They never cast a fucking actor who actually speaks Turkish.
Anyways, I don’t know whether I can really imagine this as a Cronenbergian piece, as I am more accustomed to Videodrome Cronenberg. However, it certainly is, and perhaps even more subtle than ever. You see the body as a focal subject once again: the body preserve an identity, tattoos to your sins and misdeeds, bruise or cuts to an action, and family imply a heritage. Your body mirrors your life. With…