Hobbit cannibals: THE CANNIBAL IN THE JUNGLE (Simon George, 2015)

As a general rule, I am not a big fan of “mockumentaries” – if you’re making stuff up, then why not just describe it as fiction? And if you are a channel like Animal Planet which makes factual documentaries about (real) fauna and flora for its seventy million viewers, it seems at least deceptive if not actively fraudulent to start showing made up stuff as if it is a “documentary”. This is not the first time they’ve done it; they had previously tried to make us believe they had found evidence of dragons and mermaids. So an untrue ‘true-crime’ documentary about a fake cannibal locked up for supposed cannibalism which was actually carried out by an extinct species of hobbits seemed pretty tame to the Ethics Department of Animal Planet I guess.

I should concede that some of the classics of cannibal texts are mockumentaries or “found footage” inventions. Many of the Italian ‘cannibal boom” films attempted to appear as factual records, particularly the classic Cannibal Holocaust, for which the director, Ruggero Deodata, secreted away the actors to make it appear they had been killed, then had to produce them in court to avoid facing  homicide charges. More recently, District Nine, Ghoul and Long Pigs have all made somewhat desultory attempts to persuade us that we were watching the actual killing and eating of humans by humans.

In this week’s offering, The Cannibal in The Jungle, the director Simon George presents a feature-length ‘true-crime’ special about an American scientist accused of murdering and consuming the remains of his fellow explorers while on an expedition in 1970s Indonesia. The murder/cannibalism case is told through interviews with an Australian anthropologist Richard Hoernboeck (played by Scottish actor Jim Sturgeon with a broad Australian accent), who says he found evidence of a tribe of very small hominids which he calls hobbits, and subsequently chose to investigate the murder/cannibalism case, 25 years after it happened. He tells us that in 1977, an American ornithologist was convicted of killing and cannibalising two colleagues in the jungles of Indonesia while on a quest to study eagles, as well as hoping to find a supposedly extinct owl. Instead, Dr Timothy Darrow, branded ‘The American Cannibal’ by the press during his trial for murder and cannibalism, claimed in his (unsuccessful) defence that they had been attacked by a lost species of early humans. These hobbits, he said, were responsible for the murder and consumption of his friends. Nobody believed him. Cannibalism is easier to believe than hobbits.

In fact, the remains of a species matching Darrow’s description were found in those jungles of Indonesia in 2003 by an anthropologist from Wollongong University, although his name was Mike Morwood (a hobbit name if ever I heard one). In what is now regarded as one of the most important anthropological finds ever, a team of scientists discovered the bones of an entirely new species of human, one that stood only 43 inches or 110cm tall. Homo floresiensis (popularly called Flores Man or more popularly Hobbits) lived on the island for perhaps over a million years before going extinct. Some recent research suggests that a tribe of the hominins known as Homo erectus became isolated on this remote Indonesian island, perhaps a million years ago, and evolved a dramatically smaller body size.

But did they really go extinct? An indigenous tribe on the Indonesian island of Flores, where the remains of the ‘hobbits’ were discovered, have their own accounts of little wild men that climb trees and walk on two legs. They also describe them as cannibals. And according to their legends, they may never have died out at all. This story claims to follow Hoernboeck’s expedition into the jungle of Flores, Indonesia, seeking to discover if hobbits still exist, whether Timothy Darrow’s ill-fated expedition really encountered the supposedly extinct creatures, and if the ‘American Cannibal’ was therefore innocent of the crimes for which he was convicted more than three decades previously.

The local people of the island, the Lio, claim that the hobbits were around until very recently, and may still be hiding out in the forest. In the fake doco, they are shown suggesting that they would kidnap and eat children, although being a different species to Homo sapiens, I suppose this would not technically be cannibalism.

The program is ingeniously done. Hoernboeck, the modern-day anthropologist, shows purportedly real video of his interviews with the imprisoned Darrow (played by Richard Brake, who was in Game of Thrones and Hannibal Rising, so there’s a giveaway for the alert horror fan), and his expedition to trace the journey on which Darrow supposedly found the hobbits. Interspersed with this, we are shown what we are told is a reenactment of the original expedition by Darrow and his friends/victims. The implication is that we can believe the rest is real, because they told us what was staged. We move to the present to see the anthropologist tracking down Darrow’s tape recorder which contains the taped call of the hobbits, then eventually the actual film taken by Darrow that proved his innocence but, alas, not until after he died in the brutal Kerobokan prison.

