Doppelgängers

The Double

Dead Ringers

In the month of October (and beyond it tbh) we explored all manner of frightening scenarios in cinema. Though physical terror like gore and body horror and abject grotesqueness can certainly be scary, no such horror terrifies this critic more than psychological thrillers. The human mind is simultaneously the most powerful and most vulnerable part of our bodies, and within the realm of film, every freaky, forward-thinking possibility that the brain can conjure up can be physically manifested. Perhaps one of the most disorienting and horrifying concepts to ever be projected onto the silver screen is the concept of the doppelgänger: a being (typically living) that is identical to you. This is an idea that, to me at least, is scary all on its own. These copies/twins/doubles can represent many things from within our own psyches/dreams/thoughts, they can be harbingers of bad luck, but at the most basic level, doppelgängers are reflections of the self. What exists in the deepest, darkest recesses of our individual minds holds the potential for plenty of fear, but when that same consciousness is doubled? It can never end well. There’s something, vaguely uncanny valley-esque that occurs when we see someone who looks like us, and according to the movies, the result is often troubling. Many films have explored this concept of duality, the best of which (in my opinion obvi) are The Prestige, Moon, and most recently, Jordan Peele’s Us. In every imagining of double-hood, if you will, one always does better than the other. One twin feeds off of the other and one is undoubtedly evil, typically representing the worst, most malicious part of the other. Both of tonight’s films played with some of the most terrifying possibilities pertaining to doppelgängers — divulging in both physical and psychological horror, and aiming to confuse, distract, and disturb. Watching both of these films felt like solving two puzzles at once but much like Doublemint gum, they both doubled the pleasure and they doubled the fun. Richard Ayoade’s 2013 dark comedic thriller The Double is a hidden gem that had been collecting dust on my watchlist and was begging to be seen. In the vein of a Terry Gilliam the-past-meets-the-bleak-future nightmare, The Double transports us to a non-descript, dreary office where nerd actor extraordinaire Jesse Eisenberg works alongside period-piece princess Mia Wasikowska. Simon James (Eisenberg) is a meek, non-confrontational mouse of a man who is all but invisible. Despite working at his job for seven years he is forgotten, and except for the woman he pines after (stalks) Mia Wasikowska, he goes through his life uncomfortably unnoticed. Speaking as someone who has been sat on not once but twice due to my own invisibility, I deeply empathized with Simon and his frustrating efforts to be seen. The issue is, as life and my therapist will teach you, being seen can be a burden all on its own. As if the landscape of a rainy, lonely city and a grimy, depressing office weren’t disorienting enough, one day, much to Simon’s surprise, an exact replica of himself named James Simon begins working in his office. James is everything Simon isn't: outgoing, confident, self-aggrandizing, and far more charming and effectual to everyone around him. He never experiences any bad luck and every bit of attention he receives is positive, unlike Simon, who seemingly only becomes visible at a cost. Despite being unnerved and anxious about this double, Simon agrees to be James’ friend and in turn is mentored by James — switching in and out of each other’s lives when it is convenient or necessary. The entire film has a sheen of somberness over it, but its sense of humor and wacky surrealism led the story in unpredictable directions that I absolutely loved. There are some cameos from some very beloved actors and any fan of the television show The IT Crowd will clearly hear Richard Ayoade’s unique voice straight from Jesse Eisenberg’s mouth. There’s echoes of Brazil, the Twilight Zone, and Rear Window in The Double, without squandering its own utter uniqueness. It deals with issues pertinent to any generation like isolation and the mundanity of human life, while delving into some of the biggest existential and psychological fears one can have. This film goes way beyond the question of “do I matter?” and instead asks “do I even exist?” It’s substantially heavy without feeling so, completely philosophical without dwelling within arcane territory. The score is excellent, the styling is unexpectedly fun, and I say this with SO much love but Jesse Eiesenberg showcases the full spectrum of his range: from quiet awkward nerd to cocky asshole nerd with effortless brilliance. Speaking of asshole nerds, let’s move on to Dead Ringers: yet another manifestation of David Cronenberg’s perviest, most twisted thoughts — which we celebrate here at Double Feature Thursday. Starring not one but two Jeremy Irons’ and some significantly creepy opening credits art, Dead Ringers is a deeply disturbing look into the human consciousness and human morality — or perhaps, the lack of it. Jeremy Irons² plays creepy-ass genius twins who grow up to be renowned gynecologists and full-fledged psychos who engage in some seriously freaky, downright Freudian escapades. Essentially, the cockier and more outspoken of the twins Elliot, will charm their female patients into bed, and when he’s had his fill, passes said women onto his younger, less-than-confident twin brother Beverly. As if this premise weren’t fucked up enough, Cronenberg makes use of some lofty psychological concepts and some pretty horrifying gynecological tools, but not in the ways you might expect. The costume design was exquisite and Jeremy Irons gives a truly stunning performance — making clear and concise decisions theatrically that set each brother apart. The twins Elliot and Beverly are based off of a real set of twin gynecologists named Stewart and Cyril Marcus, who both died together, quite mysteriously. It’s of no surprise to me that Cronenberg, the horny and horror-obsessed king of film, took this true story and just let his mind run wild with demented possibilities. Maybe it’s because I’m a woman, maybe it’s because psychological terror really gets to me, but of all of his films, I’d venture to say that Dead Ringers is the most disturbing and difficult to watch — and I’ve seen Videodrome. In this Cronenberg film, his trademark body horror and graphic gore is extremely limited, and yet it was much harder to stomach. I almost couldn’t even focus on the messaging surrounding autonomy, vanity, codependence, and sexual paranoia, because I was so disgusted by the plot. I say all of this, of course, with love, because for whatever reason I live for freaky shit in film that pushes me out of my comfort zone. I welcome the shock, awe, and depravity of a Cronenberg film because to me, he does it right. I’ve seen too many soulless films that boast their own brands of surrealism, that really only seem to exist just to shock and make you go “huh”, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, those kinds of films just aren’t for me, David Lynch. If you’re gonna take me on a wild, disturbing journey, you’d better be at least somewhat attached to reality, and you’d better give me a satisfying ending. Both The Double and Dead Ringers did all of this, and more, as each viewing was solidly creepy, significantly dizzying, and gave me a double dose of the flavor of bizarre that I love.