Humane

The weight of a surname can be a heavy thing to carry, especially when that name is Cronenberg. In the world of cinema, that name functions as a brand—a promise of exploding heads, mutated flesh, and psychological scarring that requires a very specific type of therapy. But with Humane, Caitlin Cronenberg (daughter of David, sister of Brandon) decides to pivot. Instead of the biological nightmares her father pioneered, she’s interested in a different kind of rot: the curdled morality of the ultra-wealthy. I watched this on a Tuesday night while trying to fix a leaky kitchen faucet with a pair of pliers and a YouTube tutorial, and honestly, seeing the York family descend into madness made my plumbing disaster feel like a relaxing day at the spa.

The World’s Worst Family Reunion

We find ourselves in a near-future that feels uncomfortably close to our own social media feeds. The environment has finally checked out, and the global government has issued a polite but firm request: we need to lose 20% of the population to keep the lights on. To make this palatable, they’ve gamified death with the "Department of Euthanasia," offering a fat check to the families of those who "enlist."

Enter the Yorks. Charles York, a retired news icon, invites his four adult children to his brutalist mansion for a dinner that was never going to end well. The kids are a delightful cross-section of modern entitlement: Jared (Jay Baruchel), a neoliberal talking head; Rachel (Emily Hampshire), a pharmaceutical executive who’s probably responsible for half the world’s problems; Noah (Sebastian Chacon), the adopted black sheep struggling with addiction; and Ashley (Alanna Bale), an aspiring actress who’s mostly just there for the vibes. When Charles announces that he and his wife have signed up for the program, the dinner takes a sharp turn from awkward to homicidal.

The twist? Charles’s wife chickens out and vanishes. But the D.O.E. contractor, played with a terrifyingly mundane "just doing my job" energy by Uni Park, doesn't care. The government has two doses of life-ending drugs and two checks to hand out. They need two bodies by dawn. If the mom isn't there, the kids have to decide which one of them fills the vacancy. It’s basically Succession if Logan Roy decided to turn the kids into Soylent Green.

Bureaucracy with a Body Count

What makes Humane work in our current cultural moment isn't the sci-fi window dressing; it’s the satire of bureaucracy. We live in an era of automated customer service and faceless corporate mandates, and Uni Park’s character, Bob, is the ultimate manifestation of that. He’s not a slasher villain; he’s a middle manager with a clipboard and a lethal injection. There’s something deeply unsettling about watching a government official politely wait in the foyer while a family tries to murder each other to settle a quota.

Jay Baruchel is the MVP here, leaning into his frantic, high-pitched energy to play a man who can justify literally anything as long as it fits his political brand. Watching him debate the "utility" of his siblings' lives while sweating through an expensive suit is a highlight. Emily Hampshire is equally great, shedding her Schitt’s Creek quirkiness for a cold, calculating desperation.

The film stays mostly in one location, which helps crank up the claustrophobia. Caitlin Cronenberg, working from a script by Michael Sparaga, manages to make this house feel like a tomb. It’s shot with a cold, sterile precision by Douglas Koch, emphasizing the harsh angles of the mansion that mirror the sharp edges of the characters’ personalities.

A Leaner Kind of Horror

For those expecting the "body horror" associated with the family name, you might be disappointed—or relieved. There are no telepathic duels or sentient VHS tapes here. The horror is purely situational and social. It’s the dread of realizing that the people who raised you, or the siblings you grew up with, would trade your life for theirs in a heartbeat if the "optics" were right.

That’s not to say it isn’t bloody. When the knives come out (literally), the film doesn't blink. But it’s messy, awkward violence—the kind of violence committed by people who have never held a weapon in their lives. The York siblings fight like toddlers with a trust fund, and it’s both pathetic and captivating.

There’s a bit of a struggle in the final act where the film tries to reconcile its cynical satire with a more traditional thriller climax, and the pacing wobbles as a result. The logic of the D.O.E.’s arrival and the rules they follow feel a bit flimsy if you think about them for more than five minutes, but the film moves fast enough that you’re usually too busy wondering who’s going to get stabbed next to care about the logistics of near-future government protocols.

Humane is a sharp, mean-spirited little thriller that fits perfectly into our current "eat the rich" cinematic diet. While it doesn't quite reach the heights of something like The Menu or Ready or Not, it provides a solid, cynical look at how quickly civility evaporates when the survival of the 1% is on the line. It's a confident debut for Caitlin Cronenberg, proving she can build tension without relying on her father's toolkit. If you’ve ever sat through a holiday dinner wishing you could just disappear, this might be the cathartic (if dark) watch you need. Just maybe don't watch it with your siblings.