Rose (Marilyn Chambers) and her boyfriend Hart (Frank Moore) are motorcycling around the Canadian countryside. After an accident, Rose is severely injured and laid up in the Keloid Clinic – a private plastic surgery center – recovering from an experimental tissue regeneration procedure. This new technology repairs her injuries; it also leaves her with a taste for human blood, a new organ for draining her victims and the carrier of a rabies-like virus that infects survivors of her feeding. When she escapes to Montreal, the infection spreads, the city’s population becoming violent, foaming-at-the-mouth killers. Will the plague – and Rose – be stopped?
Like all of writer-director David Cronenberg’s more personal work – in contrast to later films such as Eastern Promises – Rabid displays a mix of fascination and distrust of technology, a fixation on the corruption of the body through, to borrow a phrase from his film Videodrome,the “new flesh,” and the interplay of sex and horror. These constant themes – and the arresting images they are conveyed by – set Cronenberg apart from most other science fiction/horror filmmakers and make even his low budget efforts worth watching and analyzing.
Cronenberg’s film “universe” is filled with shadowy institutions like the Keloid Clinic (other examples include The Brood’s Somafree Clinic and Videodrome’s Spectacular Optical Corporation) where advances in science and technology take place removed from the public, whether physically – the Keloid Clinic is in the middle of the Canadian countryside – or behind layers of corporate obfuscation (an effective metaphor for the lack of understanding we have regarding the science and technology that permeates our lives). While the advances in Cronenberg’s films are often spectacular – tissue regeneration in Rabid, telepathy in Scanners, immersive virtual reality in eXistenZ – without fail, they lead to unforeseen problems with potentially catastrophic consequences. The technology pioneered by the Keloid Clinic would be a leap forward in surgery; however, mankind is not in full control of his technology in Cronenberg’s films. Our knowledge is imperfect and tainted by base concerns. In Rabid, the clinic is using the new technology primarily for cosmetic surgery, in order to increase financial support for further research. It is this lack of purity of motives and wisdom in the application of knowledge that constantly leads Cronenberg’s characters to disaster.
Cronenberg’s “new flesh” – the personalization and characterization of the impact of technology on the individual and society – never results in a positive advancement for mankind. At best, the incorporation of the “new flesh” leads to ambiguity, with the affected character changing in ways that sever his connection with humanity. In Rabid, however, there is no ambiguity. After being subjected to experimental surgery, Rose is physically perfect; however, the incorporation of the “new flesh” into her body leads to horrific results. Rose’s “new flesh” can only survive on human blood. To feed on her victims, Rose grows a new, blood draining organ, the human body changing to accommodate the pressures of technological advancement. Further, while we don’t know Rose before the accident, it is clear from the reactions of other characters that her personality has changed. As we see her, she is little more than a vampiric junkie, doing whatever is needed to get the next “fix” of human blood. The “new flesh” – the way we react to technology and how it changes us – is a violent, destructive force.
While not dealt with as explicitly as in his previous film (Shivers), the link between sex and horror that is the third major theme of Cronenberg’s body of work is present in Rabid as well. Rose’s method of feeding requires a tight embrace, which a number of her victims misinterpret as a sexual advance. She gains access to some of her victims by taking advantage of their sexual desire for her. The nature of her new blood-siphoning organ – a phallic proboscis emerging from a vaginal hole in her armpit – doesn’t leave much to the imagination. The uneasy tension between sexual desire and the unwanted possibilities associated with it – disease, violence, finding out the person you went to bed with is not the person you thought they were – are all present here.
Is Rabid a good movie? Beyond being a formative work of one of the most interesting film-makers of the last 35 years, has merits that help it overcome its low-budget limitations. Marilyn Chambers turns out to be a decent actor. While an example of “stunt casting” – Chambers was at the height of her porn career during the late-70s – she does a credible job as the alternately confused, terrified, desperate and predatory Rose. The special effects – mostly fake blood, some mildly graphic surgery scenes and Rose’s blood draining organ – are competently handled. The cinematography makes the most out of a bleak, early winter landscape and numerous night scenes. The movie flows nicely, with a good balance between action and character moments.
The low budget does hurt during the spread of the plague in Montreal. Having a few extras in white bio-hazard suits and surplus army uniforms shooting a couple of plague victims fails to create a “city on the edge of chaos” feel. Also, while Chambers puts in a good performance, the rest of the cast is uneven. In particular Frank Moore turns in an emotionally deadened performance – although, to be fair, Cronenberg seems to like having his actors underplay their character’s emotional states.
Ultimately, Rabid is successful in spite of its limitations. It is a thought-provoking work by one of the cinema’s most original filmmakers. Whether you are a Cronenberg fan or just looking for an interesting diversion from the usual horror fare, Rabid is worth checking out.
The version reviewed is available on DVD from Somerville House.
