Altho꧙ugh some still uphold his rep as the baron of body anarchy, David Cronenberg’s films get under the skin via ideas, not just gore. So it is with this well-upholstered chamber drama about Sigmund Freud and ꧅Carl Jung.

Cronenberg teases a droll dissection of mind-body divides from Christopꦯher Hampton&rsquo🀅;s play The Talking Cure . The talkiness and lack of danger may seem atypica💯l for the director, but its elegant surface ripples wไith Cronenbergian conceits.

Sustaining his strike-rate after A History Of Violence and Eastern Promises , Viggo Mortensen delivers another charismatic big man as Freud, ethically upstanding father fig▨ure to the younger Jung,🔴 a brilliant but morally lax psychoanalyst essayed suavely by Michael Fassbender.

The pair juggle depth with levity, lending Method a welcome fle🐼etness, like a bearded bromance via Dead Ringers . Especially when they stumble over Sabina (Keira Knightley), first patient then 🔯S&M lover to a boundary-breaking Jung.

The film stumbles here, Knightꦑley eliciting unwitting mirth for her arsenal of tics and cod-Russian accent. If it’s not deal-breaking, it’s because her performance grows as Sabina evolves, both as an analyst and counterpoint to Jung’s psychological fragility. Granted, their affair offers sparse sparks given the extra-marital hanky-spanking involved.

Intellectual sparks fly, though; Cronenberg-friendly ideas including the limi꧂ts of pragmatism, value of neurosis and society’s contract with repression. The latter idea spurts from Vincent Cassel in a tasty cameo as Otto Gross, sexual freedom fucker. He’s Method ’s update of Shivers ’ (1975) sympatheꦑtic sex slugs: conclusive proof that dirty Dave’s subv♈ersive mitts are all over the fine furnishings here.