Raw - Review

From the opening scene of Julia Ducournau's impressively multifaceted debut Raw, Ducournau isn't afraid to let us know what is to come, teasing almost playfully the direction in which we are headed. We see one of a tray of meatballs, lit by a gruesome crimson, mistakenly end up on our vegetarian protagonist Justine's plate. Nestled amongst the white of the mashed potato, the incongruity of its presence mischievously highlights its significance. 

After this opening ordeal, Justine arrives at the mass of bleak concrete that is her veterinary school where Ducournau continues pushing the red visuals (I wonder what that could imply), drawing on greats of the horror genre. We have a student initiation that results in a Carrie style blood-soaked look and conveniently placed lights illuminate hallways in gory shades unashamedly reminiscent of the likes of Argento and Bava. Despite wearing its influences on its sleeve, Ducournau avoids a descent into senseless homage, exploring universal human emotions with a subtlety that is perhaps surprising given her penchant for veritably cronenbergian body horror. 

Particularly impressive was its exploration of confused adolescent identity. Although we do not all take it to Justine's lengths, everyone has gone through a similar period of experimental awkwardness. In these sequences, Ducournau handles this exploration delicately, painting a tender picture of the complexity of sexuality and the labyrinth of social norms that is university life. In one heady scene, we see Justine dancing in front of her mirror (I think we've all done it) - dressed in her older sister's dress - she seems intoxicated by her desirability. 

Throughout the film, Justine's sexual liberation is shown alongside the development of other more violent primal urges. Importantly though, despite its proximity to the all the more sinister awakening, Ducournau refrains from any clumsy connection between the sexual and cannibalistic desires we see develop in Justine. Completely vital in the convincing realisation of these transitions is Garance Marillier's superbly physical performance. As the film develops and she gives in to more carnal desires, we see the virginal innocence of her open features disappear, replaced by a more gaunt angular look that reflects her transformation well.

At times, the affected aggressively art house style of the film was a little trying. I think I am now officially bored of cryptic pre-credit sequences that return later in the film (whoever first did that has a lot answer for) and the stylised visuals occasionally strayed into the world of preening artificiality, detracting from the emotional depth which was being sought. In spite of this, Ducournau's obvious flair for a great set piece shines through. With a number of excellent moments (the bit in the bed with the leg), she shows a panache for the delivery of straight up horror thrills, culminating in a hugely satisfying ending that left me grimacing and grinning at the same time, something I had already been doing for large portions of the film.