The following entries are among Cronenberg's most obscure efforts, so I don't expect many of you to have seen them. As such, I feel compelled to offer you some links to the shorts at hand, so that you're not going in completely blind, as there will be spoilers. Both shorts are under thirty minutes, so it's a pretty minor commitment of your time.
You can watch The Lie Chair here, and The Italian Machine here. (Sorry for the subtitles on the latter- it was the only version readily available in English.) Enjoy! 😎
After Shivers became the highest-grossing Canadian film up to that time, one would think that writer/director David Cronenberg would have been able to write his own meal ticket moving forward. One would be wrong. In his case, success came at a high price.
After critics viciously tore the film to pieces, the film proved so controversial that its worth was actually debated in Canadian Parliament! Even crazier, Cronenberg was unceremoniously booted out of his apartment for violating the so-called "morality clause"- only in Canada.
Perhaps needless to say, this did not go over well with Cronenberg's wife, Margaret, who had just given birth to his first child, Cassandra. As a newly minted father, he needed work, and he needed it fast, and yet, in spite of the enormous success of his last film, no one was particularly inclined to work with him, on account of all the controversy, even though he had another project, Rabid, good to go. While his producers on Shivers, aka Cinépix Film Properties, liked the script, securing financing proved elusive at first.
In the meantime, what with his having to move and a newborn child to attend to- both of which cost money to do, obviously- Cronenberg needed work, and fast. As before, he turned once again to Canadian television for gainful employment. Peep Show was a short-lived anthology series, which ran for one season of sixteen episodes. The show supported up-and-coming Canadian talent, leaning towards experimentation, though perhaps not so much as another show Cronenberg worked on, Programme X.
Cronenberg directed two episodes of the series, including the lesser-known and even lesser-seen The Victim, which I know very little about and wasn't able to track down a copy of online. It was based on a story written by actor-turned-writer Ty Haller, whose acting credits include the likes of Dr. Frankenstein on Campus, The Groundstar Conspiracy, One Minute Before Death, The Babysitter (with William Shatner, John Houseman and Patty Duke- it's not bad- you can watch it here) and, most hilariously, Overnight, about an out-of-work actor that takes a job on a vampire-themed porno!
The short was the last of the series to be shot, and starred longtime character actor Cedric Smith (Millenium, Witchboard III, Bless the Child), who would go on to appear in Cronenberg's Fast Company, as well as Friday the 13th: The Series, which Cronenberg would also direct an episode of.
It also featured Jonathan Welsh (City on Fire, Agency, The Surrogate) and Janet Wright, of the 1987 cult horror favorite American Gothic (the movie, not the TV show), the remake of Rollerball and the Jessica Biel horror flick The Tall Man. That's about all I got on that one, but feel free to let me know if you know more and I'll add it in.
The other episode Cronenberg did was another adaptation, the darkly funny The Lie Chair, this one by writer David "Dave" Cole, a longtime TV writer best-known for the paranormal detective series Seeing Things; the long-running E.N.G. (which also featured Jonathan Welsh) and Street Legal, as well as the cult favorite Due South, which he also co-produced. The Lie Chair was his first produced effort for the small screen.
The story revolves around a couple, Neil (Richard Monette, of Prom Night II, who looks a bit like a young Michael Sheen) and Carol (Susan Hogan, Phobia, Disturbing Behavior, The Butterfly Effect 2), whose car breaks down in a rainstorm, forcing them to seek help from a nearby residence occupied by two decidedly strange old ladies, Mildred (Amelia Hall, Coming Out Alive, Iceman) and Mrs. Rogers (Doris Petrie, Funeral Home, Ticket to Heaven).
While Mildred is initially hesitant to let them in, she finally acquiesces on one condition: that the two take part in the charade of acting as if they were Mrs. Rogers' grandchildren, who were supposed to be there, but were held up by the storm. It seems Mrs. Rogers is getting on in years, and is apparently senile, and Mildred swears she won't be able to tell the difference. While Carol is reticent to go along with the scheme, Neil is completely onboard, especially once they discover it's unlikely that they will be able to get help with their car until morning.
Be that as it may, Carol blows the whistle on the whole operation, only to find that, according to Mrs. Rogers, it's actually Mildred that's the senile one, and that it's she, Mrs. Rogers, that goes along with Mildred's scheme to make her happy, as, in fact, Mrs. Rogers' grandkids are long since dead, having perished in an awful accident. (By this point, wily longtime horror fans will likely begin to see where this is all going.)