With a modicum of willing suspension of disbelief, it’s actually pretty convincing, and quite sad, unless we keep reminding ourselves that the whole thing is a fake. Those who watched it when it first came out, unless they recognised the Night King or the war criminal who ate Hannibal’s sister, did not discover that it was all fictional until the very end, when there is a (very) short statement. Most viewers probably wouldn’t even have noticed it.

What I found interesting is the depiction of the totally credible outrage of the Indonesian authorities, furious that an American would eat the Indonesian guide. Yet when the Flores locals are shown talking about the hobbits capturing and eating their children, there is inaction. Nature is red in tooth and claw! Animals eat each other, and eat people if they can, so if some unidentified ape ate your child, well, that’s unfortunate. But anthropocentric ideology denies our animality, so for a human to eat a human still manages to shock. The false binary of human/animal has led science to tie knots in the language, with some calling the hobbits “ape-men” and one learned anthropologist, Gregory Forth, calling his book about them Between Ape and Human. Like this documentary, the idea of a lacuna between apes and humans is fictional. We are a species of great ape, and our DNA is 98.8% identical to chimps.

Dr. Darrow’s supposed cannibalism was more horrific than nature’s mundane bloodbaths, not because he was genetically similar to the victim, but because he was a post-doctoral scientist, a ‘civilised’ man. If either party to slaughter, the one wielding or the one enduring the blade, can be defined as ‘animal’, all bets are off. The cannibals we consider in this blog are simply better than most people at dehumanising, objectifying the other.

The full movie is available, at the time of writing, at Daily Motion.

Is Oprah a cannibal?

Well, apparently not.

The claim has been doing the rounds since a silly post on X in February (now archived).

The claim was made in response to an online request for people to share their fave Oprah moment “in honor of Oprah Winfrey’s 70th birthday”.

The post managed to gain some serious attention:

Even the poster didn’t try to persuade people that it was true.

“crying, why are ppl actually believing this … y’all believe anything”

That is certainly true. You may recall an almost identical campaign a few years back which claimed that Anne Hathaway had left evidence of cannibalism in a house she sold in 2013. This turned out to have been a “sociological study.”

Oprah has a history of media interviews in which she discusses food. Recently, she extolled the idea of using medications for losing weight, revealing that she has been using such drugs. Who can say that a high protein, low carb diet based on the cuisine of Dr Hannibal Lecter might not prove effective? Have you ever met a fat cannibal?

In 2008, Oprah went on a three week “vegan cleanse”. At the end of that brief period, she wrote

“At the end of the 21 days, I could not declare myself vegan or even vegetarian. But I am, for sure, more mindful of my choices. I’m eating a far more plant-based diet.”

Maybe giving up meat for health, environmental or ethical reasons could go beyond just avoiding human flesh, for everyone’s health?

MALI – alleged cannibalism by soldiers (warning – graphic images)

Videos are circulating on social networks such as TikTok showing an alleged case of the Malian army practising cannibalism.

A soldier, dressed in an army uniform, is seen gutting his dead opponent. In the second part of the video, he roasts the victim’s liver over a fire and expresses his intention to eat it.

The soldier filming this is holding severed fingers as a souvenir. The video is believed to have been filmed near the Mauritanian border in 2022 and is currently under investigation by the Malian army. Sources from Mali’s security forces and human rights organisations that spoke to Radio France International believe that the video may have been recorded in the town of Sokolo in south-central Mali in June 2022, or the village of Mourdiah in May 2023.

Speaking in local Malian Bambara language, the man says he is going to eat the victim’s liver, according to comments and media reports on the footage. A surrounding group of men in fatigues laugh as he cuts through the corpse.

Mali’s armed forces have ordered an investigation into the video. The army chief said in a statement in July that this was a “rare atrocity akin to cannibalism”, adding that the act did not align with the Sahelian West African nation’s military values.

Malian General Staff statement announcing an investigation into the first cannibalism video 

Rights groups and the United Nations have repeatedly accused Malian soldiers of serious abuses, including executions and torture, committed against civilians suspected of collaborating with jihadist groups that have been waging an insurgency in the Sahel since 2012. The army has always denied any wrongdoing.

Reports of abuses and atrocities against civilians by the Malian Armed Forces have steadily increased since the 2022 coup that saw a military junta take control of the country, with Russian Wagner Group (now Africa Corps) mercenaries hired by the junta accused of jointly committing massacres of unarmed civilians with the Malian military.

Despite the junta’s hiring of Wagner to replace the UN peacekeeping and EU training mission it expelled, it has lost control of growing parts of northern Mali to Tuareg separatists, Islamist fighters of al-Qaeda affiliate Support Group for Islam and Muslims (Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wa al-Muslimin or JNIM), and Islamic State’s Sahel Province.

