David Cronenberg
2022
107 minutes
This is a David Cronenberg movie about cool chairs that help you digest food. There's some sort of plot involving mutant performance artists growing surplus human organs for surgical extraction in front of crowds of cued-in hipster art enthusiasts while dodging police intervention and being able to digest microplastics or something. But mainly cool chairs.
You used to have a cool chair when you were in grad school. You scored a hemodialysis chair from someplace that had surplus. It was extremely heavy and it was the best computer chair ever. You laid a plank over the arms to put your keyboard on and it had a panel on the side for surgical instruments where you put your mousepad. It fully reclined. It was so comfortable you could sleep in it and sometimes did. You could fit two people on it and sometimes did. Eventually you had to put it out on the curb when you moved from that apartment since it was too heavy to take with you.
Like many pieces of discarded medical equipment, it was probably haunted. The amount of comfort you got from it combined with the fact that you were in your twenties and it was so bloody comfortable canceled out any of the ghost vibes that revolved around it at the time. Your twenties are a time to take such risks. Now you wouldn't dare.
You wish your internal organs were better at digesting plastic and other non-food items. The American diet appears to consist largely of soggy starch soaked in grease, which your gut reacts poorly to. You often must result to cooking for yourself from scratch to have any hope of not eating extremely expensive food that makes you violently ill. Living in a food desert has made this a daily nightmare, and you're having more and more trouble even getting fresh produce that isn't either prohibitively expensive or already swarmed with gnats and fruitflies at the grocery store.
This film makes you nostalgic for luxuries such as chairs and grocery shopping.
Time to choose something different: