(1988) Directed by David Cronenberg; Written by David
Cronenberg and Norman Snider; Based on the novel, Twins, by Bari Wood
and Jack Geasland; Starring: Jeremy Irons, Geneviève Bujold, Heidi von Palleske,
Barbara Gordon and Stephen Lack; Available on Blu-ray and DVD
Rating: ****
“When was the last time a gynaecologist was in a movie, even as a figure of fun? There’s something taboo there, something strange and difficult. A lot of people say, ‘I suppose women find this movie much harder to take.’ The answer is, ‘Not really.’ For a lot of women, the opening scene of gynaecological examination is no big deal. Later on, when it gets weird, of course it’s uncomfortable. But, for a lot of men, that very first scene is the worst. They’ve never been there; they’ve never seen it; they don’t want to think about it.” – David Cronenberg (excerpted from his book, Cronenberg on Cronenberg)
Twins (especially identical twins) share an uncanny bond that few of us non-twins can fully comprehend. To the outside observer, their relationship seems almost supernatural, including thinking the same thoughts to sharing similar tastes or sensations. Considering David Cronenberg’s predilection toward themes of duality, it’s easy to see why a film featuring twins as the primary characters would be an appealing subject. Dead Ringers is not as readily classifiable as some of his earlier films, neither horror nor science fiction, but adjacent to both. The film was inspired by the real-life story of Cyril and Stewart Marcus, twin gynecologists*/** who were discovered dead in Cyril’s New York City apartment in 1975. Their real-life tragedy, in turn, inspired Bari Wood and Jack Geasland’s fictional account, Twins. For his rewrite of the script, Cronenberg was strongly influenced by the real Marcus twins, as well as the 1976 Esquire article “Dead Ringers,” about their strange and morbid tale. Getting the film made was a 10-year uphill battle with Cronenberg facing squeamish executives who were on board with the idea of twins, but protesting, “Why do they have to be gynecologists?” Considering Cronenberg’s inherent fascination with permutations of the flesh and sexual politics, depicting his twins in some other random occupation was out of the question.
* Fun Fact #1: Although Cyril and Stewart were twins, unlike
their fictional counterparts in the film, they were not identical. Because they
looked very similar and dressed alike, the misconception was perpetuated. This
carried over to their practice, in which one would sometimes pretend to be the
other to fool patients.
The opening scene depicts young Elliot and Beverly Mantle trying to recruit a neighbor girl for their “experiment” in reproduction (their proposal goes over about as well as you would expect). The scene establishes their attitude on the otherness of female anatomy and their clinical approach to something that is more than a simple biological function. Flash forward to the twins in medical school, when much to the chagrin of their professor, the twins are using a medical instrument created by Beverly (which would later become the so-called “Mantle Retractor”)* to examine a cadaver (their instructor comments that it would never work on a living patient). The story moves to the present day, in which Elliot and Beverly share a thriving practice, as well as an apartment. Their tendency to share carries over to sexual partners, which backfires when a patient, Claire Niveau (Geneviève Bujold),** enters their lives (Beverly is especially drawn to her when he discovers that she possesses a rare anatomical abnormality). When she becomes wise to their deception, it unleashes a chain of events that contribute to their downfall. While Beverly slips into a self-destructive spiral of prescription drugs and paranoid delusions, Elliot isn’t too far behind.
* Fun Fact #2: The Mantle Retractor is based on a real gynecological instrument invented in Toronto, Canada by Dr. Donald Balfour (the “Balfour Retractor”).
** You can bet that Cronenberg will invariably have one of
his characters make an off-the-wall proclamation, and Dead Ringers
doesn’t disappoint, when Beverly muses that instead of the usual beauty
pageants that focus on the outside, there should be a pageant for beautiful
insides (“Best Spleen,” anyone?).
To help create the illusion that Irons was two separate individuals,* Cronenberg and crew went beyond traditional split-screen effects. Film Effects of Toronto employed an “invisible traveling soft split-screen,” which allowed Irons to move around the frame, with no visible split. The crew also employed a motion-control camera for some scenes, so Irons could act out a scene as one twin and retrace his steps as the second twin.
* Fun Fact #3: There are approximately 14 shots where the
twins appear together.