That's not all the weird goings-on. After Mildred tells them there is no phone to call for help earlier, the couple is shocked to hear one ring- apparently the promised mechanic checking in to let them know he won't be able to help until morning. And yet, when Carol tries to use the phone herself, it's deader than a doornail.
Later, the couple are approaching a door when they hear children laughing and talking inside, but when they open the door, it's only Mildred there, who tells them about the titular "Lie Chair," which is a chair in which Mrs. Rogers' late husband used to tell fairytale-esque stories and white lies, and would allow his grandkids to do the same when they sat on it.
In addition, the couple suddenly find themselves knowing things about the house that they couldn't possibly know, such as the location of pajamas in a drawer and the like. Have they been here before? Might they actually BE Mrs. Rogers' long-lost grandkids? And if so, are they even amongst the living anymore? I'm sure you can figure it out yourself, but the answer is obviously no.
That makes this tale a variation of the old "ghosts that don't know that they are a ghost" story, which was among those featured in the much-beloved Scary Tales to Tell in the Dark series. Typically, these ghosts are bound to a specific locale and can't leave, which is part of what leads to their confusion and/or self-delusion. (See also The Turn of the Screw, The Others, The Orphanage, American Horror Story, et.al. for variations on this theme.)
While the short has a few relatively effective moments, it's hampered by the extreme low-budget look, which is very much akin to a play shot-on-videotape or an old-school soap. Or, if you prefer, a really low-rent porn, lol. The acting is fine overall, but it's really stagey, and doesn't feel at all like a Cronenberg film whatsoever. However, Cronenberg would go on to work with Hogan again on The Brood, and Petrie was in the Scanners spin-off, Scanners II: The Takedown, which Cronenberg was tangentially involved in, and she was also in a couple of episodes of the aforementioned Friday the 13th: The Series, so there's that.
Obviously, as a gun for hire on the project, technically it isn't a "real" Cronenberg project, but his previous foray into TV, Secret Weapons, which was also written by someone else, absolutely was, so that's a bit of a letdown. My point being that you can totally feel Cronenberg's presence and involvement all around on that one, but not so much on this one. Still, it's an interesting footnote to Cronenberg's early work that worth seeing at least once, I suppose.
Fortunately, his final project before he was able to finally start shooting his next movie Rabid, The Italian Machine, is pure Cronenberg from start to finish, I'm happy to say, even if it treads somewhat unfamiliar territory overall- at least to a point. But those familiar with Secret Weapons, Fast Company and even Crash, to a certain degree, will notice some themes and tropes that will be readily apparent. It was created for yet another Canadian anthology series, Teleplay.
It seems that Cronenberg was a bit of a gearhead back in the day, which led him to befriend Lionel Douglas, a fellow biker and writer that also was notorious for selling drugs and getting himself into trouble on a regular basis. The two went to University together, and one day, Lionel, who moonlighted as a photographer, told Cronenberg a story about an artist who bought a Ducati SuperSport motorcycle (aka the "Italian Machine" in question), only to display it as a work of art, rather than use it for what it was for- riding. Lionel couldn't believe his ears, and mused that someone should liberate the vehicle from the artist and put it to its intended use.
Cronenberg loved the story and set to writing his own variation of it, incorporating Lionel as a character, albeit highly exaggerated, and, as was his way, taking things to much further extremes. Reportedly, many of the other characters were also based on some of the colorful bikers and gearheads that Cronenberg interacted with back in the day. (See here for more.)
Unlike The Lie Chair, which you'd never guess was directed by Cronenberg unless you knew it going in, The Italian Machine is pure Cronenbergian madness from start to finish. The characters are gleefully over-the-top and often quite Lynchian before that was really a thing- his debut feature, Eraserhead, wouldn't be released until the following year, 1977. So, I suppose it's sort of proto-Lynchian. However, J.G. Ballard's novel Crash, which Cronenberg would go on to adapt as a film, was indeed released in 1973, so that may well have had some influence here.
The film is filled to the brim with insane scenarios, from Lionel's flip-out, in which he can only be made to calm down by strapping him down in a chair and having headphones forced on him, into which sounds of motorcycle engines gunning are blared into; to the bit at the artist's house, in which coke is sniffed with abandon- which I imagine didn't crop up on TV too often back then- as Lionel fetishtically drools over the aforementioned Ducati as it sits in the middle of the living room.
Witness also the "man as art" thing- which is to say, a man, Ricardo (Géza Kovács, who also crops up in Scanners and The Dead Zone, as well as having a recurring role on the Canadian cult TV favorite Orphan Black), in the artist's employ that is simply meant to sit around and be admired as a work of art himself! Sounds kind of like something Andy Warhol would get up to.