Hundreds of thousands have been killed and millions displaced as militants have seized territory and foreign-backed armies retaliated. The failure to restore security has contributed to two military coups in Mali, two in neighbouring Burkina Faso, and one in Niger since 2020.

The video was trending on X, but has since been removed for violating the platform’s rules. 

“What do you collect?” THE MAN WHO COLLECTED FOOD (Matthew Roth, 2010)

Written, directed and produced by Matthew Roth, The Man who Collected Food (also released as Cannibal Collector) is a parable of modern consumerist society.

Miguel (Mike N. Kelly) is the unexceptional, almost unnoticeable man next door (like most modern cannibals), who is quietly (or sometimes noisily) proud of his collection. What he collects is food, and he hoards it in cupboards and on display shelving. Like any serious collector (think of Barbie collections or comic books), it is definitely not for consumption.

He carefully stores his purchases in their original packaging, knowing that they would be ruined as collector’s items if he were to open them or, heaven forbid, eat them! Like any obsession, collecting takes over his life.

To survive without spoiling his collection, he eats people. He won’t open any of his food packets, but has a cold-room full of abducted humans, collected according to ethnicity, some already cooked, others tied and gagged and awaiting prep, which involves unfastening them and then chasing and killing them with various fun toys like mediaeval maces.

“Mother always told me to never play with my food. But I don’t think she know how much fun it really is.”

It’s just his quirk, and his neighbours are presented as even crazier than him. There’s the deer hunters, identical father and son in matching lumberjack plaid, and then there’s Kelvin, who runs around with a shotgun shooting at aliens (and who is covered in what he claims are bits of their green brains).

Kelvin sums up the film’s theme:

“I believe that there’s something a little strange in all of us. Whether we’d like to admit it or not, there’s just that one thing we don’t want anyone else to know about.”

Miguel attends a group therapy meeting for people with traumas and more common addictions like sex and cigarettes. He tells the group he collects food, which doesn’t seem that big a deal, until he adds,

“In order to keep my collection in mint condition, I have to resort to cannibalism.”

He tells them he can’t eat “animals” because they are food, and so belong in his collection. The facilitator asks him how that is logical, in that people are also food, at least to cannibals, but he points out that people are not food to other people.

“They don’t package or can people, if they had people-sized packages, then you’d have a better argument.”

She might have had better luck pointing out that people are animals too. Instead, she announces that they are all going to go to his home to open all his packets as therapy, and that makes him really mad. The middle of the film is a long, slow-motion sequence of him killing all the people in the group, and then the cleaner who finds the bodies.

His secret is discovered by the deer hunters who decide to hunt him, until he kills and eats them, then hears a phone message about a friend who keeps escaping death in various accidents and is called “the luckiest man in the world”.

Taking the essentialist argument seriously, Miguel decides that eating such a man might allow him to incorporate that luck, and finally find what he has been searching for: “that package of Ranch Wall Rice with Chicken and Vegetables”. Eating the “luckiest man in the world” will, he hopes, make him lucky.

Taking obsession to its logical conclusion, The Man Who Collected Food is a black comedy (or red comedy given the amounts of gore) with a serious message; a critique of modern consumerism.

“It’s all because I’m different. Sometimes I just wish I could collect comics or coins or anything – it has to be food, food, food!”

Our appetites are incited by marketing and advertising, while at the same time we are told that the Earth is being destroyed by our voracious cravings. We are insatiable, and yet we are ashamed of that. As Dylan said,

“If my thought-dreams could be seen, they’d probably put my head in a guillotine,
but it’s all right Ma, it’s life and life only!”

The script is somewhat feeble and the acting varies between wooden and histrionic. The film earned a respectable 71% “fresh” on Rotten Tomatoes, even though there are no reviews listed. But nonetheless, it’s entertaining and funny, the theme music by Daniel Alcheh is terrific, and the gore hounds will appreciate the amount of carnage. And it actually has a lot to say about obsession, greed, consumerist voracity, and the illogical cultural binaries of edibility and abhorrence. Worth a look, if you can find it.

Party at Donner Lake

A keen-eyed Cannibal Studies student spotted this sign on the Interstate 80 in California recently.

The lake is named after the Donner Party, a group of Midwestern pioneers who were forced to spend the winter of 1846–47 in the Sierra Nevada mountain range. They became snowbound in the bitter winter that year, and famously turned to cannibalism to survive. Only 48 of the original 87 members of the party endured and made it to California.

