'Antivirus' — a satire of modern life by the son of the 'king of body horror'.

      Yes, the film isn't new, but against the backdrop of the genre's growing popularity it's worth remembering — especially since many still haven't heard of it.

      By body-horror canon everything usually unfolds relatively linearly and focuses on a single protagonist. Antivirus (18+), however, is a dystopia where bodily transformations have become part of everyday life. So to fully understand the genre you should get acquainted with this work too.

      What is the film about?

      In the near future, people, trying to get closer to their idols, begin buying viruses that their favorite stars once had, in order to contract the same illnesses. The process of transmitting diseases is, to some extent, intimate — the viruses that live in us once lived in someone else. Thus a new addiction has firmly entered the society of Antivirus.

      The main character Sid (Caleb Landry Jones — the new Dracula and Luc Besson's "muse") works for a company that sells celebrity viruses. Over time he starts moonlighting on the black market, and this leads him to rather gruesome consequences.

      I won't say more about the plot so as not to spoil the experience.

      Death = love?

      At first glance, the film's message seems obvious — a satire on how "stupid little people" strive at any cost to get closer to a phony ideal, sacrificing health and sanity. But it's not that simple.

      Besides the social agenda, Antivirus is about a peculiar kind of love of the protagonist, about what connection with another person means, and about how, out of fear of loneliness, we are willing to risk even our lives for closeness.

      Of course, films in the "body horror" genre exaggerate the central problem. Directors most often show it through crude, almost primitive imagery — to put it bluntly, very clunky. In The Substance (18+), for example, the fear of aging and loneliness is embodied in a direct contrast between the old and young versions of the heroine.

      And against that background Antivirus stands out noticeably.

      On the "sublime" through illness

      I previously wrote that I consider Antivirus an "elegant" body-horror. Cronenberg Jr. moved away from the usual narrative schemes and showed the process of transformation not through bodily ugliness but through inner changes. Here almost no one will break out in scabs, shed skin, and treat us to the other gruesome delights of the genre.

      If you're eating right now — my sincere apologies. Bon appétit!

      Technically the film is shot impeccably: concise, in a white-and-red palette. The picture is literally soaked with the feel of a sterile hospital ward and the scent of medicine. Looking at the characters, you involuntarily catch yourself wondering whether your tonsils are inflamed.

      Overall, Antivirus will land especially well in the fall — atmospheric, unhurried, and with a slight chill. And if, after Besson's "masterpiece," you've decided to get better acquainted with the filmography of the wonderful Caleb Landry Jones — even more so.

      There will be no rating here — judge for yourselves.