Rabid – Breathing New Life Into An Old Classic
In a clear reference to David Cronenburg’s original Rabid film from 1977, Rabid begins with a lingering shot of an attractive blonde, sitting atop a motorbike and clutching a white helmet. If you were in any doubt of where the new film was going to pitch itself, it answers the question for you in shot one – an attentive and affectionate homage to a beloved classic. Are The Soska Sisters second guessing themselves in their decision to remake a classic – or perhaps justifying themselves to the audience? – when our heroines’ entrance in the following scenes is accompanied by a voice over: “Why do we keep remaking old trends? How are we breathing new life into the old? Are we adding something new?” Either way, this sets the tone for the film and it’s evident from the outset: Rabid intends to be self-aware, to reference its heritage, whilst being clear in its intent to bring a lot more to the party. It’s not a remake, so that means you’ll be spared the old high school ‘compare and contrast’ essay from me. It’s ‘inspired by’ – what are the kids calling it these days, a ‘re-imagining?’
The new Rabid swaps out the tumultuous political context of the 70’s original and uses its own topical setting – the vacuous, competitive, back-stabbing world of fashion. There’s no doubt that it’s a fitting backdrop for a body horror and has more opportunities for metaphor than you can shake a designer stick at. The Soska Sisters revel in that. And they make sure to really drive the point home – the label at which our heroine, Rose, works is in the process of launching a new collection: Schadenfreude (the pleasure derived by someone from another’s misfortune). Rose’s eccentric boss talks with relish as he explains the concept behind the collection, that inside all of us there’s a part we don’t want to show, a dark passenger… little does he know that’s soon to be the understatement of the century for Rose.
Model on the catwalk- Armpit Vagina just out of shot!
Rose is timid, bullied at work and doesn’t fit in amongst the uber attractive, super chic, but pretentious fawning fashion groupies. She doesn’t like hurting anything, eats organic veg and herbal supplements and can’t get noticed – by her dream guy, or even a bouncer at the after party for her own label. She’s so invisible that her best friend Chelsea asks the resident Lothario to take Rose on a date, a little confidence boost and maybe a (pity) shag will do her the world of good. Unfortunately, it backfires when Rose overhears a couple of coke-snorting models (in a cameo by The Soska Sisters themselves) in the next toilet cubicle, laughing about her and the embarrassing set-up. Enraged, Rose storms out of the party and tries to flee on her motorbike but is quickly involved in a horrific smash. The original movie shies away from injury gore and keeps Rose’s injuries to ‘internal’ (I’m sure they didn’t want to spoil the ‘visual appeal’ of one of the main reasons people were paying to watch, porn star Marilyn Chambers.) But this movie doubles down. I won’t spoil the delightful surprise, but the injuries made me wince. It’s OK though, because Chelsea reassuringly tells Rose that her boss didn’t charge her for the ruined designer dress she’d borrowed… she is fired though. How will Rose pay her medical bills, and keep herself in organic baby food? Cue a fortuitous invitation from a mysterious clinic, containing a video about the strange concept of trans-humanism, and with an offer too good to refuse. The sinister Dr Burroughs offers Rose a revolutionary, state-of-the-art regenerative treatment and a lifetime of after care, all for free – so what’s the catch, right?!
When Rose awakens from her surgery (where Dr Burroughs seemingly inserted angry gel cushion insoles inside of her), she’s as good as new: in fact, she’s better. She’s also benefited from a She’s all That makeover, where removing her glasses and getting a new shirt seems to have miraculously transformed her into a super-babe. She gets re-hired at her old job and all of a sudden, her arsehole boss is her biggest fan, because her own Schadenfreude designs – painted in shocks of black and red and featuring wild women with additional appendages – are works of art. But why can’t Rose eat even a crumb of normal food? Why does she keep having these terrifying hallucinations, followed by complete blackouts? Exactly what’s in those specially formulated shakes and supplements? And just WHAT is the deal with her really aggressively rumbly tum??! The development of the Schadenfreude collection is the perfect backdrop for Rose’s transformation as we see the previously softly spoken and salad-loving girl next door change into a confident, steak-licking sex bomb. The film gathers pace towards the end, starting to incorporate more of the zombie infection element of the original, and we finally see Rose’s crowning glory – both her final dress design and her wildly thrusting, blood-thirsty member – at the catwalk of carnage.
Jen and Sylvia Soska have added a fresh take on Cronenburg’s classic from 1977
The film progresses steadily (arguably better than the original) and with increased visceral energy, as it sees Rose change and attempt to uncover the reality of what was done to her in the Burroughs clinic. It focuses on the elements of humanity, in contrast to Rose’s increasing monstrosity, whilst also highlighting how many of our supposedly admirable human characteristics – ruthless ambition, wanton passion, pride and vanity – are animalistic in themselves. For me, this thoughtful theme really gives the film depth and ultimately makes it a more satisfying narrative than its predecessor. It’s also much more of a woman’s story – the original was as much a sexploitation film than it was a horror, with a prominent porn star in the lead role, who spends the entire film either topless or draped in a fur coat (and we all know what they say about girls who wear those, right?!) Most of the killings resemble dry humps and see Rose hug the bodies afterwards, whilst basking in the orgasmic glow of their death. And the less said about the armpit vagina the better.
But the act of killing is no longer a directly sexual pleasure for our modern Rose, or an act of revenge against men who have pursued or abused her. They aren’t even really wilful murders; they happen in blackouts and hallucinations. Some people might say that’s a Hollywood sell-out, that it helps us to continue to love and identify with Rose if she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing. How can we root for a blood-thirsty murderer? But I prefer to think of it as a more sophisticated approach: it allows The Soska Sisters to play with themes and metaphors and add more value to the story. Obviously she needs the blood, but Rose’s murders are a result of more than her ungodly thirst – they reflect her subconscious desire for survival, confidence, success, to be in control and sexual on her terms: her own Schadenfreude.
I thoroughly enjoyed Rabid – there are lots of admirable details, plenty of references for eagle eyed film fans to spot (which I had to stop myself from obsessively detailing here), and I genuinely felt it was a thoughtful and nuanced interpretation of the original, adding in modern cultural ideas and updating the key themes. Maybe any old film goer watching Rabid might mistake it for a run of the mill gory shock-horror and not read it as I do. But the film says it itself right at the beginning – “Do we cater to the masses? Or, do we create art – only for the few who dare experience it?”
Rabid is available now on Blu-Ray, DVD and also VOD