The best part of the sign is the symbol below it of a knife and fork. One presumes this was meant to advise weary travellers that there were restaurant facilities at the Lake, but it has caused some hilarity on Facebook where the poster tagged the picture,

Nicely played CalTrans, nicely played..

Many of the comments (and there are well over 3,000 of them when last checked) gloried in the cannibalism theme:

California Department of Transportation public information officer Steve Nelson said that there are 38 restaurants past the exit, “so the sign is appropriate to notify motorists, but [we] also understand the irony and that it may be considered insensitive.”

Well, the sensitive can always drive straight past the Donner Lake exit. But if they drive 8 miles beyond this sign, and take exit 188, they’ll see this one instead,

Nothing improves the appetite like a picnic in the snow.

What would you do? HUNGER (Steven Hentges, 2009)

People who automatically flinch at the idea of cannibal movies (or cannibalism generally) give a little mental shrug when the subject turns to starvation. What would you do if you had no food, nothing containing any life-giving nourishment except other human bodies? The honest answer to that is, usually, ‘I don’t know, and I hope never to find out’.

Several films considered in this blog have looked into what we might call “survival cannibalism”, a sub-group of the wider “castaway” genre—films like Hitchcock’s Lifeboat—which derive from the narrative of Robinson Crusoe. The most famous in Cannibal Studies is still Alive, which retold the story of the young footballers who survived a plane crash in the Andes, only to discover that the search had been called off and there was literally no food in the snow, except the bodies of their fellow passengers (most of whom were their friends). It was recently rebooted in Spanish in Bayona’s La sociedad de la nieve. Such stories are contemporary versions of the old shipwreck stories which motivated much of the cannibalism narratives of early modern Europe, horrifying the Europeans, when they weren’t accusing the colonialised of the same thing. A classic story is the whaling ship Essex, the wreck of which inspired Moby Dick. The film In the Heart of the Sea follows that story – what happened to them after the ship sunk? Well, weeks in a lifeboat with nothing but each other for company and no food…

Then we have the many, many post-apocalyptic stories, starting with Soylent Green, in which overpopulation and climate change have led to the recycling of dead people into delicious crackers. Other classics of this genre include Delicatessen, We Are The Flesh, Cadaver, and of course the bleak glimpse of the future, The Road. Such disasters can be intentionally created, such as Stalin’s famine in the Ukraine, during which the starving ate their own relatives. In the USA, the classic case of starvation cannibalism is the Donner Party.

This week’s film, Hunger, explores the same question: what would you do? If you were starving, what, or who, would you eat? An apocalypse is not the fault of the victims, and surviving any way you can, feeding yourself and your family, is difficult to criticise. It may still be gross to some (or most) people, but it is nevertheless, in some ways, understandable.

But this film complicates it by taking away the excuses of an indifferent nature or a catastrophic global event. In Hunger, there is no apocalypse. The characters are just five people who wake to find themselves in a dark dungeon, with no idea how they got there. It’s a cistern, a larger version of the abandoned well in which Catherine Martin found herself trapped in Silence of the Lambs. And, of course, like Catherine, there is no food being catered. Science hates anecdotal evidence, so in this film we have a scientist who has gathered ‘ordinary’ people in extraordinary circumstances, just to see what would happen. You may remember Mason Verger boasting of a similar experiment in Hannibal:

“I adopted some dogs from the shelter. Two dogs that were friends. I had them in a cage together with no food and fresh water. One of them died hungry. The other had a warm meal.”

They have access to four barrels of water, a toilet (of sorts, but only four toilet rolls) and a day-clock that marks off 30 days, the length of time the human body can survive without food.

On the second day, they find on their water barrels a scalpel, an instrument that Jordan, the doctor played by Lori Heuring (Mulholland Drive), calls “a human carving knife”. It soon becomes clear what that is for, and it ends up (after much discussion) being used for just that purpose – to kill and butcher each other.

We find out as they talk that they seem to have been chosen because they have all taken a life – one killed her abusive partner, another in a hold-up gone wrong, another through euthanasia. Doctors like Jordan handle life and death every day. But the scientist wants to know, are they willing to kill out of hunger alone?

Then there is that scientist who kidnapped them; we find that he had been a young boy who survived a car crash: we later discover he cannibalised his mother’s corpse to stay alive. Now he watches his captives, and takes careful notes.

