“Like father like son” is a stock, even faintly vexing expression subjected to the gilded youth, but in the case of Brandon Cronenberg, it is more than apposite, POSSESSOR is his second feature, a taut, sleek body horror corker that papa David can be proud of.
Tapping into the similar ground of inhabitant/host dyad explored in his father’s EXISETNZ (1999), not least by the presence of Jennifer Jason Leigh here, both star in both films, POSSESSOR uses this hard sci-fi invention of body-possessing as an unethical means of assassination. It is operated by an unspecified organization whose killer of the first order is Tasya Vos (a transmutative Riseborough), and Girder (Leigh) is her superior.
Not everyone is cut out for occupying the body of a total stranger and using that body to shed blood, Tasya is also affected by occupational hazards. In a recent case, whiling possessing the body of a girl named Holly (Graham, pulls off a startling opening gambit with élan), instead of a surgical killing with a gun, Tasya opts for a method involves much bloodletting, and when it’s time to “pull out” after snuffing the target, which indicates Holly commits suicide, perversely, Tasya is unable to pull the trigger.
Her next job, the host is Colin Tate (Abbott), who is going to marry Ava Parse (Middleton), the daughter John Parse (Bean, and Cronenberg archly joshes viewers with the actor’s rep of high-level on-screen demise), the CEO of a massive corporation, and her targets are both Ava and John. Interestingly, inhabiting a male body triggers Tasya’s latent animus to become more dominant during copulation, along with her blood-thirsty leanings, and the difficulty to “pull out”, an internal grudge match between Colin and Tasya takes shape in Cronenberg’s masterfully conceived and reified visual legerdemain: monochromatic repression, blurred and distorted montages, waxy transmogrification, etc.
POSSESSOR, in spite of its impression of foreshortened scale and logic (the perplexity of “pulling out”), even the central tug-of-war between the possessor and the host is left much to be desired (whose clarity is significantly wanting), vaunts Cronenberg Jr.’s genre-savvy instinct and execution, both Abbott and Riseborough go gangbusters in terms of emotional commitment, also the fair amount of gore and eroticism finds its balance without going overboard. Then, there is the surprising, twisted ending, unmasking a sinister undertow that expunges empathy and the last barrier between a human being and a killing machine is chillingly removed.
referential entries: David Cronenberg’s EXISTENZ (1999, 7.0/10), DEAD RINGERS (1988, 7.4/10).
