(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 Case of 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)