The artist also willfully encourages his wife to have an affair with a friend of one of the mechanics, while he watches on in admiration, even insisting that they carry on as a sort of "couple" after the relationship comes to its obvious conclusion, sex. Yep, needless to say, these are all some decidedly weird people all around. Like I said, both Cronenberg and Lynch fans alike will find much to love here.
Reportedly, the film was originally sixty minutes in length before the head of the CBC edited it down to its current, 27-minute length. I can only imagine what got cut out, but I'd love to see it. Maybe Cronenberg will allow it to come out uncut, the way he finally relented on his early work being released on DVD and Blu-Ray. Probably not, but one can dream. But if what I saw in this version is any indication, there's probably some wild stuff on that cutting room floor, to be sure.
The film stars Gary McKeehan as Lionel, with whom Cronenberg would go on to work with in both Rabid and The Brood. He's a real treat here, chewing up scenery like its going out of style and acting generally like a maniac throughout. If the real Lionel was even half as crazy as this one, I'm sure he was a real handful. I love the bit in the van where he nearly gets in a wreck while musing about going after the artist with lasers!
Likewise, the guy who plays the eccentric artist, Mouette, actor Louis Negin (also in Rabid, as well as the cult favorite, Pontypool), is a real piece of work, character-wise. Even before you actually meet him, you have an idea of what he will be, and Negin manages to surpass even those wild imaginings. Honestly, these two characters are worth the price of admission alone.
The rest of the cast is admittedly more subdued, but of course they are in comparison to the other two leads. It's like saying Brad Dourif and Jack Nance aren't quite as nutty as Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet. Well, duh. But they're still quite a cast of characters nonetheless, and even more impressive, manage to seem really lived in and real, in spite of the short running time.
The rest of the cast includes Frank Moore- who would go on to work with Cronenberg as one of the leads in Rabid and was also in Food of the Gods II, Blood & Donuts, Devil in Me and the recent Syfy series Killjoys- as Fred, Lionel's right-hand man, who points the guys in the direction of artist Mouette; Hardee Lineham (The Dead Zone, Storm of the Century, Survival of the Dead) as Bug, another of the gearheads; Chuck Shamata (The House by the Lake- bottom pic above, that's him on the right- Welcome to Blood City, Clown) as Reinhardt; and the aforementioned Cedric Smith as Luke, who was also in Cronenberg's Fast Company, another racing-vehicle-centric effort.
The first time I watched this short, it didn't quite have an effect on me, but this time around, I really loved it. I have a Japanese import DVD of this and The Lie Chair called David Cronenberg Shorts, the cover of which can be seen at the top of the article. Another version of it can be seen in the pics above. Both are still fairly readily available. I think the first time I watched it I liked The Lie Chair more, mostly because it was more horror-adjacent than The Italian Machine.
But now that I've become more acquainted with quirkier fare, like the work of David Lynch, Jim Jarmusch, Alejandro Jodorowsky and Quentin Tarantino and the like, I actually prefer the latter short more now. I think I just didn't get it the first time, but now, I totally do, and I just love it, and really do wish it was twice as long so I could spend more time with all the wacky characters at hand.
It's also features a very cool house, as seen above, and it's filled with wonderfully verbose and extremely quotable dialogue, so much so that I'm surprised that it isn't talked about more. I'm guessing it's because, until YouTube came along, it wasn't as readily available. I mean, like I said, I had to buy an Asian import bootleg DVD to see it myself back in the day.
My favorite line, spoken by Mouette (but of course), is the following: "In the electronic age, the machine becomes a work of art." Shoots back his wife, noting Ricardo, their live-in model: "And in the age of automation, human beings become works of art." Such Cronenbergian observations, and not too far removed from some of the ethos of his future work, notably Videodrome, with its talk of "The television screen is the retina of the mind's eye. Therefore, television is reality, and reality is less than television."
The Lie Chair is pretty skippable in retrospect- you can barely tell Cronenberg directed it, perhaps more so than anything else he's ever done. But The Italian Machine is definitely a keeper and an absolute must for Cronenberg fans, even if you're only a moderate fan that hasn't seen everything he's done. It's a lot of fun, eminently quotable and filled to the brim with bizarro scenarios and strange characters. You're definitely gonna want to check this one out, trust me. 🚴😎
Join me next time for the cult classic Rabid, one of the best of Cronenberg's early works, if not THE best. I'm looking forward to reviewing it for you all. Look for it sometime next week, hopefully, along with a round-up of what else I've been watching. See you then! 😁
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