Also known as I Will Dance on Your Grave, this film’s videotape release by Hollywood International Pictures “through Italian Stallion Video Comportation [sic]” has a notice on the front and back covers that cautions the potential viewer: “Warning: graphic scenes of violence and horror”, and adds that it has a running time of 91 minutes. Subsequent VHS releases were (badly) re-cut to 63 minutes, including the 4 minute end credits. All DVD releases are ripped from the 63 minute version. Which is still about 62 minutes too long.
So, to the “story” (sic). At a sorority initiation (we are told it is “the sleaziest sorority in the State), two girls are given a chance to prove themselves to the sisterhood by posing as hookers. But then they turn into vampires and start killing and eating the frat boys. Not good for business, but luckily there seem to be no bounds to the number or stupidity of the local men.
The movie starts with a guy following a woman to a bar, leering at her from the bed as she returns naked except for an axe held tactfully behind her back, bites off his finger (resulting in lots of the most watered-down fake blood I have ever seen), then chops him up.
Move to domestic turmoil as college girl tells mom she wants to join a sorority, then in the car on the way to college, agrees with her friend it’s only because they like to party. Stark realism so far. They pledge, and their initiation is to dress as sex workers and pick up one man each, on Sunset Boulevard. They agree, because “do you want to be socially ostracised all year?” The other girl suggests they join a frat house as “little sisters” instead. The best line of the movie follows:
“Little sisters? For your information, being a little sister has all the social status of being gang raped by Nazis.”
Despite the occasional zinger, the rest of the film is full of bad writing, laughable acting, gratuitous breast shots, and fake gore. There is an unexplained weirdo named Lobo at the brothel, who takes men’s coats when they arrive, and then kills them while they are getting it on with the girls.
Besides killing people, Lobo’s job is to bring glasses of blood to the head vampire, on whom he has a crush. She sleeps with a human skull on her stomach. Much as one does in sororities, I suppose.
The protagonists are both turned into vampires, and the rest of the film revolves around necks and teeth. There is a detective on their case, but he is easily captured, and told:
“We have a very special diet. We only eat warm human flesh.” “No kidding. I think I read about that diet in the National Enquirer.”
I won’t give any spoilers in case you are tempted to watch it, but let’s just say that, while some of the female vampires meet a sticky end, there is far more sacrificial killing and eating of males, which makes this somewhat unusual in cannibal films.
I don’t know whether the writer/director Donald Farmer ever saw the German movie Die Wiebchen which came out in 1970. At any rate, male terror at being eaten by females, reabsorbed by the Monstrous-Feminine, is much underrated, and this film, badly made as it is, at least helps to remind us of that uncanny terror and restore the balance, however marginally.
If Donald Duck (who vaguely resembles a duck) eats a chicken’s body parts, such as wings, does that make him a cannibal? You know, because he’s a (sort of) bird eating body parts of birds.
Donald appeared this week on the YouTube interview show HOT ONES (see link above). Hot Ones calls itself:
The show with hot questions, and even hotter wings.
It’s a talk show produced by First We Feast and Complex Media and hosted by the very congenial host Sean Evans. The simple but ingenious premise is that Evans interviews celebrities while they eat a platter of spicy chicken wings. To make it interesting, the wings are served with increasingly hot chilli sauces. The questions become deeper and more personal as the Scoville hotness score of the sauces is ramped up and the guest becomes hot and bothered.
The Scoville score on Donald’s last sauce, “Straight out of Hades”, is 1,454,000, which has the expected result on poor Donald.
So anyway, would eating chicken wings be classified as cannibalism for young Mr Duck (who, we are told, is actually celebrating his 90th anniversary of his animated life)? Well, I covered the biological question pretty comprehensively in my blog last Christmas, which looked at the ethics of Donald and family eating chickens and turkeys for their festive meal.
The traditional definition of cannibalism is eating the flesh of a member of one’s own species. Now, it is not clear what species of duck Donald purports to be, but to be a cannibal, he would have to be eating a duck that wears clothes and speaks (sort of) English (the Hot Ones interview helpfully offers subtitles). This would probably limit his cannibalism feasting options to his nephews, Huey, Dewey and Louie, or Uncle Scrooge, and all of those people remain alive and uneaten, as far as we are aware. Or, of course, his long-time paramour Daisy, and he tells us that she is still around; indeed, she was the one who challenged him to agree to the interview while they were watching earlier episodes.
Now if we’re going to say that Donald eating any bird (Class: Aves) is cannibalism, then we need to agree that humans eating cows, pigs, sheep, goats, etc (Class: Mammalia) would also be cannibalism. I’m happy to go with that, but I haven’t found too many other takers.
