Infinity Pool

Director: Brandon Cronenberg
Starring: Alexander Skarsgård, Mia Goth, Cleopatra Coleman, Jalil Lespert, Amanda Brugel, John Ralston, Jeffrey Ricketts, Caroline Boulton, Thomas Kretschmann
Running Time: 118 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Following Mia Goth's bizarrely brilliant turns in X and Pearl, many wondered what would be next for one of the most compulsively watchable actresses working today. Of course, we always knew it would be something unhinged and off-the-wall, making Brandon Cronenberg's disturbing Infinity Pool the ideal follow-up for her. Goth may be the best reason to see it, but there are others, as this stylistically made, psychedelic journey into human depravity begins normally enough to hide the fact it comes from the mind behind 2020's twisted, even more ambitious Possessor. 

With a reach often extending its grasp, what starts as a psychological thriller flies off the rails in mixing body horror with social satire, exploring original ideas that wouldn't seem out of place in a season of Black Mirror. Skewering the wealthy on screen has become increasingly derivative of late, but a high concept sets this apart, successfully overcoming its sometimes uneven execution. Almost equal parts awful and exhilarating, this isn't an easy one to take.  

Novelist James Foster (Alexander Skarsgård) and his wife Em (Cleopatra Coleman) are vacationing in the fictional seaside country of Li Tolqa as he seeks inspiration for his next novel. At the resort, Gabi (Goth), an admitted fan of James' work invites him and Em to dinner with her husband Alban (Jalil Lespert). After hitting it off, the four spend the next day driving in the country side when James accidentally runs over and kills a local. Gabi warns it's too dangerous to call the corrupt police department, only for James to later be apprehended and interrogated by Detective Thresh (Thomas Kretschmann).

Death is the punishment for James' offense, but this country has a unique method for dealing with criminals, enabling the perpetrator to walk away while the government lines its pockets. It turns out he'll have to witness an execution where he'll see his duplicate murdered instead. Released but hardly free, a traumatized James soon finds himself part of a club consisting of criminal tourists who shared the same experience. Indoctrinated by the mysterious, seductive Gabi, he'll soon fall into a dark world of orgies, hallucinogenics and violence from which there's no return.

Its setup distracts viewers into thinking this will be some sort of erotic drama, with an early emphasis on the strain in James and Em's unbalanced relationship. That she comes from money and her father's literary connections enabled him to get his flop of a novel published is a particular bone of contention. Between this and Gabi's aggressive flirting, it's safe to assume where we're going, until Cronenberg pulls the rug out, using the accident as a gateway into headier territory that goes well beyond the bad habits of bougie vacationers. 

This notion of someone having to watch the murder of their double suggests even deeper implications than the film has the capacity to fully examine. Still, Cronenberg does quite a job, going so far as to present this life altering experience as a twisted form of addictive entertainment. And casting Skarsgård was a masterstroke since he's the last actor anyone associates with characters this helplessly insecure or pathetic. James is so miserable that watching his own death feels like an escape, before eventually proving to be the ultimate release. And that's when the real sentencing for his crime begins. 

Whether these people did witness their clones' murders or are actually the doubles themselves are the kinds of existential questions the film's best at exploring. But when James becomes immersed in the hedonistic practices of Gabi's group, the lines between nightmare and reality blur, with volatile consequences. Some viewers might feel like abandoning ship when the gang (clad in grotesque Twilight Zone inspired masks) run roughshod over unsuspecting victims in a primitive display of violence and nudity that invokes A Clockwork Orange or Eyes Wide Shut. 

The last half of the movie is a mess, but a compelling one, as the tables turn when Goth's chaotic performance takes the wheel. From quirky, mysterious English hotel guest to wide-eyed, unpredictable lunatic, she gives a tour de force, somehow still managing to shock and mesmerize in the kind of role we've grown accustomed to her nailing. And yet it's also a complete departure, providing the perfect foil to a shaken, lower-key Skarsgård, whose whose inner animal is literally and figuratively unleashed during his character's ugly descent. 

This is strong sci-fi if you can withstand the copious amounts of practical gore and explicit sex acts that monopolize the last third of the picture, occasionally to its detriment. While leaving less to ponder than you'd expect given its rich premise, this does further establish Cronenberg as a unique visionary whose best filmmaking days are ahead. And that's not such a bad thing since Infinity Pool still comes with his eccentric, skin crawling stamp affixed. After a while you just surrender to its detours and imperfections, knowing that's the price for venturing into these wild waters.