Weisz shines twice in gender-swapped ‘Dead Ringers’

A tour de force dual performance from under appreciated actress

By JOHN PAUL KING

Fans of Canadian filmmaker David Cronenberg’s 1988 film “Dead Ringers” – starring Jeremy Irons in the dual role of Elliot and Beverly Mantle, identical twin gynecologists with a fondness for drugs, a willingness to manipulate their patients into having sex with them, and a radical vision for the future of women’s reproductive medicine – are doubtless already aware of Amazon Prime’s new limited series adaptation, which dropped on April 21. Many of them, if not most, have probably already seen all six episodes.

For anyone else, however, it might feel like a perfectly reasonable question to ask why anyone might be drawn to a story with a premise as twisted, dark, and deeply disquieting as this one – but of course, those are the very things that make it irresistible.

and research facility where they can help more women while developing new innovations in female fertility. Beverly, sweet-tempered and idealistic, is often at odds with the more aggressive and cynical Elliot, particularly over the ethics involved in achieving their various goals (such as accepting funding for their project from a Big Pharma billionaire or impersonating one another to trick a sexual conquest into bed), but they are nevertheless the center of each other’s lives. As in the film, it’s this closed-off interpersonal dynamic that leads them astray, severing them from the rest of the world and fueling their secretive, transgressive behavior.

Where the original’s observational focus was placed squarely on the twins, however, Birch and her creative crew open things up to take a wider view, and they waste no time in turning a critical and sometimes outrageously satirical eye toward the outside world.

These moments occasionally veer a little over the top, such as with an extended second-episode sequence in which a dinner party with potential donors becomes an almost Fellini-esque display of disconnected self-indulgence among the privileged elite, but on a more subtle level they help ally our sympathies with Beverly and Elliot. The world they move in is full of boldfaced arrogance, craven hypocrisy, tone-deaf pretension, and unapologetic greed; how can we not take their side, when it’s clear the medical establishment which they seek to upend deserves everything they can do to it and more.

Of course, their own motives are murky, too. Much is kept mysterious about the Mantles, with secrets doled out in small, sometimes cryptic revelations, and we are kept off balance by an unreliable narrative structure that isn’t always linear and frequently jumps from reality to imagination without making it quite clear which is which. We’re never sure if what we’re seeing is really happening – or when it’s happening, for that matter.

The original “Dead Ringers” – which Cronenberg and screenwriter Norman Snider adapted from a novel (“Twins”) by Bari Wood and Jack Geasland – is considered a masterpiece of “body horror,” a sub-genre that plays on our instinctive fear of mutilation, deformity, or other such intrusive desecrations of our physical beings. It’s a brooding story of co-dependence and isolation, with Irons delivering two distinctively different but equally disturbing flavors of narcissistic amorality as the two brothers spiral away from the outside world into the private reality they’ve built around their obsessions and the unique advantages that come with being identical twins. At its essence, its biggest horrors are more psychological than visceral, and watching the slow-but-inevitable self-destruction that unspools from the Mantles’ insular and distorted perceptions is a painful but gripping journey that sticks with you in ways you wish it wouldn’t; still, there is a definite “gross-out” factor involved (the pair’s baroquely sinister, custom-designed gynecological tools are enough to make us cringe by the power of imagination alone) that lingers even longer, and makes the movie difficult to watch even for less squeamish viewers.

In Amazon’s updated reimagining of the story, the central narrative takes advantage of its long-form presentation to explore the twisted psychology of its twin protagonists – though that doesn’t feel like quite the right word, all things considered - and the fascination with body horror remains, but show developer and head writer Alice Birch changes almost everything else – starting with the gender of her two leading characters, though they still bear the same ambiguously androgynous names. It’s a bold transformation that might seem like a gimmick, at first, but quickly brushes past any skepticism to illuminate the story in a provocative new light – and we’re not just talking about the obvious lesbian implications inherent in the premise of female gynecologists seducing their own patients.

Now portrayed by Rachel Weisz, the Mantles are not merely successful, they are renowned, running their own clinic and pursuing their dream of opening a birthing center

All of that goes a long way toward keeping us hooked into “Dead Ringers” as it goes further and further down its crooked path, and a few heavily-portioned moments of gore – much of it related to childbirth and the medical procedures that take place around it – certainly keep us on edge. Likewise, the gender-swapped reframing introduces a layer of feminism by challenging us with a depiction of women exploiting other women – almost all the characters who hold power are female – to facilitate what ultimately descends into a whirlpool of self-serving hedonism.

Yet as intriguing as all those ideas might be, they’re never as compelling as we think they are going to be. Even the queer aspects of the story feel a bit rote, though perhaps it’s refreshing that lesbian lead characters and depictions of lesbian sex are handled as if their queerness is “no big deal.” Nor does “Dead Ringers” ever really scare, though it does unsettle.

That’s because at its core, it’s a tale about identity, about two sides of a single personality caught in a never-ending struggle for domination. It would be simplistic to equate Bev and Elliot to “good” and “evil” sides of our nature, though there are definite echoes of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” in their interlocked personas, but the conflict between them is primal, nonetheless, and that’s where the meat of the story lies. All the rest is seasoning.

Fortunately, Rachel Weisz – a criminally underrated actress, and we say this knowing she is an Oscar-winner – takes charge from the start, delivering a tour de force dual performance that is every bit the equal of Irons’ acclaimed turn in Cronenberg’s film while making both roles uniquely her own. Compelling, layered, likeable, monstrous, fragile, fierce, and always authentic, she holds our interest even when the story flags – as it occasionally does – and keeps us watching all the way.

Thanks to her, Amazon’s “Dead Ringers” confidently carves a place of its own. Is it scary? Maybe not as much so as Cronenberg’s original, but it has an appeal of its own and enough clinical gore to provide at least a few enjoyable jump scares.

In any case, neither version is as scary as the fact that the novel which was the basis for them both was itself based on the story of the Marcus twins, a pair of real-life twin gynecologists who died in an apparent suicide pact.

It’s enough to make you never trust a doctor again.