But there is one more obstacle to the outrage of those condemning Donald’s consumption of chicken wings. Sean Evans states very clearly at the start of the feast
I notice you have the cauliflower wings on that side of the table, but no water or milk to help you out?
Donald doesn’t need them (he claims). What a rebel! That’s why we love Donald, far more than we love Mickey, at least, according to the totally unscientific surveys I have performed.
Donald doesn’t want chicken meat, or cow’s milk. Donald is a vegan! I guess in a world where humans eat twelve million ducks (and 200 million chickens) every day, we shouldn’t expect anything else.
If you by any chance have watched any of the videos of the influencer Israel dos Santos Assis, better known online as Pinguim (Penguin), you may not have guessed that anything controversial was being shown. The Brazilian, from São Francisco do Conde, a city in the metropolitan area of Salvador in Bahiahad, had been gaining more and more followers on social media over the months before his arrest on July 23 2024, when he was apprehended after being caught desecrating graves in the cemetery of San Francisco the Count, in the Salvador Metropolitan Region, and stealing human bones.
Not just bones. The 22-year-old influencer used human flesh from the corpses to cook his most popular dish: feijoada, a bean stew usually involved simmering beans with beef or pork. Both of which have been reported as tasting very similar to human flesh.
One of Pinguim’s videos, which went viral on social media, explained the secrets of adding meat to beans — and how to get the most out of the final dish.
“Treat and throw it in the beans. But you can’t eat it, no, you just chew it and then throw it away. You don’t swallow it, you just chew it and throw it away, you just taste it, it’s sweet.”
The remains were not only for use in his recipes. After being arrested, Israel led the local police to a mangrove swamp where he had hidden numerous bags of bones. He had been sending these to Salvador, the state capital, to be used in satanic rituals.
The suspect was caught after families of buried people reported that graves had been violated and several bones had been stolen.
Pinguim made a video confession to police which was later released to the media. He reported that he had spent hours at the cemetery to see which graves were the most recent; those with the freshest human flesh. He told police he had fried a piece of a person’s leg and seasoned it with lemon and vinegar before chewing on it.
Local reports say he told police that he stole the body parts to order, in exchange for a payment equivalent to about $US50 from three people who wanted to use the bones as part of a black magic ceremony. He used the money to buy shoes and sandwiches, as well as getting his hair cut.
Surprisingly, Pinguim was released on bail pending an ongoing investigation into charges of desecrating a tomb. His lawyer, Luan Santos, told local media his client suffered from mental health issues and was taking anti-depressants. He added that he would be demanding psychiatric tests to ascertain whether the accused was fully aware of what he was doing.
Pinguim’s social media accounts have been deleted.
Brazil has always been a fascinating area for students of cannibalism. One of the most famous tribes was the Tupinamba, who captured a German soldier and explorer named Hans Staden in the sixteenth century. He claimed to have witnessed their cannibalistic rituals and did very nicely from his subsequent writings, illustrated by the graphic woodcuts of Theodor de Bry. As a result, the Portuguese came to save the ‘savages’ from their sins, and through enslavement, assimilation, extermination and the introduction of Smallpox, managed to wipe them out completely.
The classic cannibalism film How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman (Como Era Gostoso o Meu Francês) is set in this period of imperial invasion, and tries to give a new perspective on the way colonialism used cannibalism as its pretext.
More recently, modern Brazilians have been involved in some of the more interesting cannibalism stories that have graced our news cycles, including the “Cartel” who sold pastries made from human flesh to unwitting customers, and the Brazilian who was arrested in Lisbon for eating a man who had tried to help him. Like most cannibalism films, the ones set in Brazil vary between seeing it as something savages naturally do, such as Emanuelle and the Cannibals, and those that see it as typifying the exploitation of the poor by the rich, such as The Cannibal Club.
The Brazilian anthropologist Eduardo Viveiros de Castro proposed a ‘post-structural anthropology’ in his book Cannibal Metaphysics. De Castro sought to ‘decolonise’ anthropology by challenging the increasingly familiar view that it was ‘exoticist and primitivist from birth’, denying that cannibalism even existed, and so transferred the conquered peoples from the cannibalistic villains of the West into mere fictions of colonialism. This alternative view of Amerindian culture rejects the automatic assumption of the repugnance of cannibalism, which serves to either confront it or deny its existence. Accepting those parts of colonial culture that are useful (they speak Portuguese for example) can be seen as a form of reverse, cultural cannibalism.
But Pinguim demonstrates that even Brazilians have not fully embraced this philosophy, particularly when it involves digging up their relatives.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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?
In a recent episode of Penn Badgley's podcast, Ariana Grande said that Jeffrey Dahmer would be her dream dinner guest: "I think I would have loved to meet him."https://t.co/zfvrJCRxAj
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!
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 Cannibal Guy 