The Shrouds Review: Cronenberg Returns To Cannes With A Theatrical Embodiment Of Grief.

By Arden Lawson

“The Shrouds lends itself to a sort of delayed appreciation; its story only makes sense with the detached perspective that might begin to develop in the time between the death of a loved one and the funeral service at which they’re laid to rest.” (David Elrich, Indiewire.)

The film picks up in modern-day Toronto. Karsh (Vincent Cassel), a troubled but brilliant man, has developed an enterprise called "GraveTech." Thanks to his electronic shrouds embedded with sensors and cameras, this innovation allows the living to observe their deceased loved ones' decomposition in real-time via an app. These shrouds map the body in detail, transmitting 8K visuals to the tombstone screens.

At the heart of this technological advancement lies Karsh's personal tragedy: the death of his wife Becca (Diane Kruger). Becca's body is among the first to be wrapped in the high-tech shroud and buried in a cemetery owned by Karsh himself. Here, he frequently visits her grave, using the GraveTech interface to maintain a form of connection with her decaying remains. As the plot unfolds, the cemetery faces vandalism and security breaches and we witness Karsh's interactions with other characters, including an eclectic mix of suspects and Becca's identical twin sister Terri (also played by Kruger).

Initially, Karsh was a complicated character to understand. It took me a few days to realize that he exemplifies a loss of control. In his grief, he becomes hyper-fixated on a convoluted mystery involving Russians, Chinese investors, doctors, and various other characters. These distractions allow him to avoid confronting the true source of his distress: his wife’s passing. Karsh’s inability to accept his grief manifests in his obsession with the technological monitoring of his wife's decaying body, a way to keep her present and avoid the finality of her death. As Karsh laments through life, the film mirrors his disorientation and lack of clear goals, creating a slow-moving and often dismal narrative that can be challenging to engage with.

David Cronenberg's The Shrouds is a film that defies conventional storytelling, often leaving the audience bewildered by its seemingly disjointed plot. Throughout the film, relationships form and dissolve without context, and decisions are made with minimal explanation. At several points, I found myself throwing up my hands in wonder at the narrative's opacity. However, this chaotic structure may well be Cronenberg's method of communicating the profound disorientation that accompanies grief.

In hindsight, had I known the context of this film, I would have had a much different viewing experience, or “séance”, as the French say. David Cronenberg, the film’s director, lost his wife of thirty-eight years to cancer not a few years ago. With that in mind, this movie then becomes an autobiography where Karsh, who ironically resembles Cronenberg, must navigate a reality after the death of his wife. Karsh’s motives are irrelevant, for his one guiding tenet is his overwhelming grief for his lost wife. Maybe this film is a lens into the reality of Cronenberg. I often say that film and reality move parallel, one drawing from the other. 

I definitely left the screening with more questions than answers. There were many conspiracies and rabbit holes, leaving the audience to fend for themselves as they waded the murky plot. Despite that, one thing remained clear: grief takes many forms. Becca meant the world to Karsh, and by losing her, he feels like he has lost a piece of himself. Maybe the film is a journey for those missing pieces, and only Cronenberg knows where they hide.

Photo Credits: Deadline, The Wrap

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