Being terrified is just the beginning!

Fifty years on, David Cronenberg’s Shivers still crawls under the skin with its unnerving mix of clinical detachment and raw, bodily horror. Long before he became a household name with The Fly or Videodrome, Cronenberg was already sketching out the blueprint for what would define his career: a fascination with the fragility of the body, the corruption of the mind, and the terrifyingly thin barrier between civilized society and primal chaos.

Set in a sterile, luxury apartment complex on the outskirts of Montreal, the film wastes no time in subverting its backdrop. The sleek modernity of Starliner Towers becomes the perfect incubator for dread when a strain of parasites begins infecting its residents. What starts as a medical curiosity spirals into an epidemic of violent, lust-fueled mania, leaving Dr. Roger St. Luc (Paul Hampton) desperately trying to contain the outbreak before it spills into the wider city.

Seen today, Shivers is more than just a scrappy feature—it’s a disturbing excavation of suburban sanity itself. Cronenberg peels back the polished façade of modern living to expose the harrowing paranoia festering beneath. The parasites aren’t just creatures; they’re symbols of desire, repression, and contagion, spreading through the building like gossip at a cocktail party, reminding us how easily fear and panic can travel.

While the low budget occasionally betrays its ambition, the rough edges only enhance the sense of unease. This is Cronenberg at his most raw and uncompromising, testing boundaries that would echo across his career. From here, he would refine his obsessions into the sleek terror of Scanners, the grotesque intimacy of The Fly, and the icy eroticism of Crash. But in Shivers, we see the first burst of infection—the moment body horror and social commentary fused into something unshakably his own.

The Prognosis:

Shivers hasn’t lost its bite. It’s grim, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s as relevant as ever in a world still haunted by viral outbreaks and communal fear. Cronenberg reminds us that the real horror doesn’t just come from outside—it festers within, waiting patiently to consume us all, one by one.

• Saul Muerte