Shroud
David Cronenberg
Released in the UK and US

Myrna (Jennifer Dale) perhaps experienced a more favorable blind date. Her appetizer of edible flowers appear somber. The two tables are surrounded by an oddly shaped shroud of Vitrine covering the setting. After a brief conversation with her date, Karsh (Vincent Cassel), who owns the restaurant, it becomes evident that the environment is intricately linked to the cemetery in architectural, economic, and intellectual aspects.

This cemetery isn’t just a place; it includes gravestones equipped with screens. The deceased are enveloped in a technologically advanced, camera-laden shroud, allowing visitors to witness their loved ones from afar as they undergo life-changing events.

Over his five-decade career, David Cronenberg has perfected the craft of delivering narratives at an unconventional pace. On paper, as well as within the context of “Plesis,” his films might read as satire. Their whimsical nature is apparent, considering the characters’ last names—Karsh is “Relikh,” and Myrna is “Shovlin.” By treating this scenario earnestly, one can discern the potential for conversations with AI-created avatars of the deceased, engaging in various money-driven ventures alongside lists of “grief technology” startups.

Yet, Cronenberg seldom writes pure satire; he crafts narratives that resonate deeply with what we could genuinely experience.

Although Karsh’s date with Myrna is uneventful, he finds solace (and more) with Terry, a digital personification resembling his late wife, Becca. Diane Kruger portrays both the role and voice of the unreliable digital assistant, Honey, created by Terry’s ex-husband, Molly (played by the cunning Guy Pearce).

By night, Becca battles bone cancer, navigating her illness without arms. Are these nocturnal encounters mere reflections or figments of his imagination? Amidst everything, Karsh’s affections remain unwavering for his wife, raising the question: will he become more human? Or will they truly care for him?

Kirsh grapples with conflicting emotions—guilt, rage, and longing—as Becca might be deceiving him with her past professor and first love. Yet, these layers serve as mere facades, obscuring more significant, political conspiracies involving China, Russia, or Budapest. Meanwhile, Terry, who enjoys the unfolding drama, finds herself in the position of encouraging Kirsch’s obsessive behaviors.

Carolyn Zeyfman, Cronenberg’s spouse, passed away in 2017. Shroud emerges as a product of profound emotional sharing, delving into every stage of grief through an exceptional portrayal by Kassel—armed with unresolved, fantastical plot elements twisted by delusional technological visions. Is there a chance that China could exploit our physical forms for surveillance? Or did Morley code this metamorphosis?

Meanwhile, Shroud firmly establishes that sorrow remains the pivotal force driving Cronenberg’s cinematic catalog. It resembles a constructed film where characters articulate complex revelations to one another while maneuvering through intricate conspiracy theories, perpetually shrouded. Nothing significant evolves because, ultimately, we confront… death. It unfolds at a calm, steady pace, relentlessly.

This ranks among the catastrophic productions great directors occasionally create when they have nothing left to prove, and the only narrative to convey.

I would also recommend Simon’s works…

Asphyx
Peter Newbrook

The two Edwardian Tinkers (Robert Stephens and Robert Powell) attempt to invent a method for the Grim Reaper to freeze mid-strokes.

Ring
Nakata Fumi

No one consulted us about our desire to live. This thriller explores mortality through cursed videotapes that ensnare viewers within a week.

Simon Sings is a novelist and science writer. Follow him on X @simonings

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