You can always count on horror to test boundaries, so it’s no surprise that the genre has long explored the taboo of cannibalism. Cannibals are most often associated with exploitation horror, leading to a cannibal horror boon in the ’70s and early ’80s, thanks to Italian horror filmmakers like Umberto Lenzi, Ruggero Deodato, and Joe D’Amato. But as the Video Nasty craze came and went and time evolved the genre, so did the depiction of cannibalism.
The ’90s brought horror’s most common depiction of cannibals out of the jungle and into society, largely thanks to The Silence of the Lambs’ Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins). The Academy Award-winning feature adapted Thomas Harris’ 1988 novel and introduced a supporting character so fascinating that he overshadowed the film’s actual antagonist, Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine). Protagonist Clarice Starling gets assigned to interview the incarcerated cannibalistic serial killer in the hopes that Dr. Lecter will provide insight into their pursuit of Buffalo Bill. Clarice and the audience are surprised to find a rather couth and elegant psychiatrist with an affinity for manners and refined tastes. Hopkin’s line reading of “A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti,” as if describing a delectable fine dining meal, catapulted the character into the pop culture lexicon.
This marked the beginning of a dramatic shift for cannibalism in horror. The Antonia Bird-directed Ravenous, penned by Ted Griffin, drew from “The Colorado Cannibal” Alferd Packer, the Donner party, and Wendigo folklore to deliver a compelling and quirky horror-comedy cannibal western. The film sees an entire remote military outpost thrown into lethal turmoil upon the arrival of a stranger, F.W. Colqhoun (Robert Carlyle). Of course, it quickly descends into an eat-or-be-eaten situation. But the cannibalism here is less overtly grotesque and more of a biting critique of Manifest destiny, the belief that America was destined to conquer, settle, and expand from coast to coast. Colqhoun’s aggressive means of enlisting fellow cannibals or devouring those who stand in his way is the embodiment of this concept.
The turn of the century further evolved the cannibalistic metaphor with the rise of New French Extremity. Claire Denis’s divisive Trouble Every Day revolves around two couples at opposite stages of their relationships, connected by an insatiable, all-consuming sexual desire to consume human flesh. Neuroscientist Léo Semenau (Alex Descas) has given up much of his life and career to find a cure for his long-afflicted wife, Coré (Béatrice Dalle). The recently married Shane (Vincent Gallo) has a connection to Coré and seeks out Semenau once he, too, begins developing the urge to consume human flesh. Denis keeps the narrative thinly sketched and hard to grab ahold of while never shying away from graphic depictions of the feeding frenzies. Consume serves as the central word here, open to multiple interpretations. Trouble Every Day speaks to the consuming nature of love and carnal desires but suggests that perhaps modern society drives the inherent need to consume constantly for pleasure.
In many ways, Julia Ducournau’s Raw feels like a spiritual continuation of Denis’s film. It follows Justine (Garance Marillier), a lifelong vegetarian struggling with new impulses to consume raw flesh after undergoing a college hazing ritual. Justine’s new cannibalistic tendencies are a physical manifestation of how she sees herself. She’s terrified by her emerging feelings of sexual desire and an inability to control them; her cannibalism allows her to give in to her more primal instincts, a trait that runs in her family. The cannibalism heightens the emotions of an otherwise grounded coming-of-age story and acts as the embodiment of that awkward transition from adolescence to adulthood.
Jim Mickle‘s 2013 cannibal tale We Are What We Are, a remake of the 2010 Mexican horror film, used cannibalism to explore devout religious devotion and family tradition. The reclusive Parker family sees their world turned upside down when Mrs. Parker (Kassie DePaiva) unexpectedly succumbs to illness. It causes a rift as the surviving family members find themselves at odds with upholding their mother’s religious duties. Dad Frank (Bill Sage) wants his eldest to continue their grisly traditions, even callously pushing them toward violence while murdering those in his way. It creates the central conflict as the eldest daughters, Iris (Ambyr Childers) and Rose (Julia Garner), cannot decide whether to give in to their cannibalistic family rituals or start anew in society. Like Raw, the coming-of-age story gets a cannibal twist, with the teens taking back control of their lives by devouring flesh.
This year brought Fresh, a horror-comedy that uses cannibalism to get cheeky (pun intended) about the horrors of dating. Noa (Daisy Edgar-Jones) thinks she’s found Prince Charming in Sebastian Stan’s Steve after a meet-cute in a grocery store. A weekend getaway brings the startling realization that she’s become a featured course on the menu of a literal meat market. And his week brings Bones and All, an achingly tender coming-of-age story that once again seeks to normalize feelings of Otherness through cannibalism.
Whereas bygone eras of horror framed the cannibal as Other, contemporary horror assimilates cannibalism into modern culture. Cannibalism isn’t a taboo but a genre representation of sexual awakenings, upending the status quo, capitalist consumerism, meat markets made literal, or even acts of defiance. It’s a stand-in for monstrous feelings and a blank slate for metaphors and explorations of impulsive, uncontrollable emotions. Contemporary horror takes the proverbial saying “you are what you eat” to new, grotesque heights to explore the most vulnerable aspects of being human.
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