He shares their predilection for taking life: when a couple come to have sex in the quiet country area and hear the pleas for help from their oubliette, he shoots them with tranquiliser darts and pushes their car into the river, but not until they wake up. He thereby reveals a sadistic streak, a psychopathy, or at least a disavowal of empathy, common in scientists who experiment on mice, rats, dogs, monkeys and other animals. Most of us react to seeing other sentient beings in pain by initiating an empathetic response called resonance in the inferior frontal gyrus and the inferior parietal lobule of our brains. Recent research in which rats were given electric shocks and responded similarly both to pain and to watching other rats in pain showed that this ability is not restricted to humans, and in fact may be better developed in rats than in some scientists. Like Descartes torturing dogs or Josef Mengele experimenting on camp inmates, a psychopathic scientist can justify any cruelty for the sake of research.

Cannibalism, the act of killing and eating another, is sometimes considered transcendent (by the cannibal), with one character making reference to cannibalism as a spiritual pursuit:

“Human flesh is essence. It captures a person’s soul!”

The scientist likes this idea, because he ate his mother, so it’s comforting to think that he now contains her soul. But the main theme of the film remains starvation cannibalism, in this case forced on the victims, as it was in the Ukrainian famines or the Nazi death camps. The counterpart of this cannibalism is happening in their bodies. As Dr Jordan tells us, the process of starvation progresses as “your body basically cannibalises itself.” The alternative is what the scientist hopes to witness, the choice to “become a savage”.

Jordan, the doctor, is the only character who refuses to consider cannibalism. Like “the Man” in The Road, she wants to “carry the fire”, and that anthropocentric ideal does not include eating humans. The others spurn such naïve ideology:

“You can hold on to your precious humanity. We’re doing what we have to do to survive.
And your boyfriend? He tasted surprisingly delicious.”

Cannibalism is usually depicted by society as a form of madness or monstrosity involving a devolution from civilised to savage, from enlightened to barbaric. Unless we pay someone else to do it for us—then it’s called animal husbandry.

The film was produced for a tiny $625,000, so the special effects and production time are limited (except for the buckets of gore), but it is still extremely effective. Hunger was released on Fangoria’s Frightfest DVD line, the same distributor as the (reworked) Armin Meiwes story Grimm Love. It does not seem to have received wide distribution, which is a shame, as it is well made, well acted (particularly Lori Heuring, who is quite incandescent) and is well worth your while chasing down. Moreover, it covers a crucial question that becomes more urgent as the world goes to hell in a handbasket – what would you do?

Dinner with Dahmer—Ariana Grande’s cannibalism fantasy

Ariana Grande managed to raise some serious eyebrows when she was asked on Penn Badgley’s podcast in June 2024 whom she would most like to have dinner with. She replied:

“Jeffrey Dahmer’s pretty fascinating. I really wish I could have met him.”

The mother of Tony Hughes, one of the men Jeffrey Dahmer murdered, criticised Grande last week, calling the singer “sick in her mind.” Tony’s sister, Barbara, told TMZ that she hopes Grande will apologise for her comments, and both shared disappointment in the singer’s apparent lack of empathy for the victims’ families. “Unfortunately, until it happens to her and her family, she just doesn’t know what we have been through,” Barbara said.

Jeffrey Dahmer murdered seventeen boys and young men between 1978 and 1991, mainly people of colour, and after his arrest spoke freely about consuming body parts from some of them.

According to Grande, her fascination with Dahmer began “years ago before the [Netflix] Dahmer series,” and she had mentioned it to young fans when she was a Nickelodeon star.

In the podcast, Grande suggested she would like to meet Dahmer, but “maybe with a third party or someone involved. I have questions,” she added.

Grande is a big deal in the world of celebs. She had reportedly sold over 85 million records and accrued 98 billion streams (so far), making her one of the most-streamed artists of all time. She was the most-streamed female act of the 2010s and has the second most songs with over a billion streams for a woman. Grande also has a massive social media following; with over 380 million followers, she is the sixth-most-followed individual on Instagram and one of the most-subscribed and most followed musicians on YouTube and Spotify.

I guess that keeps her busy, because honestly there is so much Dahmerabilia on the web that having dinner with him would be unnecessary (and messy, since he had his head caved in by another prisoner in 1994). Ryan Murphy made a hugely popular re-enactment of the case for Netflix in 2022, although it had been done before and rather well by Jeremy Renner (playing Dahmer) in a movie made by David Jacobson in 2002. Then there are the tape recordings – his defence team released their tapes of interviews with him a few weeks after the Ryan Murphy doco went to air. In 2023, Dahmer’s dad released his own interview tapes together with home movies etc, on Fox Nation. In prison, before his death, Dahmer was open and transparent about his activities with a range of interviewers. Not sure how much was left to uncover over a nice dinner of fava beans and a big Amaroni?

