I’m going to be honest: I’m not exactly sure what was going on in this Cronenberg. Videodrome feels like a trippy, satirical fever dream aimed at the moral panic over consumer media, drenched in Cronenberg’s signature body horror and hallucinatory weirdness. But while the film is certainly creative and full of bold imagery, it’s also frustratingly vague in its internal logic: hallucinations blur with reality in ways that seem inconsistent, and the narrative keeps the viewer just far enough away from understanding the actual mechanics of what Videodrome is, or how it works.
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