Cronenberg's M. Butterfly is a masterpiece of intrigue. It is as if you have been thrown into China and have to find your way back home. Who would have expected that Cronenberg would muddle the minds of his audience to such proportions. A french aristocrat is seduced by a Chinese singer who sings a version of madame Butterfly that elevates our protagonist to the plateau of love. Decidedly, he follows her to her abode and is stately denied permission, for she is too shy and her culture is buried deep beneath the floor of the current time. 'The french have extolled the virtues of progressive societies to the point of apotheosis, from where they glance at the floor beneath them' the Chinese singer observes.
The French man falls for the Chinese woman, the man of heresy finds himself amazed at the shy and restrained love that the Chinese woman orchestrates. So blinded by the platonic love of madame butterfly, he unconsciously confesses the french and US army strategies to the Chinese woman, and the US loses in Vietnam.
He is sent back home, his wife ditches him. Now, the woman returns, only this time, he is arrested and prosecuted in the court of law. Now, the time for startling revelation. It was not a woman at all. It was a man. Madame butterfly was a man.
Jeremy irons is so convincing, as in all other Cronenberg movies. You almost think of the movie as a plausible and beautifully poignant tale. Jeremy Irons is irreplaceable; no cronenberg movie would be what it is today without Jeremy Irons. Cronenberg is the masterful visceral creator of art. His genre is purely seminal, never was there a director like him, and has not been since then or even in the present times. The fantastical transformation and transmogrification that cronenberg has created on celluloid can hardly be bettered. And, jeremy irons has just made it stick.
Comments