Profanación (The shrouds)

Cronenberg's 2024 film explores death and technology. The film surrounded the idea of grieving with the story of Karsh (Vincent Cassel) is a wealthy tech-entrepreneur mourning the death of his wife. His influence within the tech field, using a new software (called "Shroud") for mourning tradition that the living surviving loved ones can use.

His wife's body, is documented with cameras showing the decaying process, connected to cellular apps, etc.. Personal technology allows for the mourning to continue - it's the digital age for necromancy? A love like Cassel's obsession with his wife's body, that he projects onto to his wife's sister both roles played by Diane Kruger.

The rest of the film becomes almost noir-like amateur sleuth story. Karsh trying to solve recent desecrated cemetery plots including his wife's burial spot. The film's pace swifts into subplots, it's bit of a sidetracked.

The film is different from his recent productions, set in Canada. Its tone is somber, almost quiet not relying gore or onscreen violence. The most violent reference is the desecrated burials (which isn't seen and the other is Cancer. The terminal illness killed Karsh's wife (within his dreams, flashback scenes).

The film got critical reactions since Cronenberg's motivation was the death of the director's wife, Carolyn. Aesthetically, this film wasn't really exploring body horror, completely abandoned even the gore effects. Yes, it can be suggested as a decaying corpse to body deformation caused by Cancer and it's surgeries on Karsh's late wife.

Moreover, it explores Westernized traditions of memorialize the dead, mourning process catches up with 21st century technology: social media culture. If this is Cronenberg's prediction in the near future of memorialization? It's pretty credible that wealthy tech icons could be exploring. He puts quite of bit in tech aspects from encryption to resolution topics, throws off film's humanistic focus.

This was a disappointing movie outing. After Crimes of the Future featured a committed exploration of a weird slice of dystopian future life, I was hoping for more of the same here. Meanwhile, what we get are several disjointed, partially explored ideas mixed together, a meandering narrative, and an unsatisfying ending. Is this a political thriller? A familial drama? A physiological body horror? And the unrealistic, spoon-fed dialogue, which unfortunately seems characteristic of Canadian cinema (I say this as a Canadian). I kept waiting to feel something, to be intrigued by some thought provoking ideas, but it never happened. If you must watch this, save your money and wait until it streams.

David Cronenberg's latest film "The Shrouds"- presented at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival-is a deeply personal meditation on grief, mortality, and the strange future of death.

Written in the years following the passing of his wife Carolyn in 2017, Cronenberg takes that emotional foundation further by casting Vincent Cassel as his clear cinematic doppelgänger, reinforcing the intimate, autobiographical nature of the film.

Marketed as a profoundly personal reckoning with grief and a descent into noir-tinged dystopia, "The Shrouds" delivers exactly that-layered with a touch of dark humor.

While it echoes themes and aesthetics from Cronenberg's past works-Spider, Videodrome, Naked Lunch, Crash-this film ultimately carves out its own space. It resists categorization, existing instead as a haunting artistic expression of Cronenberg's personal sorrow. In essence, "The Shrouds" isn't just a film; it's a cinematic eulogy, built on the decomposing bodies of its characters, confronting the raw horror of human fragility.

Rather than retelling the plot-complex and tangled as a spider's web, and easily found in trailers or synopses-I'd rather focus on the film's core themes and the impression it left on me.

At its heart, "The Shrouds" is a dystopian puzzle, obsessed with grief and the voyeuristic impulse to peer into death itself. In a world increasingly defined by surveillance and digital access, our collective morbid fascination is no longer metaphorical-it's tangible, and disturbingly real.

The titular "shroud" is a piece of funerary technology: a cloth embedded with countless tiny X-ray cameras, placed inside a coffin to allow loved ones to watch their deceased slowly decompose.

This invention stems from protagonist Karsh's (Cassel) desperate longing to lie beside his wife Bekka (Diane Kruger) in death, and has since become the cornerstone of his high-tech mourning empire. At one point, someone draws a comparison to the Shroud of Turin; Karsh casually dismisses it as a fake. The implication is clear: this is the real thing, and it's horrifying.

There's no question that death is life's most difficult truth to face. Losing someone you love is a trauma that defies reason, and the desire to remain connected-even after death-is achingly human.

