Why Are Fictional Cannibals So Hot?

Picture Timothee Chalamet’s naked torso glistening with blood in Bones & All, or Garance Marillier’s Justine having a voracious seven minutes in heaven in the Julia DuCournau debut body horror Raw. Timothee Chalamet’s portrayal of Lee is equally lovable and dangerous, even though the red flags wave high - man eaters are notoriously bad at dating - you can’t help but fall slightly in love with this damaged drifter. Justine matches this energy, her flesh eating ways laced with purposeful eroticism. 

Following the release of Bones & All, Luca Guadagnino’s cannibal love story based on the Camille DeAngelis novel of the same name, online critics claimed that the film romanticises cannibalism and murder, but I believe the opposite to be true. Bones & All and Raw both ensure that ‘eating human’ parts of their films are viscerally vile: scenes filled with stretching skin and crunching bones that make you squirm at the sight. To read these films simply as an invite to murderous violence is to read them on a surface level, in the same way some blame game violence for acts of violence committed in real life. The archetype of the cannibal is much more rich with metaphor than simply a hankering for human flesh. 

The outsider status of the cannibal lends itself to breaking many other societal restrictions - by breaking the ultimate taboo of human consumption, the films are able to leave other prejudices at the door. A hunger for human flesh does not prejudice gender, no cannibal in these films state a preference. Maren and Lee share their experiences of eating people while giggling, as if discussing a sexual body count rather than their murderous conquests, and notably their types of victim vary throughout the film.

In many ways the cannibal and the vampire are very much alike, they are driven by their lust and bloodthirsty urges, becoming erotic as well as horrific. With vampires being notably queer coded, it’s worth considering that their flesh eating brethren, cannibals, are too. There’s an inherent bisexuality to those that consume people - a lack of gender bias over their meals - there is the potential for anyone to be eaten; there’s a potential for anyone to be shagged. 

___STEADY_PAYWALL___

Julia Ducournau’s debut Raw consistently pushes against gender binaries and raises questions of sexual identity too. The undoubtably stud-femme sister Alexia (Ella Rumpf) teached Justine the feminine art of waxing, but she also shows her how to slant her hips back so that she can pee standing up. Through Adrien (Rabah Nait Oufella), the love interest, Raw gives an most articulate depiction of bi-visibility as Adrien struggles to find peace with his feelings for Justine. He knows others will perceive him as straight despite years torment for his homosexuality - an issue plaguing bisexuals in recent years. 

Raw also answers a question we didn’t know we needed it answering: “Do cannibals fuck?” According to Raw, yes. But it is with great difficulty that they do not devour their lovers: Justine and Adrien’s aligned struggle of sexual desires and sexual identity give Raw a queer intimacy that prevents any heteronormative reading.

The cannibal cinematic universe is innately sensual, the wetness akin to visceral intimacy. Timothee Chalamet is often on screen with blood-stained lips, his chin wet with his last meal. Both Lee and Maren struggle with their identity as eaters, but Maren quickly cleans herself after their devouring while Lee often brandishes the blood on his face with a sense of pride. These are the moments where Lee appears at home in his own skin, and it’s this confidence that makes his blood glistening face incredibly hot.

Physical and emotional intimacy become intertwined when the cannibal is at the centre of the narrative. In order for Raw’s Adrien to be safe, Justine must be completely honest with her urges before her first sexual encounter with him. There can be no physical connection without first baring one’s deepest and darkest urgers.

Eaters in Bones & All can sniff each other out. It is this ability that allows Maren and Lee to find each other, two lonely outcasts with the same damage. They already know the worst each other is capable of, allowing them to sooth each other’s emotional scars. Above all else, Guadagnino’s body horror odyssey demonstrates how being vulnerable with some is simultaneously terrifying and wonderful. 

“What all these characters have in common, besides their cannibalistic urges, is oozing sexuality. But why is cannibalism, the greatest taboo in society, often portrayed with such sensuality?”

Cannibalism is rife with double entendres - gorging on flesh being associated with graphic sexuality makes complete sense - but getting ‘under someone's skin’ is a perfect metaphor for emotional vulnerability. Whether for better or worse, Justine, Maren and Lee must show their true selves if they are to experience the love they crave. While we can delight in the devilish seduction of these cannibal features, what adds to the sensuality of all of these depictions is the possibility to be seen, emotional scars and all, and ultimately be accepted for them. These characters leave us hungry for a type of intimacy as raw as peeling back skin. 

Words: Billie Rebecca Walker