rabid

One of the most common techniques used in horror is the "exploding frog" effect. Just like juvenile delinquents stuffing a frog full of firecrackers and admiring the show, much of the genre is built around that kind of shock and awe approach. And director David Cronenberg is no exception. In fact, the famous "head-popping" scene from Scanners might be the most celebrated splatter effect in history. But what differentiates Cronenberg is his clinical fascination with the result, a meticulous cataloging of each bit of gore as if the audience is witness to an important scientific experiment rather than a low-budget piece of exploitation filmmaking.

And what's more amazing is that sort of clinical approach was there right from the very beginning. As a follow-up to his incredible feature-film debut, Shivers, Cronenberg didn't fall far from the venereal horror tree with Rabid (1977), this time casting porn star Marilyn Chambers as a Canadian "Typhoid Mary" who feeds on her victims through a penile-like proboscis hidden in her armpit, turning her victims into predatory maniacs not unlike the infected horde in Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later.

But Crone berg’s inspiration was much closer to home. While Shivers cleverly disguised its Night of the Living Dead origins by confining the outbreak to an apartment complex, Rabid lifts elements from Romero's work wholesale, including the lesser-known germ warfare flick, The Crazies. Though the connections are obvious, after being filtered through Cronenberg's disturbing imagination the results are a compelling new strain of body horror.

A motorcycle accident finds Rose (Chambers) in the care of Dr. Keloid whose experimental skin-grafting technique saves her life. But when Rose emerges from her coma, she grabs the first unfortunate patient she can find and drains him of blood through the aforementioned proboscis. Still ravenous, Rose escapes the clinic and finds more victims, unknowingly spreading a rabies-like virus in exponential fashion. While authorities scramble to contain the outbreak, Rose tries to come to terms with what she has become...and the apocalypse she might be responsible for.

Rabid typically falls through the cracks of Cronenberg's filmography. It feels like the most compromised of his early productions, from the stunt casting of Chambers (who, it must be said, isn't half bad) to the awkward script construction and bric-a-brac editing style. But there moments in the movie that are simply unforgettable: Keloid's surgical freakout, Rose's experiment with farm animals, and the low-key but dramatic finale. And Cronenberg, whose road-rash obsessions would inspire the follow-up Fast Company, shows a real flair for stunt work that he rarely put to use again.

Rabid isn't as smart as his later work, but it's an important stop on the road map of one of the most unique directors to ever work in the genre. And Scream Factory treats it as such, with a loaded special edition that begins and ends with one of the best hi-def transfers they've put out yet. Don't be scared when the opening credits roll behind a thick layer of optical dirt; after the titles have moved on the new 2K restoration really shines. Extras are copious with a capital "C," including two audio commentaries (one with Cronenberg, another with author William Beard), interviews with Cronenberg, producer Ivan Reitman (yes, that Ivan Reitman), co-producer Don Carmody, a visual essay documenting the director's career, trailers, radio spots and a reversible slip-cover sporting new cover art.