Compared to the grand spectacle style of practical effects and tragedy of The Fly, the demented surrealism of Videodrome, or even the sleazy, viral aspect of Rabid, the quiet nature of The Brood tends to make it one of David Cronenberg’s lesser talked about films. Upon initial release, on May 25 or June 1, 1979 (depending on whether you’re from the U.S. or Canada) Roger Ebert referred to the film as “el sleazo exploitation” that presented itself after a slow stretch of nothing happening. It’s horror, so that’s not entirely surprising, but he was wrong on every level. Like most of Cronenberg’s work, it’s story and drama that comes first, and the horror organically unfurls from it. In Cronenberg’s case, that horror is typically of the strange, body horror variety. It’s a personal film for Cronenberg, and its horror still resonates 40 years later.

Straightaway, The Brood introduces us to Frank Carveth (Art Hindle) and his soft spoken 5-year-old daughter Candice. Frank is in the midst of an embittered separation process from his estranged wife Nola (Samantha Eggar), a disturbed woman currently sequestered in the Somafree Institute and undergoing extensive therapy in the form of “Psychoplasmics.” Her psychotherapist, Hal Raglan (Oliver Reed), has developed an experimental process that allows his patients to let go of their suppressed emotions via physical manifestations on their body, weird growths and skin anomalies, to be vanquished and removed through Raglan’s talking cure/therapy. Frank is already skeptical of Hal, but he’s downright furious when Candice comes back from a weekend visitation with her mother covered in bruises and scratches. The violence escalates when those around Frank are murdered by way of pint-sized monstrous children.

The thing about Cronenberg’s movies, at least for me, is how they become more layered the more you watch. My first viewing of The Brood at a much younger age meant I was caught up in the weirdness of the “psychoplasmics.” The body-altering way of coping with emotional duress, and how Raglan’s practices seem to make things far worse for those under his care. As I got older, of course, I noticed how the raw pain of divorce was the actual centerpiece of the story, something that grew more profound with more viewings. It’s easy to see Frank’s barely restrained rage toward his wife and Raglan by extension, but the peripheral story of Juliana Kelly and Barton Kelly- and their reliance on alcohol 10 years after the dissolution of their marriage- brings new depth to the Carveth family’s pain. The Brood isn’t just about the destructive nature of divorce, but how it seems to take root in the children of divorce. Nola followed her parents’ footsteps, and so too, it seems, will Candice.

It makes sense; for all of the horror that the audience witnesses, Candice can’t escape it. When she’s with Frank, he’s often busy trying to solve the mystery of the murderous brood. When she’s with her mother, she comes back covered in bruises and shell shocked. Anywhere else usually results in a brutal murder right in front of her- her teacher, her grandmother. And finally, the brood keep her locked away as her parents fight it out one last time. There’s no safe space for Candice.

Of course, the culmination of this can be distilled into the shocking final moments of the film, which sees Nola reveal to Frank her physical manifestation of her rage. The monstrous brood is the offspring of Nola’s rage, but she’s so isolated and psychologically broken that she doesn’t quite grasp what’s happening. She lifts up her dress to reveal how these homicidal children have come to exist- Nola’s psychoplasmically-induced external womb. She births one in front of Frank, tearing it out from the fluid-filled sac, and thanks to Eggar’s instinct as an actress, licks the newborn clean like a cat.

The Brood is low budget, but it never really feels that way thanks to an impressive cast with Hindle, Eggar, and Reed. And an impressive crew, with talent like cinematographer Mark Irwin (Scream, New Nightmare, The Fly) and great score by frequent Cronenberg collaborator Howard Shore. It’s full of the shocking horror insanity that’s pure early Cronenberg but with timeless themes of broken relationships. Like a lot of great cinema, The Brood has withstood the test of time, grotesque rage babies and all.