By comedian Garrett Millerick

Long Live The New Discs

‘America's getting soft, patrón, and the rest of the world is getting tough. Very, very tough. We're entering savage new times, and we're going to have to be pure and direct and strong, if we're going to survive them.'

A phrase that is often bandied about these days is that ‘we live in unprecedented times', and I admit that it's very difficult when consuming the information pouring through our phones to not conclude that these times are uncertain, scary and unnerving, but they are unfortunately entirely precedented. Everything is a pattern and a loop. And If you want a fun but stark analysis of the current state of the world I can thoroughly recommend you reach for a film that was originally released back in 1983, David Cronenberg's Videodrome.

The basic premise of Videodrome is that a pirate video signal, initially viewed as a harmless bit of salacious entertainment, turns out to be an evil, malevolent, sentient tool in the war for the soul of civilisation. Once seen, the content will induce a cancerous brain tumour rendering the viewer unable to distinguish right from wrong, good from evil and reality from fantasy. Viewers of the Videodrome signal become helpless ‘derelicts' hooked on rays emanating from Cathode Ray tubes. If you've not seen the movie, but do have a twitter account, you should be vaguely familiar with the premise. You're living it.

I first saw Videodrome back in the early 2000s and loved it, it's a brilliantly entertaining horror thriller. It was made in the early 80s against the backdrop of the video nasty debate, and sets out to ask some challenging questions about the effect that violence and pornography were having on the impressionable minds of those ancient people in their antiquated world. It's infused with Cronenberg's trademark body horror, it's engrossing and often disgusting, the production design is cracking, Rick Baker's compelling effects are on a par with his work on The Thing, Howards Shore's doom-laden score punctuates the whole thing beautifully and it's anchored by a brilliant performance from James Woods. It's a top-notch example of eighties horror, and if you like that kind of thing, which personally I do, it's a fine way to spend ninety minutes. But it wasn't a film I'd ever come back to, until the fine folks at Arrow video decided to put out a shiny new 4k Blu Ray version and I decided to revisit it.

Ironically, I'd only recently decided to get back into physical media following a tough but necessary break up with streaming services. Night after night I had found myself trapped between the never-ending shelves of the virtual blockbuster video that I'd built using a dizzying array of subscriptions. A braindead derelict, addicted to choice, unable to find anything that caught my eye or engaged my enthusiasm. My iPad propped up on the sofa vomiting out a YouTube video, Twitter malevolently emanating from the phone in my left hand as the remote in my right swiped away movie after movie on the gargantuan monolithic screen bolted to my living room wall. Something had to be done or the sludge that occupied the space behind my eyes may never be rehabilitated into a working organ.

A good bit of fun eighties horror seemed like the perfect place to start ‘getting back into actually watching a film' and escaping the relentless horror of modern life. So I popped Videodrome into the player and put my feet up. Far from being the mindless piece of escapism that I was bargaining for what unfolded on the screen was a sort of fun house mirror for everything that's been making me uneasy for the last few years. Cronenberg placing himself as a sort of merry Canadian Nostradamus.

Good god this film has aged well. There is no more satisfying thing that discovering that a film that was made in the year of your birth can offer more effective commentary than any you've been able to muster with your forty-one years. Whilst being an over-the-top exploration of what was occurring in the eighties with the advent of video recorders. The film manages to nail social media and the relationship we have with our devices with an unnerving accuracy.

In one of the films stand out moments Videodrome so ensnares Maxx in its grip the pulsating image of Debbie Harry's lips on his television screen draws him closer and closer and the screen begins to balloon in his direction he succumbs to its call and presses his face into its welcoming grasp. It's a brilliant bit of cinema, and a powerful visual metaphor for doom scrolling late at night in the dark.

I was so engaged by James Woods performance in the film my mind wandered sadly for a moment as the thought entered my head ‘I wonder what happened to James Woods, you don't see him so much anymore'. I reached for my iPad and glanced down his Wikipedia entry and there it was, in all its cruel irony under the heading ‘political views and twitter use'. The Videodrome had claimed the star of Videodrome as another one of its victims. Another derelict, like so many other great public figures pulled into its grip.

There is of course the possibly that, much like the victims of Videodrome, I'm seeing things that aren't there. Wishfully projecting my own fears and concerns onto a canvass where they don't belong. But good horror cinema gets under your skin by touching on your subconscious fears. Conjuring imaginary monsters in the shadows. This is great Horror Cinema. And if you're looking around you wondering if it might be time to reevaluate your relationship with your devices, buying a physical copy of Videodrome is the perfect place to start your rehabilitation. Long live the new flesh.

Garrett Millerick's comedy special Just Trying to Help – which covers many things, including the terrifying rise of social media is available now:

https://800poundgorillamedia.com/products/garrett-millerick-just-trying-to-help on 800 Pound Gorilla's platform, followed by general release and on their wider network (including YouTube, – https://www.youtube.com/@800pgm – where it will be free to watch). from 28^th February 2025.