"I had a very disturbing dream last night. In this dream I found myself making love to a strange man. Only I'm having trouble you see, because he's old... and dying... and he smells bad, and I find him repulsive. But then he tells me that everything is erotic, that everything is sexual. You know what I mean? He tells me that even old flesh is erotic flesh. That disease is the love of two alien kinds of creatures for each other. That even dying is an act of eroticism. That talking is sexual. That breathing is sexual. That even to physically exist is sexual. And I believe him, and we make love beautifully."
The Starliner, a luxury apartment complex on an island near Montreal, is overrun by caustic parasites that amplify the host's sexual desires, thus leading to the creatures spreading via any available human orifice. Transmitted through intimate contact and at other times getting around independent of a host and attacking at random, the phallic slug-like creatures reproduce rapidly. The creation of a doctor at a local research facility with the intent that they be medically useful as, once implanted, they search out failing organs, dissolve them, and replace them with full function. But the apparently insane doctor also intended them as "a combination of aphrodisiac and venereal disease that will hopefully turn the world into one beautiful, mindless orgy." So when he implanted a 19-year-old female student with some parasites (a girl with whom he he'd been having an affair since she was a minor), she went all horny and got down to business with a number of the complex's male residents, and then it was off to the races for the nasty little wigglies. Literally overnight, the situation escalates to a proliferation akin to George Romero-style proportions, with the infected behaving like swarming zombies, only this time around the zombies are sentient and will sexually assault you, resulting in a mindless, writhing euphoric dog pile of orgiastic couplings.
A self-contained horny apocalypse.
Young or old, regardless of sexual orientation and even direct familial connection, no one is exempt from this horrific invasion, so how does one keep up with them, much less stop them altogether? The complex's on-premises all-purpose physician, Dr Roger St. Luc (Paul Hampton), investigates and attempts to navigate through this hell of the horny but it soon becomes apparent that there is no escape...
SHIVERS, released in the U.S. as THEY CAME FROM WITHIN, is the debut theatrical feature by Canadian master of "body horror" David Cronenberg, and his clinical approach to the body gone wrong is apparent from the word "go. The parasites are an obvious metaphor for STDs in the post-hippie era, and perhaps even a snarky commentary on the ludicrous setups in '70's porn where people just walk into a room and start fucking with barely so much as a "How do you do?" Everybody in this movie gets jumped and infected, and I do mean everybody, including children, with the most disturbing example of this being an infected father/daughter pair who attempt to entice Dr. St. Luc into joining them for a threesome. (I let out a loud "Eurgh" at that one.)
But while the parasites invade and proliferate through sexual assault, the end result is indeed their creator's intended utopia of a mindless orgy in which all are embraced and apparently happy (if quite crazed). One of the threads in this prurient tapestry is that of Janine Tudor (Susan Petrie), wife of Nick (Alan Migicovsky). Unbeknownst to Janine, Nick has been cheating on her with 19-year-old parasite Patient Zero and is infected with the wigglies, so he has grown distant from his wife. Janine worries for him because she thinks his illness might be cancer or something equally dire, but once the parasites gain full control over Nick, he attempts to rape Janine by way of spreading the parasites. Understandably terrified, Janine flees their apartment and makes her way to the flat of her best friend, Betts (horror and exploitation film legend Barbara Steele). They are seen interacting a couple of times earlier in the film, and it is made clear that Betts is single and independent, and there are hints of potential for something more than simple friendship intimacy between the two women. What the audience is aware of but Janine is not is that earlier that evening, Betts was vaginally invaded by a parasite while she enjoyed a hot bath and a glass of wine, so Janine is seeking comfort and support from one of the infected.
Horror and exploitation film legend Barbara Steele as the unfortunate Betts, receiving an bathtime unwanted visitor up the cooter.
But unlike the ravening rapists infesting the rest of the Starliner complex, Betts is kind to Janine, and offers tender seduction in lieu of violent assault. The neglected and mistreated Janine responds, thus unwittingly and painlessly joining the ranks of the infected. There is no violence in the women's coupling, and if not for the parasitic element, it would be beautiful.
As the entire complex swiftly falls to the parasites, there is a twisted joy evident in all involved, so even though the creatures spread via sexual assault, the victims shortly come to exist in a state of what appears to be joyfully mindless sexual insatiability, a thronging hive mind of febrile pussy and cock, if you will, so is the end result really all that bad? Cronenberg does not answer that question and instead opts to leave things open-ended, but for all intents and purposes the events ignited at the Starliner could mean the end of the world as we knew it. It's like INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS or a zombie apocalypse narrative where the individual is subsumed into a faceless, mindless horde, only this time everybody gets laid.
SHIVERS presents a majorly fucked-up scenario when one stops to examine its ramifications, and I very much doubt a film like this could be gotten away with today without seriously toning down the concept and content. It's quite hellish, and the fact that something so very physical/carnal and utterly bleak is what Cronenberg brought us in his initial effort serves as a harbinger of a fascinating and intellectually challenging filmography marked with uncomfortable explorations of the body and its potential to lapse into that which is grossly un-human. Not perfect and in places clearly the work of a filmmaker who was learning his craft by the seat of his pants, SHIVERS is nonetheless compelling stuff right out of the gate.
I've been a Cronenberg junkie since seeing SCANNERS (1981) during its original release when I was sixteen, but I somehow missed seeing this first film from the director until watching it for this year's round of essays. Finally discovering it at age 58 was a real treat, and I strongly recommend it. One of my favorites from this year's screenings, and now one of my favorite works from Cronenberg.
Poster for the U.S. release.
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