There’s the David Cronenberg who made The Dead Zone, A History of Violence, and Eastern Promises, and that Cronenberg is great at making controlled, focused, perfectly tuned engines of tension and introspection. But that Cronenberg is not the same mild-mannered man as the deranged fucking weirdo behind the camera of Videodrome, or The Fly, or 1979’s body-horror classic The Brood, a profoundly disturbing splat of indie cinema that gets even more fucked-up when you find out it’s a loosely autobigraphical account of Cronenberg’s divorce, except with way more psychoplasmic dwarf children hell-bent on grisly homicide.