Review

TLA Guide:
Cronenberg's remake of the 1958 semi-classic is a terrifying thriller highlighted by both Goldblum's virtuoso performance as the scientist experiencing a metamorphosis and incredible makeup effects. An intense and gory horror film, and not for everyone.

Danger After Dark:
The Fly (1986) could almost be considered science fiction not only with respect to its storyline, but also with respect to the very nature of its existence, as it contradicts two of the most seemingly intractable rules of American (or, more accurately here, North American, since the film is largely Canadian) filmmaking: it is both a remake that is far superior to the original film, and also a Hollywood-funded major summer blockbuster made by an independent filmmaker who not only retained his creativity and artistic credibility, but managed to (appropriately for the film) “fuse” them with the studio system. No wonder we were all knocked out back in 1986 when the film was released – while The Fly might not stand as director David Cronenberg’s best horror film (we refer you to Videodrome or The Brood), it remains his most successful excursion into comparatively mainstream filmmaking, and one of the best horror films of the 80s, a brilliant meeting of the cerebral and the visceral (Cronenberg’s special hybrid).

As with John Carpenter’s reinterpretation of The Thing, the remake differs substantially from the original 1958 Kurt Neumann-directed Vincent Price film: in Cronenberg’s remake, the body of scientist Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum, in one of his best performances) is accidentally genetically fused with a housefly during a teleportation experimentation, resulting in a gradual diseased metamorphosis as the genes of both Brundle and fly fight for control (resulting in, of course, “Brundlefly,” as he’s affectionately termed his new identity). This grotesque transformation is viewed with increasing horror and pathos by Brundle’s journalist lover Veronica (Geena Davis, also excellent), who is forced to watch as the object of her affections becomes a wall-crawling monster with a fondness for dissolving his solid foods with corrosive vomit.

Chris Walas’ make-up effects are astonishing (and undoubtedly contributed to his assignment to direct the ill-advised sequel), but almost twenty years after its release (and without the gasps and groans that accompanied certain cringe-inducing grisly highlights among the film’s original theatrical audiences), Cronenberg’s The Fly is most impressive as an exploration of the nature of individual identity and how this can evolve (a theme most recently explored by the director in A History of Violence) – and, ultimately, as a surprisingly touching love story. Previously issued on DVD in a bare-bones version with an inferior transfer, The Fly has been reissued in a spectacular 2-disc special-edition with an exhaustive documentary, deleted scenes, and everything one could want to know about the film. An essential purchase.