Maple Syrup Massacre is an editorial series where Joe Lipsett dissects the themes, conventions and contributions of new and classic Canadian horror films. Spoilers follow…

Three films into his feature film career, Brandon Cronenberg has established himself as an innovative and confronting auteur in his own right. When he debuted his 2012 feature debut Antiviral, however, the quality of the film was a secondary topic; first and foremost he was compared to his famous father, David Cronenberg.

There’s a obvious level of cynicism involved whenever a celebrity’s child enters the same field (let’s all agree to bury the term “nepo baby” and move on with our lives). But in the case of Cronenberg junior, there’s an interesting argument to be made about how his father’s work influenced Brandon’s creative approach, and where he’s established himself in his own right.

For a time, David Cronenberg was indisputably Canada’s most famous director (he and Atom Egoyan seemed to parry for public favour throughout most of the early 90s). Not only had Cronenberg senior carved out a niche for himself with his “body horror” films of the 80s, Cronenberg was one of the few Canadian filmmakers actively working in horror. There were plenty of folks involved in the Tax Shelter Era of the late 70s and 80s*, when Canada was actively courting American investment – often in low budget horror films – but few writers and directors were making a career of it.

*There’s also been plenty of debate about the quality and merit of a lot of the films made during this period, but that’s another editorial.

All of this to say that, in the 80s and into the 90s the most active, recognizable Canadian working in genre was David Cronenberg, which means he shaped the industry and public perception of horror and sci-fi.

Fast forward to 2012 when Brandon Cronenberg debuted Antiviral at Cannes, his debut feature competed in the Un Certain Regard section. Cronenberg senior’s Cosmopolis, meanwhile, was in competition for the Palme D’or. And both films share the same female lead (Sarah Gadon). So not only was the son contending with the legacy of his famous father, they were both in the public eye with the same actor at the same time.

Comparisons were inevitable.

Antiviral follows Syd (Caleb Landry Jones), a low-level employee working at the Lucas Clinic. In the film’s gently futuristic world, the public’s obsession with celebrity has been taken to extreme new lengths, including the collection of celebrity diseases for injection, and incubation in their most ardent fans. Throughout the film we see Syd peddling the fantasy of being closer to fictitious celebrities like Aria Noble (Nenna Abuwa) or Hannah Geist (Gadon) via infection with their herpes or flu.

The real money, however, comes from corporate espionage. Syd injects himself with patent-protected diseases and uses a bootleg ReadyFace machine in his closet to crack the security mechanism, leaving him free to sell the diseases to Arvid (Joe Pingue), whose legitimate business is growing celebrity cell steaks for literal cannibalistic consumption.

The plot of the film kicks in when Syd accidentally doses himself with a deadly virus that is slowly killing Geist, necessitating plenty of desperate deals with seedy underworld types in order to uncover a cure before he dies.

As a film, Brandon Cronenberg’s feature debut is a little too long, a little too repetitive, and lacking in the same critical bite that his subsequent features – Possessor and Infinity Pool – contain.

As a debut feature, Antiviral accomplishes two simultaneous tasks. On one hand it establishes the foundation of Brandon’s visual style and narrative interests that will continue throughout his subsequent films. On the other hand, it also appears to be drawing from, engaging with, and even anticipating his father’s (past and future) work.

Like many of his father’s body horror films, Brandon’s feature debut has a cool, antiseptic visual aesthetic that stands in stark contrast with the dirty real world. There are plenty of scenes set within hotels and private clinics – with an emphasis on white walls, sterile syringes and medical equipment. This contrasts with the film’s grimy, low-fi vibe – embodied in the repurposed look of the ReadyFace machine, the basement of the restaurant where Syd is brought to Levine (James Cade), as well as Arvid’s unhygienic backroom.

These visual signifiers carry over into Possessor’s assassination office space, as well as the first-class resort in Infinity Pool. Possessor also adopts Antiviral’s same narrative interest in exploring corporate espionage, as well as themes of assassination and the loss of bodily autonomy. With its defined capitalist critique and slight shift away from body horror, Infinity Pool suggests a similar, albeit new creative direction for Cronenberg junior.

So what about Antiviral’s connective tissue (heh) to David Cronenberg’s films?

Syd’s status as an individual caught in a vast corporate espionage conspiracy tracks with 1981’s Scanners and 1983’s Videodrome, though the intersection of celebrity, body horror, and capitalist spy games most closely evokes David Cronenberg’s unofficial Videodrome sequel, 1999’s eXistenZ. In that film, celebrity game designer Allegra Gellar (Jennifer Jason Leigh, who also stars in Possessor) goes on the run following an assassination attempt by a corporate rival while beta testing her new game.

There are brief moments of hallucination in both Antiviral and eXistenZ: the uncertainty of the changing Canadian landscape in the latter, partnered with Pikul (Jude Law)’s fear of penetration is reminiscent of Syd’s nightmare in which his mouth has been replaced by a metal grill that leaks blood. The blossoming contusion on Syd’s arm where Levine takes a skin sample is evocative of eXistenZ diseased game pod, while Syd’s physical degradation, including his reliance on a cane, brings to mind Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum)’s transformation in The Fly.

Sidebar: it’s ironic that few critics noted how funny Antiviral is, particularly in the moments when Syd eavesdrops on the inane conversation of his co-workers. Cronenberg senior has a dark humour streak through many of his films, including eXistenZ. Case in point: Willem Dafoe’s performance as Gas.

The conversation between father and son appears to go both ways. Cronenberg famously returned to body horror last year with Crimes of the Future (a spiritual sequel to Videodrome & eXistenZ). The visual signifiers of Syd’s weakening condition, his sudden ascent in popularity due to his illness, the potential to profit from individuals’ literal bodies, and even the disgusting celebrity cell meat in Antiviral all have counterparts in Cronenberg senior’s return to horror (hint: think of those toxic purple bars).

Whether Cronenberg senior was deliberately drawing connections to his son’s work, or it is further evidence that father and son’s creative sensibilities remain entwined, the parallels are fascinating. Considering David Cronenberg’s substantial contributions to the development and (eventual) recognition of the artistic merits of genre films in Canada, watching Brandon embody the same visual and narrative preoccupations while also emerging as a powerful artist in his own right has been incredibly exciting.

David Cronenberg is currently in post-production on new genre film The Shrouds, which begs the question: where will his and Brandon’s work go in the future and (how) will they continue to engage each other in cinematic conversation?