.
“Forging the New Flesh” is a short documentary (27 min.) recorded in 2004 for Criterion. The documentary discusses the extensive special-effects work involved in Videodrome. Featuring horror effects guru Rick Baker and other top effects artists.
“Effects Men” is an audio interview with FX legend Rick Baker and video effects supervisor Michael Lennick (19 min.)
Bootleg Video: This offers longer versions of some of the videos we see only glimpses of in Videodrome. “Samurai Dreams” is the 5-minute version of a soft-core porn video (w/o sound) and can be listened to with commentary by Cronenberg or commentary by Mark Irwin and Michael Lennick. Videodrome footage shows about seven minutes worth of the torture/snuff we only see a bit off in the movie with non-optional commentary by Irwin and Lennick. Helmet Cam (5 min.) shows some moderately interesting test footage from the film with optional commentary by Lennick.
“Fear on Film” is a 1982 television round-table discussion (26 min.) hosted by Mick Garris with an all-star panel of horror directors including John Landis, John Carpenter (back when he cared), and Cronenberg. Carpenter discusses “The Thing” while Cronenberg discusses Videodrome. This feature is a real treat for horror buffs.
The disc also contains trailers, a short publicity “Making of” featurette and extensive marketing galleries and still photos.
Criterion has also re-produced its packaging from the original release. The keep case is designed to look like a video cassette complete with sticky label on the side.
The 36-page insert booklet (also duplicated from the 2004 SD release though obviously slightly smaller) includes an essay by critic Carrie Rickey, lengthy analysis by critic Tim Lucas, and a shorter essay by cultural critic Gary Indiana.
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