It’s exciting to see Shyamalan on such confident footing once more, all these years later.
Twins seem a source of strange power to people who are not one.
Part of it must be in our imaginations. We see a nod or a glance between one twin and another, and we imagine some kind of telepathic communication taking place, when in fact the whole transaction is probably just ordinary body language.
Twins themselves always seem to keep some private place for their twinship. They do not talk about it much. They begin sentences that somehow seem to go nowhere, as if it is not quite possible to put into words what this particular relationship means to them. Most of us, I imagine, would like to have a twin; there is something awesome in the thought.
“Dead Ringers” is the vulgar exploitation-movie title given to David Cronenberg’s new film, which was originally and more poetically titled “Twins.” It stars Jeremy Irons in a dual role as Beverly and Elliot Mantle, brilliant twins who grow up to be brilliant gynecologists. Beverly’s name may be misleading; both twins are men, and they are unusually close, so much so that they routinely pretend to be each other.