Cronenberg drops us into the seamy world of television broadcasting which Channel 83 executive Max Renn (James Woods) navigates as he receives a morning brief via video. We instantly see he lives an untidy life, but he’s still committed to looking for the next shocking thing to host on his channel. He’s tired of the soft but still scandalous fare that is scouted for programming. He doesn’t know how much his life, or at least his mind, will change when he’s introduced to Videodrome. This possibly pirate broadcast features material beyond the tasteless, verging to the illegal. However, Max soon learns that once viewed, you become part of Videodrome and Videodrome becomes part of you, perhaps to fatal consequence.

While critics praised the film, the material was likely too weird and extreme for general audiences. Budgeted just under six million dollars, the film failed to recoup its expenses. Still, the resonant themes combined with the compelling acting of the leads and the imaginative visual effects has turned Videodrome into a true cult classic. Often, people assign that identifier to any movie that gets an updated media release. How can a film that focuses on the dead media of VHS say anything to a world of multiple streaming options?

Max Renn is an unsavory character, but Cronenberg doesn’t present him as fully unlikeable. Supposedly he has no limits, but even he’s taken aback by the actions of the mysterious Nicki Brand (Debbie Harry), even as he’s further drawn into seductive visuals of Videodrome. Nicki, introduced to Max on a hosted debate/discussion, reveals herself to be a woman of contradictory layers. Seemingly, she’s the voice of reflection concerning whether society has become overstimulated by the media landscape, but she reveals herself to be a woman of masochistic impulses.

As the attraction of Videodrome draws her in, Max becomes the voice of hesitation. However, it’s too late, as Max learns that Videodrome is more than entertainment, Nicki is both more and less than she seems, and there are greater ideological forces wanting use Videodrome to transform society. Max Renn, as an audience surrogate, is confident in knowing who he is at the start but uncertain of what’s physically tangible and mentally possible by the conclusion.

What most would remember about Videodrome are the odd and often disturbing visual effects. In one bizarre scene, a cold inanimate television set becomes a stirring fleshy object, inviting intimacy with Max. Is it alive, or is it part of Max’s increasingly off sense of reality? Even Max himself becomes an object of mutation as orifices appear without prompting and technology merges with his body. Media prophet Dr. O’Blivion speaks of “The New Flesh.” Max, whether he wants to or not, becomes the latest subject of media/technology/body evolution. At the end you may not understand fully what you’ve seen. The images, being both realistic in composition and fantastic in their presentation, will leave an impression.

Composer Howard Shore’s stylistic choice of music is interesting. He’s known for writing bombastic scores whether working with Cronenberg or with other directors. This time he decided for a more minimalistic approach. Though still utilizing traditional instrumentation, he has overlayed it with synthesizer tones. Rather than dramatic highs and lows, there’s a pulsating droning that occasionally falls away for a plangent flourish of strings. The music serves the film, and there’s nothing incorrect about the placement in the scenes. However, the synthesized orchestra may disconcert the listener. Possibly that was Cronenberg’s and Shore’s intention, but it also likely means for most people that this score won’t be on listening cycle outside the film, unlike other science fiction films and horror films of the 1980s.

Finally, the story development leads to two conclusions that may seem contradictory. First, one can appreciate the various themes that Cronenberg throws to the audience. What are the effects of media on humanity, especially involving extreme content; can one lose touch on reality as one delves further into video world; will increasing immersion in technology mutate us into something beyond what we know is the normal expedience?

However, the second conclusion is tangent to the first. There may have been a surfeit of themes to develop within the film’s running time to the viewer’s satisfaction. By the end, all gives way to Max becoming “The New Flesh” through a series of action sequences. We’re not even sure if he has agency in doing so. Cronenberg’s intentions for Max’s outcome may have influenced his plotting. That still might not be enough for the viewer who feels there’s an unbalanced ratio of questions to answers.

Now that we’ve been in the internet age for decades, Videodrome has the ostensible appearance of quaintness. For many, however, the digital world increasingly has taken the place of reality. This film invites us to reflect on who or what controls what or who as technology, especially as a means of entertainment, becomes ever more intertwined with humanity. Cronenberg presents ideas that he might not fully flesh out. Still, having something to mull over is better than just relying on visual effects to capture your audience’s attention.