Some of the news reports have rather pompously asked if her preference for a cannibal for dinner means that she is therefore a cannibal herself? Well sorry guys, but we happen to know that Ariana is a vegan, and has been since watching the documentary Forks Over Knives in 2013. Ariana told a UK paper:

“I love animals more than I love most people, not kidding.”

She insists that (besides being kinder to animals and better for the environment) going vegan has improved her health immensely.

“The way I’m eating now has actually helped even out my blood sugar. As some of you guys may know, I’ve struggled with awful hypoglycemia for my whole life and it’s improved a ton since I changed my eating habits.”

Would Ariana eat a human at her dinner with Dahmer? About as likely as her eating a cow or a pig!

The Harkonnen cannibals: DUNE 2 (Denis Villeneuve, 2024)

Are the Harkonnens cannibals In Dune 2? Not exactly, but the harem of women maintained by Feyd-Rautha do eat people. Sadly, the film is surprisingly coy about it.

Canadian director Denis Villeneuve’s film Dune: Part Two was the second-biggest earner of (at least the first half of) 2024, taking in $711 million so far worldwide. It is a direct continuation of 2021’s Dune, and if you haven’t seen that yet, I suspect this one will make little sense, unless you’ve read Frank Herbert’s 1965 novel on which both are based.

Dune established a historical mythology set eight thousand years in the future, in which an interstellar alliance is ruled by ‘Great Houses’ who are nominally beholden to the Emperor (played by Christopher Walken), but are often at war with him or each other. Human civilisation has abandoned computers (fear of AI) and must use Melange or “Spice”, a highly addictive hallucinogen, to enable pilots to navigate through “folded space”. The Spice comes from a planet called Arrakis, which is therefore much in demand by imperial powers.

In the first movie, the Atreides were made rulers of the planet, but then were invaded and butchered by the wonderfully evil House of Harkonnen. However, the Atreides heir Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet, who is not unacquainted with cannibal movies) and his mother escape the destruction and join the local desert people, the Fremen. These guys are tough nuts, able to bring down even the Emperor’s most vicious special forces, and they ride around the planet on “worms” – huge underground creatures that can swallow anyone and anything they find. The worms are attracted by anything that is making regular sounds. Oh, and they produce the spice as their shit.

Dune 2 delves deeper into the culture of the House of Harkonnen, who believe they have killed off all the Atreides. Like the simplest monsters, they are portrayed as ruthless and devoid of morality, and most are more than a little psychotic.

They are all bald for some reason, but their main motivations are cruelty and torture. Particularly the nephew of Baron Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgård), Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler, but nothing like Elvis in this movie), who keeps the harem of hungry cannibal women.

The Harkonnens kill capriciously and indulge in brutal pleasures, like making slaves fight to the death in the arena; they are hundredth century Roman emperors. We learn that Feyd-Rautha murdered his mother and now is the favourite of his uncle, the Baron. The ‘uncle and nephew’ thing is honestly a bit of a worn homophobic trope.

But the bit that interests us about him (in this cannibalism blog) is his harem of cannibalistic women. The film is a critique (intentionally or not) of white colonialism (particularly the evil Harkonnens, but also the Atreides and the Emperor) and the way it controls its subjects through the mythology of religion, in this case, messianic tales spread by an exclusive sisterhood called the Bene Gesserit, who use mind control techniques to persuade the colonised (the fierce, warrior race of Fremen) that their leader is coming, a white saviour from beyond their world. Paul does not believe any of this, but he lets his fundamentalist supporters fall for it.

Cannibalism has long been used as an ideological tool both by colonists (the savages accused of being subhuman cannibals like the Troglodytes in Bone Tomahawk) and the colonised, who see the invaders as predators appropriating the land, resources and bodies of the native peoples. Disappointingly, considering the pains the director goes to paint the Harkonnens as irredeemable psychopaths, we never understand them to be indulging in human flesh themselves, although it would have been an ideal metaphor for the way they rape and pillage the planets they control. Maybe Villeneuve felt the ghost of Frank Herbert would come and haunt him.

Feyd-Rautha seems to keep his women more like pets than concubines, calling them his “darlings” and killing various unfortunate slaves to feed them, as well as a flunky on the starship because, you know, they hadn’t been fed on the voyage.

Frank Herbert’s treatment of his characters was rather more nuanced in the books, in which he did not include any cannibalism, sadly. The inclusion of Feyd-Rautha’s harem of cannibals in Dune: Part Two seems a bit of an afterthought, or perhaps the script writers had some grand ideas which ended up being cut. They appear in one scene and for a few seconds, with no backstory. The end result is that the cannibals seem to be there just to enhance our perception of the dynasty’s barbarity.

