By JASON COMERFORD

Snuff films, kinky sex, “subterranean” video, and more: Pretty rough stuff for a wide theatrical release in from a major American studio (during the Reagan era, no less), but David Cronenberg’s Videodrome grounds its risky content within an entirely legitimate conceptual framework. Cronenberg’s cinematic theories of dream states, virtual reality and the overlap between technology and biology reach full fruition in a way his films rarely have since; the ideas are drawn from a wide array of influences but the mix is entirely his own.

Howard Shore’s innovative musical approach blurs the line between acoustic instrumentation and manipulated electronic sounds; Shore composed the score for an orchestra, then programmed it into a Synclavier II digital synthesizer and recorded the music with a small string ensemble playing in support. A striking highlight of both the film and the score occurs about an hour in, as James Woods’ sleazy TV programmer, under the control of a broadcast signal which induces violent hallucinations, watches metallic tendrils sprout from a handgun and into his arm. Shore’s ominous synthesized chords pulse underneath eerie sprinkles of curling, twisting string figures, emphasizing the film’s theme of dehumanization while accenting the horrific, Giger-esque imagery.