Criterion outfits Cronenberg’s utterly one-of-kind erotic techno-fable with a mint transfer and a few pertinent archival extras.
Leave it to a Canadian filmmaker to attempt dissecting the shape of rage that lies underneath small town America.
The characters are treated with all the sympathy of amoebas seen through a microscope.
It would be a lot easier to dismiss The Hanging Garden if its fetishized details weren’t so naked and boldly autobiographical.
Boutique without being pretentious, queer without being sexual, and quirky without being particularly congenial.