Y'know, the magnificent thing about Cronenberg's style is that he takes visceral elements—often ones which will court controversy—and through them creates subtextual ruminations on various aspects of the nature of humanity. The thing here is that he just has his characters plainly talk about the ideas he would normally espouse in such a way. Comparatively, it's like being smacked about the head with a psychological textbook. That's not to say it's a bad film—it isn't, it's really quite interesting—it just feels awfully unsubtle, especially coming from this particular director. On the positive side, it could be one of his most beautifully shot works. Maybe it's because I've been watching his older, lower-budget stuff lately, but the digital photography (which Cronenberg has embraced over 35mm, trivia tidbit) is just gorgeous. The central trio are almost perfectly cast, Mortensen so involved in his role as to be near unrecognisable, Knightley and Fassbender both terrific in their respective roles. It's a fine story that doesn't just entertain: it does have something to say, even if that something is said particularly loudly and without much restraint. Not great, but nor the borefest I feared it might be.