In the not-so-distant future (or an alternate version of our reality), society's fixation with the famous and wealthy has reached a new extreme. Fans pay to be infected with illnesses, from the common cold to venereal diseases, collected from their favorite celebrities and also dine on their cloned flesh. At one of the top disease-distributing firms, an introverted and pale salesman is secretly stealing and pirating the coveted product using his own bloodstream, a dangerous practice which forces him to play a lethal game of corporate and medical intrigue. This is a modest, but neat satire by way of a macabre genre film. None of its targets and/or tensions (the pop-culture spectacle of celebrity, the privatization of science and life itself) are a revelation, but it elevates itself through potent atmosphere and a certain twisted sense of purpose. The ultra-antiseptic production design and deliberate pace may prove alienating to many at first, but I still found myself drawn in, and I swear I am complimenting gifted star Caleb Landry Jones when I say he is perfectly cast as the ailing, inscrutable, and otherworldly protagonist. His seductive-cadaver aura is unique among his generation, and it is hard to imagine anyone else portraying this character with such commitment. The fact the film is directed by Brandon Cronenberg, son of the legendary David, is a bit hilarious in the way it conjures a mental picture of father/son bonding at the Toronto city morgue, and a cynic may wonder aloud if Brandon is unduly establishing himself by catering without shame to his father's cult fan base and their tastes, but, overall, he has crafted an ambitious and entertaining picture which indicates a bright future as he continues to define his directorial voice.

B