David Cronenberg has a lengthy filmography brimming with stories about the human fascination with violation and voyeurism, fetish and fantasy. His latest feature, Crimes of the Future, screening in Cannes in competition, is very much part of that oeuvre. Alas, it lacks the wit, the menace and the frisson of his previous output.

The film’s opening sequences are its greatest: a beautiful young boy is playing on a beach, a rotting carcass of a ship in the distance. He’s scooping the sand with a spoon and his mother warns him not to eat anything. Only later do we understand that she is not concerned with him eating sea urchins or kelp, but something much less palatable.

The story then shifts to the home of Caprice (Léa Seydoux) and Saul Tenser (Viggo Mortensen), two performance artists. She’s an ex-trauma surgeon and his body conveniently grows extra new organs for her to remove.