Raw (2016) Raw in subtext & execution in all the right ways (Review)

Do animal lovers prevent themselves from eating meat because they love animals? There is a scene early into Raw that says otherwise. Justine (Garance Miller), a lifelong vegetarian, could not care less for animals. She is disgusted by the presence, the shedding hair, and the presumed stench of a dog in close vicinity. Worse still, she is a veterinarian, excelling in her work and now partaking in her first year of veterinary school. Things, inevitably, take a turn for the worse. What may seem erratic and insane to us is the norm for those that attend this school. The characters, for as shameful as they are evil, are acting in a way that defines the herding process of university life.   

If Raw has a message, then it is that vegetarians crave most what they cannot have. Stretch that thought a little wider. Do we not desire what we cannot have? Raw just chooses a topic that will focus on and work best for the narrative. That it does. Justine merely wants to study and do well, but she cannot because of rituals, processes, and a sudden craving for human flesh. Raw is a disturbing film, and much of it comes from the unexpected stylings of its horror. Everywhere we as an audience can look in these moments of tension hides something we should fear. Students ushered down the stairs like cattle, the corners hide masked caricatures of the hazing ritual leaders. Such is the university lifestyle, though not as cleanly or co-ordinated as I remember it. Justine is reunited with her sister, Alexia (Ella Rumpf) at this hazing party, and it is here that the echoes of discomfort scream out. The hanging, stuffed toy rabbit a nice allusion, the spotlight fixating on it before a cut to black.   

Raw is a rather apt title, not just for the content, but the style Ducournau presents. Her focus and craftsmanship are raw. It is gripping and striking. Controversial it may be, it gets its point across and does so with artistic integrity and a realisation for its harsh-hitting studies of horror. There are passionate moments of true, spine-chilling horror, alongside a breakdown of jump-scare tropes and lingering darkness. Darkness does not prevail, though, Raw utilises colour and technical merits to incredible advantage. It is a film that acknowledges its artistic merits but has enough of a story within it to allow for these touching, peculiar pieces of art-seeped horror to ring through with effect. It is the effective body horror of David Cronenberg mixed with such a unique, stomach-churning style.   

Still, stomach-churning it may be, some of its story makes little sense. There is that overt sexualisation that only the French can make so frequently in a 90-minute film. Its story relies on the suspension of belief at times, the idea that cannibalism is hereditary lingers on the mind, and the retaliation these moments have in the second and third act are erratic and sloppy. Still, the soundtrack is strong, and it is essential to the horrible moments we see Miller act her way through. She is phenomenal here, putting herself through some shocking moments of horror and acts of insanity that bring out the worst in this protagonist.   

Another stellar offering from the superb minds over at Second Sight, Raw looks fantastic. Its sound is crisp, its direction focused, and the special features are a delight. They are a treat for the fans who needed something more to tide them over in the downtime between Ducournau’s projects. Plenty of interviews, essays, and commentaries are present to sustain us, alongside an alternative opening, deleted scenes, and some nice featurettes with Ducournau and film critic Emma Westwood.   

Older siblings are meant to guide us, although I doubt that Alexia is offering much support to Justine. She forces her to eat rabbit kidneys. The estrangement can be felt echoing through the relatively isolated characters. Raw is unremitting, focused and finds that sweet spot between artistically rewarding and entertaining experience.  Flinchingly great, a disturbing knock-out that is as subtly perverse as it is excruciating to watch. In a good way, though. “Beauty is pain,” Alexia says. Too right, it must have been a pain to make Raw look, sound, and feel this cold. 

Often accused of being pretentious, the Style Council chose to face down these allegations in 1987 by promoting their album The Cost of Loving with a non-linear musical satire on British identity in the age of Thatcherism, narrated by a pre-Reverend Richard Coles. Surprisingly, this did not stop people from calling them pretentious, and the resulting film JerUSAlem (it is our sad duty to confirm that yes, you saw what they did there) vanished from sight.

APRIL POP SCREEN +

Thanks for reading Ewan’s review of RAW

For more Music and Pop Music Chat, check out our Podcast, Pop Screen