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?
The Cannibal Guy 