Despite the rather superficial appearance of cannibal women, there is plenty here to entertain students of anthropocentrism; questions about what it is to be human, to be animal, to be civilised. The animal symbolism is everywhere; the worms, for example, are representations of nature—indifferent, insentient predators of immeasurable power who can, however, be tamed by humans, although their exploitation remains perilous. The bad guys with their bald heads and degenerate ways are depicted in animal forms—the Baron is bloated and presented as porcine, bathing in mud for much of the film, while Feyd-Rautha is reptilian—smooth, slimy and lethal.

The cannibal women are somewhere between aliens from X-Files and characters from pre-woke films like Freaks. Are they human? We never find out.

The film scores 92% fresh on the tomatometer, meaning most critics loved it. The visual effects are spectacular and should really be seen on the big screen, the acting ranges from brilliant to adequate, the battles are spectacular, and Hans Zimmer couldn’t write a bad score if he was paid to do so.  But the trivialisation of the cannibalism left me hungry for more.

The model and the cannibals: Gabriela Rico Jimenez

There are tendencies, dispositions, that characterise each era, each year, sometimes each day. Call them spiritus mundi or the zeitgeist, they appear to us in the media of the time – never more so than now, when we can express instant expression and instant outrage on social media. The current trend seems to be about oppressive elites who are manipulating, enslaving, sometimes consuming us. On the ‘right’ this is sometimes expressed as “the Deep State”, on the ‘left’ it is variously called capitalist exploitation or racist colonialism.

A story that has been doing the rounds for a decade has recently gone (a bit) viral again this month after a podcast called Mexico Unexplained revisited the story of Gabriela Rico Jiménez, a 21-year-old model from Mexico who disappeared some 15 years ago after raging against the machine outside a fancy hotel in Monterrey Nuevo Leon. Jiménez is usually described as a “supermodel” although there is little evidence of that in Google searches. But then again, if she has been “disappeared” by the elites against whom she railed, then they would have made sure to delete her history as well, n’est pas? The Daily Mail rediscovered the story on June 1 2024 and brought it back to life:

Anyhow, she made some interesting if somewhat mystifying accusations:

“I wanted my freedom. Monterrey freed me but it cost me a lot of work. I was in Mexico City for a year and four months. All this began in mid-2001. I barely remember. They were young and powerful, and they killed them. I’ve been knocking on doors. What I wanted was my freedom. I want my freedom. Carlos Slim knew about this. I want my freedom. It hurts my soul that they took him away.”

Carlos Slim at that time was apparently the richest man in Mexico or maybe the world, controlling América Móvil, Latin America’s biggest mobile telecom firm, so it’s not too surprising that her rant was shut down pretty quick, and she was carted off, presumably to a mental asylum, wherein she perhaps still rots, unless she has been cured, killed, or eaten.

As the police (or stooges of the elites if you prefer) began to move in, she screamed,

“You! You were there! … You killed Mouriño! They told me who did they kill? The Queen of England? The Queen of Germany? Did they kill the princesses and Mickey Mouse? It was also him! What? Nothing is going to come here. The people where you come from are crazy! They killed a lot of people. Death to that kind of human! Go away! They ate humans! Disgusting! They ate humans! I wasn’t aware of anything. Of the murders, yes, but they ate humans! Humans! They smell like human flesh!”

Now, Germany does not have a Queen, nor is Mickey Mouse a real live mortal being (sorry for the spoiler, kids). Were other royals and plutocrats engaged in cannibalism? Unfortunately, the sudden disappearance of Ms Jiménez makes it difficult to work out what she was alleging, let alone the truth of such claims. But conspiracy theories love angry rants and disappearing complainants, and so a (smallish) cult has followed Jiménez, particularly after an anonymous person on a blog called “The Black Manik” claimed to have spoken to Jimenez and witnessed the incident, until he was pulled away by “some tall, well-dressed people”. Accusations fly thick and fast about elites and their alleged members, some of whom are occasionally accused of being rich cannibals.

Despite the best efforts of the Daily Mail, no further sightings of Gabriela Rico Jiménez have been reported.

