Infinity Pool (2023)

Brandon Cronenberg, intent on proving that he's not exclusively bound to follow in his father's body horror footsteps, casts Alexander Skarsgård and Mia Goth to act out a bunch of his sexual fetishes on screen. Oh, and body horror.

Skarsgård, a failed novelist, is on a tropical holiday with his rich sugar-mamma wife in the far away, made up, poverty-stricken land of Li Tolqa. They stay politely inside the razor wired perimeter of the all-inclusive resort, like good guests.

Mia Goth makes eyes at him, and they're off on an emotional affair faster than you can blink. Goth's Swiss husband seems pretty thrilled about this, Skarsgård's American wife is less enthusiastic.

Goth and husband talk Skarsgård and wife into sneaking out of the compound and driving a borrowed convertible across the island to get wasted on a beach. Goth gives Skarsgård an extremely distressing handjob in the woods, and Skarsgård drunkenly crashes the car into a local farmer. In the panic, Goth explains that they have to cover up the manslaughter or the corrupt police will rape them and imprison them forever.

Regardless, Skarsgård is arrested in the morning. He's taken down to the decaying police station, which could just as well be the set from Father Cronenberg's Crimes of the Future, where the police chief uncomfortably informs him that local law requires him to be put to death. Luckily, they allow you to buy a clone of yourself first, and the clone can just as well serve your sentence since it's… you. The police chief guides him to the only two things in their vacant police station: the ATM, and the ominously red-glowing sci-fi cloning lab.

Skarsgård is cloned into double-Skarsgård, one of which is subsequently stabbed to death in a semi-public execution with a painfully obvious homage to the crucificion of Jesus.

Watching one of himself get disemboweled brings about the surviving-Skarsgård's emotional rebirth. He latches on to Goth, who introduces him to her cadre of clone-murder-surviving friends. Li Tolqa is where they come every year to Be Gay Do Crime; murder, drugs, orgies, and watching themselves be violently put to death. Skarsgård hangs around uselessly while they run about carelessly maiming locals. His wife, herself not reborn in the light of savage clonal dispatch, pisses off back home and leaves him with his new gang of middle-aged, bad influence friends.

They all get arrested, they all get cloned, and they all watch in glee as their clones are brutalized. They also continuously inhale a bunch of hallucinagenic incense, giving Cronenberg justification to shoot unnerving, surreal orgy scenes for longer than you would think anyone would be comfortable with. It also gives him carte blanche to let any future scene slip into disjointed, swirling madness, should he so desire. And desire he does.

Skarsgård is all in for the escalating violence, increasing his own involvement, until they trick him into beating one of his own clones half to death. He doesn't like that at all and tries to flee the country, but his friends turn out to be a conniving troop of bigger-than-the-law bandits, and he their unwitting patsy. They take him prisoner and shame-walk him down the streets of Li Tolqa at gunpoint, then make him battle his clone to the death. He is, yet again, reborn.

Early on, one of the friends pokes briefy at the obvious cliché question – how do we know WE aren't the clones? – but they wisely choose not to linger on it. They don't really bring up any better questions, though, so you're kind of on your own to explain their motivations. Cronenberg lets the very literal clones play a metaphorical role, serving as a glorified mirror for the spoiled rich kids to smash for their own catharsis, but isn't keen on offering viewers the same. Mia Goth takes her top off and Skarsgård displays his washboard abs at every turn, in case the philosophical ponderings aren't holding your attention.