The Big Picture

• The Dead Ringers TV adaptation with Rachel Weisz captures a disturbingly complex vision that surpasses the original film.
• The series explores twin gynecologists' troubling relationship in ways the 1988 version didn't, diving deep into psychological horror.
• By focusing on the twins' impact on the world around them, the adaptation emphasizes the sickening nature of their codependent bond.

Very few filmmakers in the horror genre have created as many haunting, surreal tales of terror as the legendary David Cronenberg. Known for his innovative storytelling and mind-bending approach to body horror, the creator's unique style has spawned countless hit films over his many years of work, one of them being the classic Dead Ringers. Focusing on a pair of successful but troubled gynecologists, the movie unnerved audiences for its portrayal of cinema's most toxic codependent relationship. Then, 35 years later, a TV adaptation was announced with Rachel Weisz as the dual protagonists. Created by Alice Birch, this gender flip of the beloved property promised to alter many aspects of the original, and people were nervous that this new take wouldn't capture the disturbing psychology of its predecessor. And, to their point, the Prime Video series didn't — it did something even better. By delving into themes that the first movie didn't and using its expanded runtime to present a sickeningly complex vision of the troubled minds at its center, the show did what very few can: it created an adaptation that exceeds the bounds of its original.

‘Dead Ringers’ Is a Story Better Suited With Women at the Center

While flawed, the initial Dead Ringers offered a disturbing approach to medicine and twins that chilled the audiences in 1988. It tells the story of Beverly and Elliot Mantle (Jeremy Irons), twin gynecologists with conflicting personalities who begin a frightening spiral when the comfort they've always had, each other, is threatened by a potential new romance. The movie uses the stellar acting of Irons to portray just how dangerously unhealthy this relationship is; not only has each man's reliance on the other made them unable to function as their own person, but as the film goes on they begin resorting to more and more destructive activities to ease their conflict, damaging themselves and everyone around them in increasingly disturbing ways.

It's an intriguing premise that is, unfortunately, stunted by the fact that the twins are cisgender men, and the plot is held back because of it. It does touch on interesting themes of masculinity and has the bizarre horror Cronenberg is known for, but its refusal to connect the twins to the women that fill their daily lives misses out on intriguing themes that could emphasize just how sickening each man's psyche is. It's not only this failure to explore their connection that stunts the film, but by focusing on two men whose conflict traumatizes the many women around them, it paints each more as mean-spirited mirrors of one another rather than potentially empathetic characters.

A gender swap wouldn't immediately entail a better project, but the rebooted series certainly gave itself an advantage by casting the impeccable Rachel Weisz to act as the troubled sisters at its center. Not only is the actress' dual performance exceptional throughout, but by focusing on twin gynecologists who can better understand and empathize with the issues their patients face, the series becomes much more compelling overall. The Mantles in this outing see their profession as more than a job, with Beverly especially recognizing how vital their role is in the lives of each patient and committing to giving them the safest, most comfortable birthing experience possible. This mission drives a majority of the show's plot, and with this new exploration of the twin's work, its early horror is largely a showcase of how cruelly modern medicine treats people who give birth. While the original movie did grant its main men endearing qualities, it's this emphasis on the connection each woman has with their jobs and patients that draws viewers in to become concerned for their wellbeing and wants — making it that much more disturbing as we watch them both fall apart.

Cronenberg's Story Gets The Terrifying Time It Deserves

Even beyond the benefits that come with having its main cast be primarily women, Dead Ringers also thrives by delving into the twin's relationship in ways the 1988 version didn't. Weisz presents each twin as distinct, with Elliot being the wild partier and Beverly the quiet and controlled balance to her twin's fleeting wants. But beyond trying to portray them as polar opposites, the actress highlights how they are still so similar in their desires, making it ominously understandable why their bond became as strong — and terrifying — as it did.

Their relationship mirrors the cycle of birth their patients undergo; the intimate, bodily connection they feel, the tenuous rollercoaster of emotions they experience trying to hang onto each other. Then, at least for Beverly, the recognition that separation (birth) is inevitable so that they can both grow individually. It's also a dark mirror of postpartum depression, the endless melancholy each feels when separated from the person they'd felt so connected to. The Mantles support their patients through these exhausting stages but never take their own advice and allow each other individuality, with the series' climax seeing them do something their patients never could: become one again.

The horror of Dead Ringers is largely psychological, with viewers watching as the twins' mental health begins to fracture in increasingly extreme ways that prove a danger to everyone around them. While this is similar to the degradation the twins in the 1988 film undergo, the way this pair resonates with those they serve creates a visceral dread as the series better shows just how guttural the pain they feel when separated can be. The finale epitomizes the benefits of this reimagining with a truly haunting scene that trades mental horror up to that point with a brutal, sustained moment of gore that would make Cronenberg proud. This sees a heavily pregnant Beverly and a distraught Elliot come together and undo any solo progress they've made, committing to a life as one, horrifically getting inside of one another in a perversion of their life-saving pregnancy work and a brutal representation of their ongoing struggles to exist as separate beings. The first Dead Ringers' finale is likewise jaw-dropping and disgustingly terrifying, but the violence of that fails to find the mind-bending resonance that the show's finale does in portraying just how disturbing this pair's relationship is.

The 'Dead Ringers' Series Goes Where the Movie Couldn't

Rarely are adaptations able to supersede the original that inspired them, especially when their predecessor features the iconic filmmaking of David Cronenberg and a plot as sickening as Dead Ringers. This initial iteration is chillingly effective in portraying the downfall of the Mantle twins and representing the terrifying potential of codependent relationships. Its narrative is overwhelmingly effective but it lacks what the 2023 series embodies perfectly. In a story focusing on a singular relationship, this retelling showcases the impact of the twins on the world around them and vice versa, using their professions and the people who only serve as a distraction from each other to further emphasize just how sickening their love for one another is. It's a dreadful concept that lingers with viewers long after the series reaches its climax, punctuating its astounding psychological horror with scenes of animalistic violence worthy of the legendary director's filmography. The first film is a fine telling of this story, but by delving deeper into the core partnership and being unafraid to use the twin's world as a metaphor for the inconsolable anguish of their bond, this adaptation does so much more than the original ever could.

Dead Ringers is available to stream on Prime Video in the U.S.

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