Late Cronenberg has been uncompromising, uncomfortable, and decidedly uncaring of a mass audience. This is a deep dive into the director's personal obsessions and themes that have haunted him throughout his entire career. It's in a way an autobiography (frame after frame of star Vincent Cassel might confuse the viewer as to if they're seeing Cassel or Cronenberg himself), an elegiac take on the death of his wife from cancer, and how private grief is processed. It's his steeliest, coldest film since Crash, with the same stately aesthetic; the straightforward dialog, closed off modern interiors, the technology that subsumes us all, the paranoia, the fear, the death fetishism, the body dysmorphia.