The narrative of cannibalism to describe class warfare is nothing new – in 1789, the sans-culottes felt that French aristocrats were (perhaps metaphorically) eating their flesh, and in turn, the poor eating the aristocrats (more literally) became popular after the Revolution. In films, there are a lot of phantasies about the poor eating the rich, such as the silly English movie Eat the Rich. Indigenous people were routinely accused of eating their European invaders, often as a pretext for enslavement and extermination, but sometimes the eating of the foreigner was presented as a form of liberation. Sawney Bean and his incestuous clan were supposedly preying on rich travellers in the fifteenth century, and have been revived for horror stories ever since. We see cannibalism as a form of revenge on rich exploiters in the classic Suddenly Last Summer, in which the rich, white, effete Sebastian is eaten by the impoverished boys he has been sexually abusing.

But the more realistic horror movies usually show those with money, influence and power eating the poor. Jack the Ripper was never conclusively identified, but seems to have been someone rich and powerful, who got his kicks in 1888 from killing sex workers and, in one case at least, eating parts of them. The film Never Let Me Go showed a future (or alternate present) in which the protagonists were bred as clones, not to be eaten exactly, but to be cut up for organ transplants. More recently, films have speculated on the rich forming clubs to eat the poor, or paying entrepreneurs to kidnap and sell parts of young women to satiate their jaded appetites. In the wonderful Welsh film The Feast, the rich are over-consumers of the environment, and their punishment is to eat each other. And let’s not forget the extraordinary accusations made against actor Armie Hammer, who declared to a girlfriend on social media “I am 100% a cannibal. I want to eat you.”

So it’s not clear who is eating whom – the rich or the poor, or perhaps there is some sort of cultural pendulum. But leaving aside the actual flesh, we are all involved in consumption of the other in some form. Philosophers from Voltaire to Derrida have declared “we are all cannibals”.

Auto-cannibalism: EAT (Jimmy Weber, 2014)

Hollywood, they say, will eat you alive, and stories of those who try to succeed (and fail) are often accompanied by metaphors of incorporation. If the city doesn’t eat you, the people will, or if they don’t, you’ll end up eating yourself. That’s what happens to Novella (Meggie Maddock) in this powerful movie about a struggling actress who just can’t get a break.

No wonder she develops some nervous habits. The one revealed here is auto-cannibalism. She eats herself.

Novella has lost control of her life. She hasn’t won a part for three years. Intending to be a famous movie star, she instead finds herself auditioning for porn movies to make ends meet, and then comes home to find an eviction notice on her door. Her life is out of control, and she tries to reclaim it by auto-cannibalism—eating her own flesh. An illness, an addiction or an obsession is often described as “all-consuming” and Eat takes this to its logical conclusion.

The film explores the desperation and isolation that is so much a part of modern cultures, and the extreme reactions to the feeling of failure. What better way to explore the darkness inside us than by opening ourselves up and looking, feeling and tasting it? As the movie reminds us,

This is the debut feature from Jimmy Weber (Incubator), and he demonstrates a rare talent for showing people things that really turn their stomachs. This is what horror should do—while so many entries that once caused people to pass out or vomit in cinemas have become stale and unremarkable, people eating their own flesh still manages to make the gorge rise for many otherwise hardened reviewers of gore movies. It takes us into our deepest fears and lets them out to play in the (relatively) safe world of the cinema.

Andy Warhol made an underground movie called Eat in 1964 which featured a man eating a mushroom for 45 minutes. This Eat is a lot more graphic, although the French got here first with Marina de Van’s extraordinary 2002 film In My Skin. In that film, the protagonist feels the same appetite for her own flesh as so many people seem to feel when they smell bacon.

If you’re not a gore hound, you probably may not like this film. The special effects are excruciatingly realistic, and reinforced by sound effects of biting and slurping that offer a sometimes exaggerated realism. But although it is a disturbing film, it is beautifully made and makes its point about the human tendency to consume, like the ouroboros, the very environment that sustains us.

Cannibalism, or any kind of carnivory, is ultimately about control. Humans seek to control nature by killing and eating others—usually other species, but sometimes, even often, other humans. There is no greater control of another than taking their life and converting their flesh into food and then into faeces. But doing it to ourselves? That is more an enquiry, an interrogation of the usually unquestioned human/animal binary. Reddit reports that a guy who calls himself Incrediblyshinyshart served his friends tacos, made from his own amputated leg, just to see what we taste like. A Spanish influencer ate part of her knee which had been removed surgically, just because it was her property and she could (much the same argument people use to justify eating other animals). Then there’s the vegan who made meringues out of his own blood, because, he said, it is,

the only ethical source of animal products, because I can give my consent to myself in a way that a sheep can’t.”

Once we look inside our skin, that large sensory organ which identifies us to the world and ourselves, we find meat, the same red meat we find inside other mammals. The only difference between the cannibal who consumes his own flesh and the gourmand who eats that of a pig, cow or sheep is one of consent.