With the exception of The Fly, David Cronenberg’s films have been practically unmarketable, too art-house for the gorehounds and too gory for the artsnobs. Videodrome, an early 80’s horror flick with a borderline direct-to-video budget, involves James Woods being devoured by his television and growing a second head. 1988’s Dead Ringers stars Jeremy Irons playing twin gynecologists who perform a reverse conjoined-twins-separation surgery. I’ll let your imagination run with that one.

That pattern changed in 2005 with A History of Violence, and his transition from little-known cult favorite to commercially viable visionary was furthered this year with Eastern Promises. Both films exhibit the patent Cronenberg style, but both are much more accessible than his earlier works.

Due to a happy coincidence, I watched both of these films back to back, the first on DVD and the second in the theater. Because of their strong resemblance (both star Viggo Mortenson, both deal with organized crime, and both involve sudden, shocking violence) I’m reviewing them together. This, I think, provides a unique perspective.

A History of Violence stars Viggo as Tom Stall, a quiet, unassuming diner owner in small-town America. When two scum-of-the-earth sociopaths walk in expecting more than just a cup of coffee, Tom springs to life and puts them both down with extreme prejudice. The resulting media frenzy over Tom’s heroics has an unforseen consequence, however. In rolls Carl Fogerty (played with villainous menace by Ed Harris), a one eyed member of the Irish mafia who is convinced that Tom Stall is someone else entirely, someone who is not nice, quiet, or unassuming, someone who took Fogerty’s eye out with barbed wire in a past life. This leads to the central question of the film: is Tom who he says he is, or does he have a history of violence? (see what I did there? Clever, huh?)

Eastern Promises stars Viggo as Nikolai Luzhin, a driver and bodyguard for a Russian mob boss in London. When a maternity nurse named Anna (Naomi Watts) delivers a baby to a dead prostitute, the young girl leaves behind a diary that inadvertently leads Anna to the mob boss and Nikolai. As tensions within the Russian mafia escalate and as Anna comes closer and closer to discovering the truth behind the prostitute’s death, Nikolai finds himself in the center of the brewing storm. This leads to the central question of the film: is Nikolai who he says he is, and has he made his promises to the ‘East’ or to the ‘West’? (ooooh, I’m on a roll today).

Cronenberg manages to infuse both films with a palpable sense of dread that is always lying there just beneath the surface. To say that one feels constantly unsettled would be an understatement. Even in the most mundane moments you can feel disaster just off the edge of the frame, waiting to erupt into the film like a boiling volcano. Cronenberg accomplishes this unease so effectively in two ways: unexpected violence and glacial pacing. Both films kick off with the former. Within 2 minutes of the opening credits, people have died brutally and graphically, and kudos to you if you manage not to flinch. Cronenberg is informing you that the world he’s inviting you into is not a safe one, and that bad things can happen suddenly and without warning. But then things slow down considerably, and given what’s just occurred the change in pace is quite unexpected. What’s on the screen is never dull, but Cronenberg takes his time introducing you to his characters, their families, and their lives. I’ve often heard this raised as a complaint, but it’s his strongest gift as a filmmaker. The restrained pace, combined with the violence you know is just around the corner, masterfully creates the aforementioned ‘unsettling.’ Cronenberg is still crafting horror films, albeit ones without giant man-flies and supernaturally exploding heads.

The violence, when it comes, is awkward and stumbling, the way it might look if two men really tried to kill one another with their bare hands. There is not a hint of choreography to be found, no stylish camera angles, no gravity-defying stuntwork. It is real and in the trenches and feels like a punch to the gut. Of particular note is the Russian bathhouse scene found at the end of Eastern Promises. Along with last years The Bourne Ultimatum, it is one of the most effective and stunning fight sequences I have ever witnessed.

Viggo Mortensen has come into his own as a talent of A-list caliber destined for a golden statuette down the line. His performance in Eastern Promises was good enough to warrant one, although Daniel Day-Lewis was too much of a force to be overcome this year. No matter. He’s easily broken the Aragorn typecasting that landed him in the subpar Hidalgo, and if he continues to pick risky projects like these, he’ll be guaranteed a slew of nominations in the future.

Cronenberg’s films are certainly an acquired taste, although with A History of Violence and Eastern Promises that taste is more easily acquired than before. Although not for the faint of heart, both films delve deep into the human condition and ask difficult, bloody questions. You just may not like the answers.