Long Live the New Flesh | Videodrome (1983)
Long ago, there was a time known by man as a staple in American Culture. A time before websites and cellphones. A time where galactic wars were greater than our cold wars. Where the technological empires of today were nothing more than ideas in a garage.
1983.
Unlike its predecessor or its successor’s, 1983 was a turn in American culture. From witnessing Micheal Jackson's Thriller video to experiencing the final episodes of M.A.S.H, most American’s welcomed the new lands of entertainment. They cheered with their great heroes, Luke Skywalker and Micheal Knight, as they saved the day, and indulged in America's party. During this time as well, technology was in its infancy. Computers were just becoming more common in houses, and landlines didn't follow us in our pockets. The early digital world was shaped by our imaginations, and we had power over this realm.
However, in the midst of this era, a voice was heard from the deep North. It didn't come to celebrate but to warn us—warn us about the impending apocalypse of human consciousness and how the digital world would betray us. It came as a psychedelic, techno-paranoid eroticism, and yelled to us:
“BEWARE”
"BEWARE THE VIDEODROME!”
Videodrome, directed by David Cronenberg, tells the story of Max Renn (James Woods), a sleazy cable TV programmer who stumbles upon a mysterious broadcast that triggers hallucinations and blurs the line between reality and fantasy. It first made its debut in February 1983 and shot through the theaters like a bullet. Its short run may have been overshadowed by the juggernauts like "Return of the Jedi," "Scarface," and "Flashdance," but the film’s message remains relevant today.
David Cronenberg’s narratives are fused with violence, sex and technology – theme’s that are now dominant in our contemporary culture. Throughout Cronenberg’s career, his films had toyed with the dramatization of these themes. Speaking through his films, he believes that human's desires remain dangerously close to the circuit of a death wish. A theme that persists in “Videodrome”.
Using psychedelic action and erotic violence, "Videodrome" served as an early warning: if we fail to change, entertainment will become the cancer to our minds.
At the time, Videodrome was one of very few to recognize the problem with our entertainment. Many believed that only violent imagery was molding human behavior, causing people to act out. However, Cronenberg undermines this notion, and suggests that //any// content reshapes our consciousness. He argues that any interaction with digital media leaves us vulnerable, allowing it to destructively spread in our minds. Throughout the film, Max Renn stumbles into the rabbit hole left by the channel, searching for answers. He learns from characters like Brian O’Blivion that the line between reality and fiction has been more than blurred - it's been erased by Videodrome. No longer would entertainment remain confined to our TV sets; it would live and feed off our brains, infiltrating our lives. We would be forced to satisfy its endless hunger, one that seeks to tear us from our identities and reshape our very consciousness. As a result, it would leave us with only violent, erotic hallucinations to satisfy our drained brains.
Max Renn may have hallucinated breasts appearing from his TV, but this isn't so different from what we consume in our digital lives today. Our interactions with digital media may have evolved, but the core themes remain horrifyingly the same. Now with instant access to everything via the internet, we are inundated with content at such rapid speeds that there’s no time to process or critically evaluate it. Rather, we now live to serve this digital media in an endless cycle, constantly reshaping our identities as we intake it’s relentless flow. We are no longer the same species that once had power over digital media.
Now we live in a new body, overtaking by permanent hallucinations.
A New Flesh.
In the present day, our digital lives are now one with our body, to the extent that existence without it seems inconceivable. And while reflecting on a film like "Videodrome,” it becomes apparent that we were warned of these consequences long ago. While the film may be forty-one years old, its messages remain incredibly relevant. Before we could fully comprehend the effects of technology and humanity, Cronenberg meticulously portrayed its horrors in this film.
Maybe we were too preoccupied, too captivated by the colors to heed his warnings. But in this era of severed connection and relentless consumption, we can only pause to ask:
Who truly holds the reins? At what point do our pleasures become a disease, and where do we draw the line?
