Possessor doesn’t really need its alternate title—Possessor Uncut—to provoke you. A still photo from one of its more arresting frames will do that. Written and directed by Brandon Cronenberg (son of David Cronenberg), Possessor cranks up the aesthetic volume on two familiar subgenres—the hired killer psychodrama and the sci-fi body-snatcher—until they meld into a destabilizing case of extreme cinema.
Discovering the details of the premise is part of the movie’s allure (especially in its woozy opening sequence), so you might want to skip what follows to have a full experience of the film. Andrea Riseborough plays Tasya, a futuristic assassin with a deeply unnerving method of execution. The company she works for has developed a technology that allows her to “possess” another person’s body—essentially, temporarily displace their consciousness with her own. While in control, she then murders her target, “pulls out” of the body, and let’s the possessed person take the fall.
Riseborough has a shockingly pale, androgynous presence; it’s as if, even outside of her work, Tasya is a blank slate, awaiting different colors and genders to be cast upon her. And indeed, her main target in the movie is Colin (Christopher Abbott), whose muscled physique and dark hair she carefully observes after taking over his body. Soon, however, what should be just another job goes haywire, as Colin’s consciousness begins to fight back.
Possessor takes a conceit that has often been played for comedy and drenches it in darkness and violence. The murders Tasya commits are depicted in lacerating, eye-gouging detail; the bludgeonings are anything but quick. While I can intellectually understand the argument that film violence should always be disturbing, it can also pass a point—as it did for me here—where you’re so repelled that you’re completely taken out of the movie. (Possessor also features a transgressive moment involving a child that verges on the exploitative.)
Even so, there’s no denying that Cronenberg knows how to build an arresting near-future, with fashion and production design that’s just a degree different from what we see today and technology that’s at once eerie and inevitable. (I love that the device Tasya straps onto her head while undergoing possession looks like a mechanical version of Alien’s face-hugger.)
What truly distinguishes Cronenberg as a filmmaker are the possession sequences. At times the screen is soaked in deep reds or blues (the cinematography is by Karim Hussain), casting a psychedelic glow over the proceedings. When Tasya first takes control of Colin, her face melts, then reforms—drip by drip—into his. As Colin tries to regain control, the screen stutters and blurs; “he” looks into a mirror and sees “her” disfigured visage. Later, Colin dons a mask that looks like Tasya’s face if it were slowly disintegrating. It’s a sight that would frighten Michael Myers.
By this point the movie has become so harrowing that you may feel as if Possessor has possessed you. True to the religious significance of the film’s title, it can be read not only as a thriller, but a struggle for a soul (and if I’m reading the final moments correctly, that soul is lost). Possessor is malleable enough to invite other metaphorical interpretations, as well. Certainly the gender dynamic makes it ripe for discussion as a representation of the transgender experience. Whatever you take from it, Possessor isn’t easy to shake—even if you might want to.
