Series of Intertexts

At the heart of this book lies the belief that—while basing many of his films on the work of others (J.G. Ballard, William Burroughs)—David Cronenberg has always been interested in doing far more than just adapting them. Rather he uses the source texts as a basis for new work, borrowing from other authors such as Vladimir Nabokov, Marshall McLuhan, Jean-Paul Sartre and the Marquis de Sade. Browning's book confirms, in exhaustive detail, the notion that an adaptation comprises a series of intertexts rather than remaining 'faithful' to one specific literary source.

The book begins with a lengthy introduction, drawing on a variety of authorities ranging from Lacan to Foucault and particularly Gérard Genette, in an attempt to rethink the relationship between a written text and a film adaptation. Browning uses the term 'transtextuality,' which can be roughly translated as "all that which puts one text in relation, whether manifest or secret, with other texts." This term encompasses 'metatextuality,' 'intertextuality,' 'paratextuality,' 'architextuality,' and 'hypertextuality.' All of these notions are important in understanding Cronenberg's oeuvre, that established "a visual aesthetic which approaches the screen as a kind of palimpsest, a flat surface upon which impressions can be made and remade; a surface that has an element of depth but cannot be pierced" (32). The observation is a suggestive one, providing a good starting-point for understanding the adaptive process.

Having set forth his theoretical model, Browning goes on to analyse in exhaustive detail some of the works that shaped Cronenberg's best-known films. He first looks at Videodrome (1982), which incorporates literary expressions of masochism, a Foucauldian approach to spectacle and a re-thinking of notions of the body. Clive Barker's Books of Blood (1984-6) provides a useful point of comparison here. Dead Ringers (1988) owes a considerable debt to Bari Wood and Jack Gealand's 1997 novel Twins (1977), but resembles other texts featuring doubles such as Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale (1987), or Bruce Chatwin's On the Black Hill (1981). Cronenberg's Naked Lunch (1991) appropriates a wide range of Burroughsian themes, motifs and images, while Crash (1996) not only draws on the novel of the same name, but a wide range of other Ballard texts, especially The Atrocity Exhibition (1969). Cronenberg's Crash also recalls Nabokov's Lolita in its dramatisation of the perpetual present. eXistenZ (1999) draws on Sartrean existentialism, blended with numerous stylistic features appropriated from Nabokov, especially a predilection for game-playing. Spider (2003), based on Patrick McGrath's novel of the same name, incorporates echoes of Ian McEwan's 1987 work The Child in Time.

Browning's analyses are nothing if not detailed, revealing a genuine enthusiasm for Cronenberg's work. His choice of films is nothing if not selective (why did he omit M.Butterfly (1993), from the Broadway play by David Henry Hwang, a particularly interesting choice of subject for the director?) Sometimes the book has a slightly New Critical feel to it, as the author engages in a relentless search for sources that might enable readers to understand the director's work more fully. Nonetheless it provides a comprehensive introduction to Cronenberg's principal thematic concerns, as well as his fondness for adapting literary texts. I only have one cavil—perhaps an index might have given greater opportunity for readers to navigate the book more easily.