On David Cronenberg's Videodrome

Videodrome posits a universe in which the human mind has been effectively brainwashed and usurped by excesses of consumption, addiction, and technology – specifically by the intertwined mediums of television and sadomasochistic sexual gratification, implicitly marketed as drugs by agents of corporate capitalism. With the pronouncement near the beginning of the film that Civic-TV is “the one you take to bed with you,” we are given an early indication as to the toxic property of these fused addictions that go on to literally destroy the protagonist's life. Max Renn is presented to viewers as slovenly, unkempt, perverted and jaded by over-stimulation – from his unshaven appearance to his robe and questionable breakfast of coffee and pizza as he reviews pornography on his television, his multiple vices are made evident from the onset. The inherently seedy nature of his profession, the sleaziness of flirting with Nicki while on nationalized television and later willingness to engage in sadomasochistic pleasure with her, and the way he treats women in his office (casually slapping his interns on the behind) also underscore a flawed personality tainted by the insatiable desire for sexual stimulation.

Videodrome is not only about man's perpetual and obsessive desire for excess, but the erosion of self-identity incurred by addictive technology as a horrific extension of the body with radical sadomasochistic implications. This is visualized most abjectly by Max's hallucinogenic abdominal vagina and “fleshgun” as he is rendered victim to the drug-like effects of “Videodrome.” Much like ConSec in Scanners, this process of indoctrination and mental-bodily slavery benefits hegemonic multinational enterprises – in this case, Spectacular Optics. The internal conflict between mind and body is exacerbated by the uncertainty of Max's hallucinations. As Max gradually begins to lose his sense of subjective self to “Videodrome,” the line between hallucination and reality – television and reality – is increasingly blurred for both Max and the viewer. As his torment eventually crosses the reality threshold into murder and rebellious subversion, Max is eventually overcome by an illusory desire to transcend “the flesh” and all its bodily excesses and limitation – as Professor O'Blivion has proven possible by virtue of his pre-recorded posthumous “existence.”

Significantly, the professor also states that “O'Blivion is not my real name; it is my television name...” He eerily and presciently predicts that in the future, everyone will have a cryptic pseudonym – ominously, if unintentionally, foreshadowing the contemporary era of instant communication (or instant gratification.) On Internet websites like Facebook, I am particularly fascinated by the relationship between things we choose to reveal about ourselves and things we selectively omit – consciously or otherwise. As a digitized representative extension of our idealized selves, social networking is an outlet used primarily for perpetual public refinement of the persona. Social networking, chat rooms, and message boards offer individuals an addictive medium and the unprecedented opportunity to reinvent their identities, while cellular devices equipped with Internet access for the purposes of social media take the concept of bodily extension to frighteningly realistic degrees unforeseen by Cronenberg in 1982. The Internet has come to transgress television as a medium for corporate capitalism's globalized technological excesses and its propensity to feed off human weaknesses for profit. As a cautionary tale, Videodrome may be more relevant than ever in 2009.