Review: “Infinity Pool”
Infinity Pool channels authentic rage and self-loathing into a visceral horror thriller… so then why are the results so impersonal? At it’s best, Brandon Cronenberg’s newest film is a stylish, twisted genre mash-up that’s desperate not to bore. Fans of Cronenberg’s previous film Possessor will find the same handsome aesthetic and unnerving tone, and that may be enough. Yet bland characterizations and thematic overambitions render the movie cold and largely aimless.
The story kicks off on a resort in the fictional nation of Li Tolqa. James Foster (Alexander Skarsgård) is there to cure his writers’ block, though his wife Em (Cleopatra Coleman) seems detached from his futile creative endeavors. Perhaps she's tired of bankrolling them. James and Em befriend actress Gabi (perennial horror weirdo Mia Goth) and charming Alban (Jalil Lespert), and the foursome drive out past the resort’s barbed-wire fences and into the ‘real’ country. When James hits and kills a local farmer, it sets them on a disturbing downward spiral full of bizarre twists and surreal, gross and sometimes psychedelic sights.
The most compelling aspect of the narrative is how it draws from the director’s own feelings of failure and shame. Like James, Cronenberg has struggled to carve out a name for himself, often assumed to be coasting on the achievements and wealth of his family. Having latched onto the same combo of body-horror/sci-fi his father pioneered, Cronenberg now wonders whether he has a voice of his own. Whether he’s truly his own person, in body and in mind. With James as his emasculated avatar, Cronenberg externalizes this mental anguish in all sorts of evocative, grisly ways. As brooding self-examination, the film is bracing and honest.
The problem is that Cronenberg wants it to be so much more than that. He wants it to be a satire of cultural appropriation. A class-conscious crime thriller, and a bitter reflection on changing sexual dynamics. There is value in each element he throws into the cauldron, but these ingredients wind up forming a gross, murky paste once congealed. Every good idea packs less punch when there are so many new, disparate ideas around each corner. With last year’s Crimes of the Future, David Cronenberg made a similar, metaphor-rich reflection on his career, but he did so with a clarity and focus that his son lacks.
There is little reason to buy into the story on an emotional level. James is a pathetic character by design, and Infinity Pool fails to find the humanity under his feeble, sullen shell. He is later initiated into a group of wealthy psychopaths, but they are all bland and interchangeable. Goth's escalating volume makes her the film's most intriguing presence, but Cronenberg can't replace depth with loudness and expect it to strike the same chord. The visuals are quite memorable, but it’s unlikely any of the characters will stay with me, which in turn lessens the impact of whatever messages about human nature or society that Cronenberg wanted to say.
Infinity Pool’s intriguing personal element struggles to shine through as the movie plunges into deep darkness. And then again and again, far after the shock value wears off. Without a tight plot or relatable characters to latch onto, the experience is unfocused and devoid of personality. Maybe that’s what the inside of Cronenberg’s head is like, and if so he deserves credit and respect for letting the audience in. There’s no question the film comes from an honest, personal place. It doesn’t mean that it’s a great place to visit.
Score: 4 out of 10
Infinity Pool is now playing in theaters.
