A Dangerous Method (2011; David Cronenberg) is another
superlative film from this most singular of directors, one that tackles
subjects familiar to the filmmaker’s fans (mad doctors; body-horror; the
mind-body split; the body in rebellion; the pain in our heads that never goes
away; sexuality and repression; misdirected creativity; and so on), but
presented in a thoughtful and precise manner showing Cronenberg’s maturation as
an artist and human being.
Cronenberg’s still blowing up heads; just in a new,
more intellectually rigorous manner.
Set at the start of the twentieth century, this short
(only 99 minutes long) but incredibly dense film takes on a very heavy subject:
the birth of psychoanalysis.
Sabina Spielrein (Kiera Knightley, whom I’ve only seen
in the Disney Pirates flicks—I had no
idea she could act so well!)
has been shipped to the sanitarium, and there meets
young Dr. Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender, batting 1.000 with another seemingly
effortless perf).
He’s been looking for the right patient to try the new
“talking cure” that Dr. Freud has been writing about.
Eventually Jung’s work gets him noticed by the great
Freud, and the men begin a professional friendship.
At the same time, Jung has begun a probably unethical
affair with the disturbed Sabina, who is nearly as brilliant as both men.
Carl, Sigmund and Sabina wind up messing with—and
improving—each others’ minds (and theories), via top-notch performances backed
up by a literate script and Cronenberg’s easy but precise direction (not to
mention the perfect technical back-up they all receive).
As already mentioned, the film is a continuation of
Cronenberg’s fave themes: when Sabina describes a waking dream of a “mollusk
against my back,” she’s essentially describing a scene out of Shivers, Cronenberg’s first theatrical feature!
Fassbender’s Jung is almost a young Dr. Raglan from The Brood, and Viggo Mortensen’s Freud (who’s more of a wily desert
rat than a boring Germanic headshrinker) is a kinder version of Patrick
McGoohan in Scanners, just without
the super-pharmaceuticals. Nor should we forget the kinky doctor ménage a trios
from Dead Ringers…
Supremely intelligent people talking about the
profound, the mystical, the philosophical and the psychological is utterly
fascinating, and
Christopher Hampton’s script deserves to be proud of
itself—
although much of the film’s dialog comes directly from
Jung, Freud and Spielrein’s notes, diaries and letters: It’s more than 100
years later, and they still speak to
us!
While I’m not officially a Jungian, I guess you could
call me a Jung-o-phile: long story short, Jung’s universe of symbols and
archetypes thriving in the collective unconscious speaks more to me than Freud’s
more reductive theories about how everything psychological is solely centered
around genitalia.
(Wisely, the movie presents these contrasting arguments,
as well, but without choosing sides.)
That said, I don’t mind seeing young Carl Gustav Jung
portrayed as an ambitious, impatient and self-centered young man—and one who
refuses to see that his wife’s great wealth (and the bourgeois propriety—and hypocrisy—that
it demands) is as much a hindrance as a help.
No wonder the flick ends with Jung on the verge of a
nervous breakdown!
The Jung of A
Dangerous Method is certainly not the jolly, mystical grandpa-figure with
the twinkle in his eye that I studied!
Which is fine: It is my belief that the only
successful biopics are the ones that choose to illustrate the five to ten “most
important” years of that person’s life—this list includes Patton, Ed Wood, and Lawrence of Arabia;
these flicks don’t pull the tiresome “cradle to grave”
presentation that takes every moment of a person’s life and flattens it out into
a dull roar—where the viewer has nothing more than a list, a catalog of events,
usually boring since everything has been given equal importance.
What successful biopics do is create the world where
our protagonist’s true purpose can be seen either in action or development;
where their past and future are observable in their actions in the “now” of the
film. Watching A Dangerous Method, I
could see the mistakes (and triumphs) that would lead to the creation of the
great teacher, scientist and researcher we know Jung becomes.
Films that plug into my interests in a specific and intelligent
manner are so damn difficult to find that I embrace A Dangerous Method with both arms and squeeze tightly.
However, I do wish that they had stuck with the title
of the source book “A Most Dangerous Method”—that title has an air of distinction
and place that the shorter, more generic genuine title of the film does not, in
my opinion.
That’s a minor quibble, though, for such a
thought-provoking, intellectually stimulating masterwork.
Since 1981’s Scanners,
I’ve watched most of David Cronenberg’s films on either their initial theatrical
or DVD release, and
I love that while I’ve been maturing, so has
Cronenberg’s work, and that we’ve sort-of been keeping pace. Maybe even
growing up together…
Thanks Uncle Dave!
(Now I really have to finally finish reading Carl Jung’s Man
& His Symbols…)
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