The Brood (1979)

 "It has no teeth, but you'd get a pretty nasty bite from these beak-like gums..."

Nasty divorces and unpleasant custody battles happen, sadly, even to auteur film directors. And, if said auteur happens to be David Cronenberg, this will naturally lead to a film all about how evil his ex is and why he should have custody of his daughter, all through the medium of extreme body horror.

Thing is, though, it may well be blatant that this is what he's doing, but none of that stops this film being a masterfully helmed wotk of genius. This film really ought to feel self-indulgent, but it's just too good for that.

It helps that we have a just-sober-enough Oliver Reed as a gloriously weird red herring of a creepily unorthodox psychiatrist (his book looks like a kind of very '70s yet also very Cronenberg tome: Erich Von Daniken with body horror) who is there as a very prominent piece of misdirection, but the real killers are, it seems, a gang of homonculuses (none of this Latinate "homonculi" nonsense; loan words don't get to bring their own syntax with them even if they are from swanky old Latin) which are birthed by, let's face it, a character representing Cronenberg's ex, in gloriously horrific ways as seen in the extraordinarily long and wonderfully effective final scene.

As ever with Cronenberg we have exquisite direction with the most banal of locations made to look creepily beautiful. We have eccentric minor characters and his usual themes of memory, family, bodily squelchiness and medical madness. This film is superb.