By Sharai Bohannon

Mubi Fest Chicago treated genre fans to arguably the grossest and most beloved gem on David Cronenberg’s resume. Fans crowded the Siskel Film Center in Downtown Chicago to see The Fly on 35MM. The genre staple turns 40 this year and is aging like fine wine…that happens to taste like bile.

Most of us are familiar with this moist 1986 classic. An awkward but brilliant scientist picks up a reporter at a party. He takes her home and shows her his (very 80s) teleportation machine. They begin dating, he gets jealous, and sends himself through his machine without working out all the kinks. This leads to him turning into a giant man-sized fly who can’t seem to understand why she doesn’t want to have his mutant baby. A tale as old as time and possibly the best version of Beauty and the Beast for freaks like you and me. Things get very hairy and goopy in this remake of 1958’s The Fly. The almost 28-year difference might as well be an entire millennium when Cronenberg is finished repainting the story with blood and vomit.

Because I wasn’t even conceived when the film was made, this was my first time seeing this science fiction masterpiece that raised me on the big screen. I was very surprised by how many people in the packed audience hadn’t seen the film. It was an unexpected reminder that I was raised differently. However, I also envied these Fly virgins. After all, this movie imprinted on me while kids my age were watching Barney and Friends. It’s the film I measure all body horror, sci-fi, and Cronenberg films against. I’m sure one day the right therapist will also trace some of my commitment issues back to the leaky Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum)’s treatment of Ronnie (Geena Davis).

The Cronenberg classic is most memorable for its bile and prosthetics. However, on the big screen, it’s hard not to fall in love all over again with the marriage of the gorgeous and the grotesque. Goldblum and Davis were icons in that era, and likely the center of many sexual awakenings. They both have feathered hair and charm for days. You almost need sunglasses because their shared screentime is almost too much for the eyes of mortals like us. Watching their characters become lovers sets up audiences who are not in the know for a movie that will not give them a happy ending. What could have easily been another sexy film from a bygone era becomes a repulsive reminder that anything can become disgusting if you put in the work. 

One of many things I love about The Fly is that we’re not subjected to a heteronormative relationship and expected to believe that love conquers all. It sidesteps that cloying message still found in movies today and reminds you that some problems can’t be solved with a hug. Our hot couple cannot cure decay, madness, and death with a cuddle. While we empathize with Seth and mourn the nerdy dude most of us would’ve also happily hooked up with, he begins to exit the picture (and the relationship) the second he steps out of the machine the first time. This is underscored as we watch him try to force Ronnie and his rebound one-night stand into the same fate. It is even more apparent when he disrupts Ronnie’s attempt to abort whatever he has impregnated her with. Choosing instead to merge her and the fetus with himself as he continues his quick descent into the buggy hell he’s speeding towards. 

Side rant: another reason I stan this movie and Cronenberg is that Ronnie decides to have an abortion. Not only is this handled well for 1986, but it’s even more refreshing in 2026 after seeing so many filmmakers fumble abortions in their projects in recent years. Ronnie reminds each man who tries to stop her that she doesn’t want whatever is in her body to be in her body anymore. She remains insistent in her conversation with her boss and former lover, Stathis Borans (John Getz). She continues to double down at the doctor’s office as she is again told she should think about it. Ronnie also threatens to perform her own abortion if the doctor refuses to do his job. She even tries to tell the monstrous version of the man she used to love, who has taken her hostage, that this fetus has to go ASAP. We don’t get this kind of character nearly enough in the media today. She took “her body, her choice” seriously, and we need more of that energy in this weirdly conservative time we live in.

The Fly isn’t just respected by genre kids, though. The film is one of the few body horror films to walk away with an Oscar, thanks to Chris Walas’ disgusting makeup work. Which means that creature isn’t just sickening, but also Academy Award-winning nasty work. Goldblum’s hours spent becoming different stages of that monster and still giving a heartbreaking and scary performance are so worth it. Via Ronnie, the audience is forced to watch a loved one mutate as their body betrays them and they become something hideous. It’s harrowing, heartbreaking, and hits differently the older we get as an audience. As a child, this was cool and gross. Now it’s weighted and hurts in ways I could’ve never imagined when telling the other daycare kids about it in the 90s.

It’s easy to project our own horror and empathy onto Ronnie as Davis’ performance is relatable for most people watching a loved one running out of time. It’s easy for those of us who have watched people battle terminal illnesses or had to summon the patience to deal with aging relatives as their minds begin to betray them, to have endless sympathy for Ronnie. Again, Cronenberg avoids the love-is-all-you-need sensibilities and instead goes for the tragedy of inevitability. Most relationships end because people grow apart and/or change. The Fly takes that life lesson and dips it in goo that it then forces Seth to spit out in too many scenes. 

While this metaphor is eating its way out of a man, it checks all of the boxes that made me a Cronenberg girl. We have his fascination with the human body as a science experiment to be explored via his camera. It’s disgusting in the way that earned him the title of Grandpa Gooey in my circles. We have a refusal to lean into the easy and happy endings audiences pretend they want. The characters feel real, human, and messy as they battle chaotic circumstances. We find ourselves rooting for them even after the 25th rewatch, and find ourselves hurting for them even though we know how this movie ends. 

The final moment of lucidity after the monster in the man has ripped itself out and has been refried in his own creation is the true end. The creature places the barrel of the gun to its head in a silent plea for Ronnie to put it out of its misery already. She cries as she pulls the trigger, honoring the hero and the monster’s last wish. The fusion is complete, and neither wants to live as what it has become. There is no going back to Seth; there is no hope for a cure, because his parts and brain matter are scattered around his lab. 

The Fly turns 40 this year, and it’s still as captivating as ever. It’s hard not to see traces of its ooze in the DNA of recent titles like The Substance. There is a reason this remake surpasses its original, a rarity in the movie industry. The film continues to withstand the test of time as it continues to look down from its high perch amid our other Cronenberg favorites. It’s because it captures the filmmaker’s singular voice and reinvented the sci-fi horror genre in 1986. This is why it was on repeat for many of us growing up in the decades after it premiered. This tragic, repulsive, 80s moment is possibly the most honest depiction of life and love I have ever seen. I sincerely hope I’m around for its 80th anniversary and still able to write about why it still rips. I’m actively avoiding all teleportation machines and cute scientists to do my part to ensure I’m still here for that milestone.