Rabid (1977) Review

 

After a near-fatal motorcycle accident, Rose undergoes an experimental skin graft procedure that saves her life — but leaves her with a hunger that spreads a rabies-like plague through the city. As the infection grows, panic follows, and civilisation begins to quietly unravel.

Written and directed by David Cronenberg, Rabid is an early, confident statement of intent from a filmmaker already obsessed with the fragile boundary between flesh, science and control. Shot largely on real locations in and around Montreal, the film has a gritty, almost documentary realism that grounds its increasingly nightmarish ideas. Cronenberg lets the story unfold slowly, allowing the rabies outbreak subplot to creep into the narrative in a measured, unsettling way rather than relying on shocks alone. It’s thoughtful, patient genre filmmaking, and remarkably ambitious for its modest budget.

Marilyn Chambers is the undeniable centre of the film and its greatest asset. Her performance as Rose is detached, tragic and strangely sympathetic, anchoring the film even as it descends into societal collapse. Chambers carries the film almost entirely, giving it an eerie emotional consistency that never wavers. Around her, Frank Moore, Joe Silver and Howard Ryshpan provide solid support, but this is very much Chambers’ film from beginning to end.

The kills and make-up effects are impressively effective for the period, restrained but disturbing, reinforcing Cronenberg’s clinical approach to horror rather than undermining it. Gun-happy cops appear throughout, from the police station to the shopping mall, heightening the sense of chaos. Notable sequences include a tense shoot-out where a Santa Claus is accidentally caught in the crossfire, officers drilling through cars, and multiple car crashes as panic spreads. These setups are smartly staged, adding suspense and variety — the film’s impact is not just in the rabid, bloody faces and neck wounds, but in how the infection intersects with human recklessness and urban mayhem.

The music — credited to Ivan Reitman — is simple, spare and memorable, with a recurring piano motif that subtly enhances the film’s creeping dread. Structurally, Rabid almost plays like a road movie at times, drifting from place to place as the outbreak spreads, reinforcing the sense of unstoppable movement and loss of control.

Rabid may be rough around the edges, but what Cronenberg achieves on a limited budget is remarkable. It’s smart, unsettling, and quietly devastating — an early body-horror classic that announces a major filmmaker and gives Marilyn Chambers a performance that defines the film long after the final frame.