But Cronenberg explores this yearning in a deeply unsettling way, reimagining cemeteries not just as places of mourning, but as sites of strange, macabre entertainment. It's painful, haunting, and brutally honest-perhaps the clearest glimpse we've ever had into Cronenberg's own soul.

Some scenes strike with visceral metaphorical power. In fragmented flashbacks, Karsh recalls tender moments with Bekka as her illness progresses-each embrace a risk, her body growing so fragile that even affection becomes dangerous.

We often associate love with gentleness, but Cronenberg asks us to reconsider that: what if love is inherently bound to fragility and decay?

The film forces us to confront that intersection-symbolically, emotionally, and physically-drawing us into the terrifying inevitability of aging and loss. It's as though Cronenberg is transmitting from the other side of grief, from a place beyond consolation.

The film also evokes comparisons to the real-world work of Gunther von Hagens (a German anatomist who pioneered the plastination technique-a groundbreaking method for preserving biological tissue specimens), and his plastinated corpses, as well as the "peeping tom" impulses common in horror fandom-a desire to look into the afterlife, to see death. And it reminds us that this isn't just a genre quirk-it's a societal impulse.

The dystopia in "The Shrouds" isn't some distant sci-fi future-it feels chillingly close. The film touches on themes of mental illness, addiction, and destructive desire (reminiscent of earlier Cronenberg works), while also weaving in threads of advanced technology, artificial intelligence, international paranoia, and xenophobia.

Unfortunately, many of these intriguing ideas remain underdeveloped, sketched more than fully explored. At times, "The Shrouds" feels less like a cohesive narrative and more like a collection of powerful notes toward a larger, unfinished project.

One subplot-Karsh investigating an act of vandalism at his futuristic cemetery with the help of his associate Maury-feels more like a device to carry us from theme to theme rather than a driving plot.

The film also quietly raises the idea of how different cultures and religions process death-a subtle layer that, while not heavily emphasized, adds depth to the broader commentary.

As the credits rolled, I found myself asking, "What did I just watch?" But that confusion felt right.

"The Shrouds" isn't meant to offer answers. It's a cinematic expression of grief so personal it resists conventional interpretation. Each viewer will take something different from it-and that, I think, is the point.

One final thought lingered: David's daughter, Caitlin Cronenberg, made her directorial debut last year with "Humane," a film very different in tone and style, yet also centered around death.

It's hard not to wonder whether these two films, father and daughter's respective explorations of mortality, stem from the same emotional origin-the loss of a wife and mother.

If so, that shared grief has birthed two deeply resonant, if radically different, works of art. In the end, "The Shrouds" isn't trying to comfort-it's trying to haunt. And in that, it succeeds.

Made after losing his wife to cancer in 2017, The Shrouds is a movie where Cronenberg explores the topic of grief. At its best, it shows how the memory of a loved one infects everything in your life afterwards, to the point of losing sight of what's real. Vincent Cassel plays Karsch , an alter ego of David Cronenberg, with uncanny physical resemblance. That the movie uses fantasy to explore the theme of grief in the most conceptual of ways is a strength. It digs, asks questions, and you experience during the movie the confusion that Karsh endures in life. It depicts grief as a form of craziness, almost a mental disease. It's interesting.

At the same time, the whole thing is so conceptual and so dark that it's hard to follow. Maybe I wasn't mentally ready for it. But it felt long, a bit boring, very confusing. I think it's the goal of the whole movie, but you need to be prepared for it when you go in. This is not a movie that will grab you. You will have to make an effort to go through it.

At it's base it's not a terrible movie, the problem is that the base consists of so many ideas and subjects that it's hard not to get lost in all of the mess.

It's a critique of technological advance, AI, privacy & spyware, (experimental) surgeries and health, the Chinese, capitalism, rich people, modern society and so on and so on ... The bad writing doesn't help either, the dialogue can be stupid or just straight up exposition, the story jumps between characters and plot lines in a sloppy way, and I know (or at least think) that some of the dialogue is self aware and doesn't take itself seriously, which made it corny, funny (the audience laughed from time to time) and honestly fun. You can consider this movie a "so bad it's good" movie, at least that's how I see it, I certainly didn't suffer.