Dead Ringers, 1988
With the "descent into madness" thing being such a thematic cliche, I feel like proper execution rests more in the hands of your lead and their ability to take it and run with it. Of course the writing plays an astronomical part, having all the content and whatever, but can ultimately fall flat if it's not brought to life on the screen. In
Dead Ringers,
Jeremy Irons takes it and runs a damn marathon with it, and treats us to one of the greatest descents ever.
After watching this again recently, I may have to reevaluate my ranking of the
David Cronenberg movies I've seen. I've always repped this one highly but behind his fantastical body horror opuses. I'd have to watch
the Fly again but I can definitely say I like
Dead Ringers more than
Videodrome and
the Brood (my previous
Cronenberg trifecta).
Dead Ringers is more personal and humanistic, relying more on genuine paranoia and disquiet than surreal and otherworldly depictions of scientific macabre.
The lunacy of our protagonist is amped up greatly as he becomes overtaken by drugs, and we as an audience in turn grow sympathetic as we witness the origins and advancement of the madness. So along with the overall grim hospital air, heartbreak pierces through the gloom and it becomes a truly crushing endeavor.