‘Infinity Pool’ Director Brandon Cronenberg Talks Violence and Self Destruction
Kaiya Shunyata
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Making his feature film debut with Antiviral in 2010, Brandon Cronenberg’s work had many people asking “What’s in a name?” Almost a decade of silence ended with his sophomore film Possessor, a story that dissects the link between human violence and the body. With Cronenberg’s newest film Infinity Pool, it’s clear his vision of what he wants to achieve as a filmmaker is more fleshed out, with the film housing another neon-soaked story about the body, violence, and human self-destruction.
Infinity Pool begins with James and his wife Em taking a trip to an unknown resort for James to not only get some inspiration for his newest novel, but to also mend his seemingly strained relationship with his wife. There, James meets Gabi and Alban, a wealthy couple who venture to the resort, and surrounding off-limits island, frequently. As layers are peeled back, it becomes clear that the couple isn’t who, or what they seem, causing James’ existence to become intertwined with their lavish life and twisted games. Thus, a sickness that’s been boiling on the resort property begins to fester onto the rest of the island, and within James himself.
Dreaed Central sat down with Cronenberg to learn more about where the film came from, Cronenberg’s connection to James’s character, and more.
DC: There’s been an influx of films discussing wealth and class lately, what inspired you to go that route with Infinity Pool?
Brandon Cronenberg: To be honest the initial genesis of the film was a short story that I was working on that was just the first execution scene. It didn’t have those themes when I was starting. I was more interested in identity and punishment in this one-contained scene.
As I started expanding it into a feature, [a resort] seemed like the ideal setting in a way because it’s really about people operating without the constraints of consequences and the ways that [this causes them to] mutate psychologically. From there, [it made sense because] resorts are a primal and maybe sinister and grotesque environment for that kind of thing.
In terms of the wave of “resort satire” or “wealthy tourism” satire that’s coming out I had no idea that this was gonna happen of course, because filmmaking happens at this incredibly glacial pace. I started doing initial writing for this back as far as 2014 and it was quite a few years to get it financed and cast. I wrote the script before we shot Possessor.
DC: So it’s just great timing then.
BC: [Laughs] Very lucky timing!
DC: It also felt like this film, to me at least, and James as a character are grappling with guilt and grief. What prompted those ideas?
BC: I mean, James in some ways…although he’s not a stand-in for me, there was a certain degree of self-mockery in terms of [him] as a character. Again, I wrote this in between my first and second films. There was an eight-year gap because I wasn’t able to get financing and casting together. Somewhere in that near-decade of sitting in a little room trying to make something happen, I was definitely dealing with a lot of artist insecurity and self-loathing and the best way to process that for me was through humor and making fun of myself in the script that I was writing.
But, [James] also…I suppose related to that experience is a character who is aging and is clinging to a version of himself that he is not. This invented version of himself, this invented future [he imagines] for himself. It’s clear to those around him that this is something that he should probably let go of and that leaves him vulnerable because of his vanity.
DC: James’ journey is directly linked to violence like Vos’ was in Possessor. Is the transformation not complete for him because of his unwillingness to physically harm his double?
BC: It’s a transformation in progress, because he ultimately is willing to engage in violence. There’s a kind of stripping himself away and it’s almost a sort of weird regression therapy that he engages in with Gabi.
But, I think for me, part of it is the fact that we’re all animals, and there’s this potential for animal violence because of that fact. You know, you see throughout history very ordinary people doing very horrible things and they’re permitted to when this kind of social structure that we often take for granted is stripped away.
DC: Like Possessor’s face-melting scene, the masks in Infinity Pool are especially striking. What did they represent to you?
The masks were designed by Richard Raaphorst who is a fantastic filmmaker, comic artist, and concept artist. I knew [the masks] were going to be central images in the film so I brought Richard on because he had this great aesthetic that I knew would work for the creation of a unique and totally fictional culture.
I don’t want to overinterpret the film for people because I like letting people explore, but certainly part of it is this duality of characters. This “other” self that they’re generating and engaging in while they’re on vacation. Their tolkien selves versus their conventional selves.
DC: Your first film Antiviral had a very stark and gloomy visual presence, but your last two films are soaked in color. I know there was a long period of time between them, but I’m wondering why the switch?
BC: Yeah, I was in a very different spot creatively and…honestly, I was maybe watching too many Romanian new-wave films when I made Antiviral.
DC: [Laughs]
BC: Maybe there was something about that starkness that was really appealing to me and then you know…it was nearly a decade of changing my mind I guess and getting excited about different techniques and landing somewhere else.
DC: This and your previous film Possessor wrestle with the ideas of doppelgangers or inhabiting a body that doesn’t quite feel like your own. What’s the inspiration behind this, or rather what draws you to these ideas?
BC: I suppose I’m interested in what makes a person a person, and I think so much of art is really about exploring that question from different angles.
For me, it’s maybe more specifically what a self is and what it means to be someone. In this film in particular [it’s] what it means to be a continuous unique entity, or to feel like you are a continuous unique entity when, in my opinion, that’s kind of an illusion – a trick of the brain. It’s a sensation that we have rather than a reality. I don’t believe we have some essential soul that just makes us, us.
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