“All of my movies on one level or another deal with the ways in which we use technology to modify our environment, so that we have warmth when it’s cold, light when it’s dark, etcetera. Once that’s secured, the next thing we do is modify ourselves [ . . . . .] It’s innate for humans to not be satisfied with the world as it is delivered, and we have [ . . . ] done everything we can to mess around with that.” –David Cronenberg

. . . and, as such, what humanity is ultimately faced with is horror on an epic level, which is exquisitely represented in the Canadian director’s second film, Rabid, a socially astute, if not visionary, feature which challenges contemporary notions of sexuality, disease, the use and implementation of technology via medicine, and the consequences of female subversion throughout history.

After a motorcycle accident, Rose (Marilyn Chambers) undergoes emergency, experimental surgery. Unfortunately, her body rejects the “morphogenetically neutral” grafts implanted by Dan Keloid (Howard Ryshpan) and, as a consequence, she develops a strange growth under her arm which she uses to appease her newfound bloodlust. The problem becomes further exacerbated in that her victims reemerge as zombies which then filter into the populace of Montreal.

An almost consummate theme within his works, Cronenberg continues his motif of rabid sexuality from Shivers while introducing other ideas which he would later perpetuate and expound upon, namely an apprehension of medicine as well as technology. However, in growing as a filmmaker, Cronenberg’s productions likewise gain in scope as well, as symbolized in the manner in which a plague is confined to an apartment complex in his debut feature before it swells into a city-wide epidemic in Rabid.

By convoluting the vampire archetype, the director’s metaphorical import includes, not only the traditional symbolism of society feeding off it itself (complimented by the theme of rape), but drug addition in the guise of a literal frothing disease–accelerated, aggressive hydrophobia. Masterfully, Cronenberg, at Ivan Reitman’s behest, casts a former pornographic actress, Marilyn Chambers who, much like her director, broke new ground after setting numerous precedents in her field. By having an icon of sexuality as the cause of societal mayhem, the Canadian auteur further compounds his narrative as his titular disease becomes symptomatic of society’s obsession with sex in its various forms.

Cronenberg helped to reestablish vampirism as being representative of fear of contamination and, alongside the sexual allure of said undead, aided in exacting such to be an anxiety in respect to sexually transmitted disease, especially in the film’s prophetic presentation (alongside stem cell research in the form of “morphogenetically neutral tissue” and the little known field of plastic surgery) of the upcoming AIDS epidemic which, again, adds to Cronenberg’s casting choice (which is not to imply that the actress harbors the illness, but rather signifies the fear of the consequences of promiscuous sexuality). Moreover, the filmmaker isn’t content in merely aligning most every innuendo which comes with his antagonist for he incorporates such in order to examine, critique, and wryly comment upon contemporary society.

After our central character becomes a huntress, both in action as well as more subtly as she stalks her primarily male victims after donning a fur coat, the whole of Montreal panics in the wake of a steadfast female assured of her sexual prowess. Satirically, Cronenberg has the city react by declaring martial law alongside issuing a “Shoot on Sight” edict before it collects itself to more properly form sanitation crews which lethargically travel throughout the metropolitan region leisurely executing the infected, politely rectifying any unwanted bloodshed in much the same manner as a weekend car wash, all before disposing of the bodies via trash truck.

Cronenberg’s cutting examination of society in the throes of a stalwart female (disconcertingly, yet comically, signaled by Rose’s vagina-like malformation from which a phallic spike emerges), albeit one who is an inculpable killer (for she never asked to be made a murderous monstrosity)–one can almost feel the feminists cringing due to not being able to have their cake and eat it too–continues as the former porn star’s victims orgasmically convulse after her initial feeding as she caresses them in post-coital fashion. This says nothing of the eyebrow-lifting insinuation made when, in the wake of human prey, Rose approaches a heifer. However, such cinematic sarcasm should come as no surprise given the underhanded, yet nonetheless witty, portrayal of bisexual (female, no less) rape (an irony after the erroneous notion is offered early in the film that the molester had been the molested) after Rose confronts an unfortunate, bikini-clad hot tub user.

Yet, though all of Cronenberg’s humor is incorporated so as to critique social mores, standards, and ideals, he does pause on occasion to offer the ironic in-joke to cognizant audience members. At one point during the feature, Rose enters a porn theater in an attempt to allocate yet another victim. The film being show is titled “Eve,” the most famed femme fatale in all of Western history, which not only serves as a literary ruse but as a tongue-in-cheek reference to the porn actress whom starred four years prior in Resurrection of Eve, a hardcore film in which a woman undergoes radical surgery only to reemerge to find her wonton sexuality having blossomed. Cleverly, as Eve plays offscreen, its soundtrack is synchronized to the onscreen seduction of a naïve, yet horny, young male under the spell of Marilyn Chamber’s character.

While simultaneously issuing his audience a scathing criticism of society and its values amid casting pitch-black tale of Swiftian proportions with Rabid, David Cronenberg signals he is a spawning auteur whose vision will soon become a force to be reckoned with. That said, how many directors, past or present, could successfully accomplish such using a notorious porn actress as his or her central character?

-Egregious Gurnow