Analysis of Possessor: Brandon Cronenberg’s Body-Horror Descent Into Identity and Violence

Tasya Vos, the protagonist, prepares for her next contract killing much like a method actor — thoroughly studying her “character” and learning to mimic their behavior. But Tasya doesn’t just imitate another life — she lives it. She becomes both the actor and the executioner. And when she’s inside a host’s body, she feels everything the host feels.

It’s no surprise that such transitions in and out of another person’s body can cause a loss of self-identity. To measure how well an operative has returned to reality and retained self-awareness, there’s a standard test — one Tasya takes both at the beginning and the end of the film. But what if it’s the operative who changes?

Importantly, when Tasya takes over a host, she doesn’t erase the host’s original personality — she suppresses it. That personality remains present as a silent observer. From the host’s perspective, the intruder’s actions are experienced as their own. This becomes clear when Colin, the real host, briefly regains control and tries to explain the murder of his girlfriend and her father — in his mind, they attacked him, provoked him. Later, when Colin sees Tasya’s image in his head along with her memories, he realizes she’s somehow controlling him.

This is reminiscent of Inception, whose main theme was planting an idea in someone’s subconscious. In both films, a son wants control over an empire built by his father. But Cronenberg Jr. goes further: he asks what happens if the hostthemselves becomes infected with an idea — one that takes root in their mind like a worm (visualized literally in the device implanted into the host’s skull). In Inception, a similar process happens to Marion Cotillard’s character, who gradually loses her grip on reality — though Nolan doesn’t dwell on this transformation.

With Tasya, we see in detail the birth of her craving for violence and blood. This obsession stems from her profession — living through murders makes her hunger for blood (the story about Colin and cat litter serves as a metaphor). The skill she uses to inhabit a role for work turns into a necessity to “act” normal for her family life. Being an ordinary person becomes mere imitation, because at her core, she is now a predator.

One of the film’s most brilliant moments is how Cronenberg wordlessly shows Tasya’s awakening bloodlust. In the scene where she, in the body of a hostess, arrives at the lawyer’s office, she’s dressed in light blue (ironically symbolizing purity of intent). At the doorway, her gaze lingers on a decorative fountain — the camera shows a close-up of water streaming in a thin trickle.

Then she enters a red-walled elevator and stares at her crimson reflection in the glossy panels, her expression contemplative. Reaching the restaurant, she stops by a set of table knives and strokes them almost dreamily. The thought crystallizes — and moments later, she’s plunging a knife into the lawyer’s neck, a stream of scarlet blood flowing from the wound. The fountain and the elevator’s red walls fuse into this horrific image that Tasya cannot look away from. Brilliant.

The most likely reason is her shaky control over the host due to her emotional attachment to her family. At the critical moment, the host’s consciousness resists — driven by the survival instinct — and Tasya can’t overcome it, as she hasn’t shed her vulnerability.

We can’t know for certain how things went in previous missions. Even the technician’s comment that “it would be better if you pulled the trigger this time” shouldn’t be taken too literally — the tech is new to the job.

At the core of the attachment that Tasya’s boss, Girder, warns her about is love. This force — much like in Nolan’s Interstellar — both prevents Tasya from fully controlling the host and allows Colin to regain control.

This is underlined in the pivotal scene when Colin visits Tasya’s family. Colin’s exceptional level of control also reflects how deeply he loved his girlfriend — enduring humiliation from her father to stay close to her, even working a degrading job in his company.

Interestingly, Tasya addresses Colin as if identifying with him — just as her hosts did when she took them over.

Having embraced her predatory nature and cut ties with her family, Tasya finally becomes the perfect killer. This transformation is shown through the return of the test she always takes after leaving a host. At the film’s start, Tasya recalls killing a butterfly as a child and says she still can’t forgive herself for it. In the finale, she tells the exact same story — but this time, there’s no hint of regret.

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