The greatest special effect in the film, however, lies in Jeremy Irons’ masterful, nuanced performance, as Elliot and Beverly Mantle. Irons achieves nearly the impossible, convincing us there are two separate, flesh-and-blood individuals. Irons doesn’t fall on the familiar good/evil tropes for his depiction of the twins. The differences are more subtle, but they’re there. Elliot, the dominant twin, is outgoing and forthright, whereas Beverly is shy, introspective, and emotionally sensitive. Elliot loves to clamor for attention, teaching and promoting his profession, while Beverly prefers to stay out of the limelight, content to work in the research aspect. Despite their differences, they have more aspects in common, suggesting a symbiotic relationship. They are bound to one another to the point, when push comes to shove, the fear of separation is palpable. Beverly illustrates their unique connection when he discusses the strange case of so-called “Siamese twins” Chang and Eng with his brother (when one died, the other subsequently died from fright over the loss of his sibling).
A rift between the twins develops when Beverly becomes emotionally entangled with Claire. Compared to the twins’ warped attitude on relationships, Claire brings a well-grounded perspective. Her reaction to being passed around by the two brothers without her consent or knowledge, like community property, is a horrifying proposition. When she calls them on their subterfuge, she uncovers (perhaps for the first time) how dysfunctional their behavior has been. Unlike most people that encounter the Mantles, she can discern between the two, and her preference for Beverly is clear.
Beverly’s deteriorating mental state is most disturbingly illustrated in a scene when he tries using his retractor on one of his regular patients. As established in an earlier scene she trusts him implicitly, which only makes his betrayal of that trust more painful. Her resulting discomfort is ignored by Beverly, who argues there’s nothing wrong with his instrument, effectively shutting her down. When he silences her objections, it lays bare the blind trust many patients have with their doctors, but most telling is the skewed power dynamic between the male doctor and female patient. When questioned by his brother, Beverly responds, “The woman’s body was all wrong.” Instead of ruminating on his trespasses, the incident only prompts him to commission a metal-working artist (Stephen Lack) to create stainless steel instruments of his own design, for “operating on mutant women”
David Cronenberg infuses a level of unreality into Dead Ringers, revealing the Mantles’ twisted world. One of the most striking visual embellishments are the crimson surgical garments by costume designer Denise Cronenberg. Rather than being neutral or calming, they invoke quite the opposite effect. The colorful yet unsettling surgical gowns contrast sharply with the Mantles’ apartment, with its sterile, slate-gray walls and spartan furnishings. Another example is the nightmare sequence: we focus on Claire until the camera pans over to reveal she’s in bed with Elliot and Beverly, who are joined by a pulsing conduit of flesh. But perhaps Cronenberg’s icing on this fetid cake are Beverly’s instruments (based on designs by Cronenberg, of course), which resemble alien torture devices (You don’t have to be a gynecologist to understand these were never intended for human beings). Frequent Cronenberg collaborator Howard Shore’s melancholic score is another key component in Dead Ringers, matching the intensity and sadness of the tale at hand.
* Fun Fact: Cronenberg had filmed a second nightmare
sequence, featuring a scrawny, parasitic Elliot emerging from Beverly. He
decided to cut the scene after test screenings, because he felt it took the
audience out of the film.
Duality is a theme that David Cronenberg has returned to repeatedly,
not because he likes to beat his audience over the head with a tired old theme,
but because he has so much to say about it. From Shivers to A History
of Violence, the idea of dual lives is a common thread throughout
Cronenberg’s filmography, and Dead Ringers is among his most cohesive works. It’s
a compelling character study of a complicated and ultimately self-destructive relationship,
made credible by Jeremy Irons’ never-less-than engaging double performance.
Sources for this article: Shout Factory Blu-ray commentary by William Beard; Cronenberg on Cronenberg, by David Cronenberg; David Cronenberg: Interviews, Edited by David Schwartz; “Dead Ringers: A Bizarre Caseof the Death of Twins,” by Ron Rosenbaum and Susan Edmiston, Esquire (March 1, 1976); “Visuals for Dead Ringers Inspire Belief,” by Nora Lee, American Cinematographer (December 1988); “Our Surgical Heritage: The Legends of Exposure,” by Rao R. Ivatury, Panamerican Journal of Trauma, Critical Care and Emergency Surgery (2021, Volume 10, Issue 1)