We begin mid-conversation between scientist Seth Brundel (Jeff Goldblum) and reporter Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis) at an expo for researchers and inventors. Seth nonchalantly mentions that unlike the others, his invention will transform the world. Though she should exercise caution, Veronica is intrigued and brings back the mysterious and awkward Seth back to his place. Her doubts are soon shorn when he demonstrates his teleportation pods are not a gimmick. It’s a reality, that if publicized, would change the transportation world.

The only hiccup is that device cannot process “the flesh,” metaphorically and literally. Living material is not able to teleport successively. After Veronica helps him understand the flesh through connection, he’s able to solve the conundrum. Soon after though, this connection to another human leads to the sticky business of emotions that Seth has shut off for years. With a flare-up of anger and jealousy, he commits an error of judgement. The results are a genetic abomination and a tragedy for both.

Cronenberg’s most commercially and critically acclaimed film was surprise hit for 1986. Previous science-fiction horror remakes such as John Carpenter’s The Thing had lackluster response from both the audience and critics at the time. One would likely have predicted that the grisly fly transformation effects and dour ending would’ve dampened the box office. Instead, people praised the make-up. They also seemed to relate to the story of losing a loved one to a terminal disease, even with it wrapped in a fantastical package. The world seems to have changed much from 1982.

The relationship between Seth and Veronica is a draw for audiences, especially for those more inclined to dismiss the horror and science fiction genres as juvenile, or even worse, as junk. We don’t know what to feel when we first come across Seth. He’s not conventionally attractive per Hollywood standards, though there’s a spark of charm. He’s boastful, but his awkward nature somehow prevents this from tipping into an ugly arrogance. His behavior with Veronica when she first comes to his place would normally come across as creepy. However, he doesn’t attempt to make a first move romantically. He’s so unaware that he forgets that she came along as a journalist. He just wants to confide something important with another. His interaction with Veronica shows that he’s lived an isolated life, either by choice or social neglect.

It helps that the film sets up a scuzzy antagonist, Stathis (John Getz). This former boyfriend of Veronica and somewhat stereotypical corporate type provides the ick factor to keep us on Seth’s side. (It’s a fact in 80s movies that if you’re a professional with a beard, you’re distrustful). Though even he has a side that may prove to be a surprise to the audience, being part of the resolution to the escalating tragedy of Seth’s transformation.

Besides Cronenberg’s direction, Howard Shore’s score elevates the material beyond semi-remembered b-movie schlock. Shore pulls away from the synth soundscapes of the previous Cronenberg film Videodrome. He decides to flood the audience with an operatic-instrumental orchestration from the titles onward. Depending on the scene, the music whips our emotions from wonder of discovery to tension of frayed love to despair of biological terminus. Even though the sudden start and sharp end of the film could make the story seem like a slice-of-life narrative, the music transforms it into a 20th century tragedy. Just as in Classical Greek tragedy, where fate and the gods punish characters for their hubris, Seth is led down a similar path. It’s no wonder that the director later adapted the film into an opera.

There’s not much more that one can say about the make-up effects than already said. They are grotesque and especially in the final stage, out-of-this-world. However, Cronenberg never neglects the human element. What does that mean? We will likely never come across a man genetically spliced to a fly. However, it’s almost definite that we’ll see a friend or family member decay either due to disease or old age. It may not be as alien and dramatic a transformation as we see with Seth, but it’s a transformation from what we once knew, nonetheless.

At every stage of his change into the creature, we still see the once briefly happy and awkward man trying to poke through. Even though we know he no longer can fit with this world, we’re still sad to see the person that was Seth Brundle go. At the end, there’s still a personality within the insect.

The Fly is a cautionary tale, but the lessons are unlike that of the original 50s film. Yes, hubris in scientific endeavors may lead to unexpected, even unwanted results. This film, however, is warning that there must be a balance between technology and the heart (or the flesh). Seth is stunted socially until he meets Veronica. With her touch, he can make the final touch on his discovery. However, a life of withdrawn emotions has not prepared him when feelings break free, and he cares for an actual person. This lack of emotional control is just as harmful as living without emotion. It ends up costing Seth. The paradox is that during the journey to becoming a fly, Seth embraced more fully what it means to be human.