Raw

I remember the headlines coming out of the Toronto International Film Festival in 2016 like they were written by a 1970s carnival barker. "Paramedics called!" "Audiences fainting in the aisles!" In an era where we’ve supposedly seen everything—where every digital monstrosity is a click away—the idea that a small French film could cause physical collapse felt like a throwback to the days of The Exorcist. I sat down to watch it on my laptop while my roommate was loudly trying to assemble an IKEA dresser in the next room, and the rhythmic hammering weirdly synced up with the hazing scenes, adding a layer of percussive dread I wasn't prepared for.

By the time the credits rolled, I wasn't fainting, but I was definitely checking my own pulse. Julia Ducournau didn't just make a horror movie; she made a movie that feels like it’s actually breathing on your neck. It’s part of that mid-2010s wave that people kept trying to label "elevated horror," but I hate that term. Let’s just call it what it is: a film that respects the audience's intelligence as much as it enjoys messing with their gag reflex.

The Hunger Games, But For Real

We meet Justine (Garance Marillier), a lifelong vegetarian and gifted student heading to a prestigious veterinary school. It’s a family tradition—her parents went there, and her older sister, Alexia (Ella Rumpf), is already a senior there. But this isn't some cozy academic retreat. The school operates like a cross between a medieval dungeon and a European nightclub. The hazing is relentless: students are doused in animal blood and forced to endure ritualistic humiliations that feel uncomfortably close to cult initiation.

When Justine is forced to eat a raw rabbit kidney as part of a "tradition," something inside her snaps. It’s not just an allergic reaction or a bout of food poisoning. It’s an awakening. Garance Marillier delivers a performance that is nothing short of transformative; she starts the film looking like a stiff breeze could knock her over and ends it looking like she could swallow the world whole. The way she portrays Justine’s burgeoning "hunger" isn't through monster makeup or CGI, but through posture, a predatory glint in the eye, and a frantic, itchy energy that makes you want to scratch your own skin.

Sisterhood is a Blood Sport

The core of the movie isn't the gore—though, believe me, the gore is top-tier—it’s the relationship between Justine and Alexia. Ella Rumpf plays the older sister with a jagged, unpredictable edge that kept me constantly off-balance. One minute she’s a protective mentor, the next she’s a sociopathic rival. Their chemistry is the engine that drives the plot forward, turning a story about cannibalism into a bizarrely relatable metaphor for sibling dynamics and the messy transition into adulthood.

"Raw" is essentially a documentary about how much older siblings can suck. I’ve never seen a film capture that specific blend of love, jealousy, and "I will literally eat you alive if you touch my stuff" quite like this. Ducournau uses body horror to talk about female desire and societal expectations in a way that feels incredibly modern. In a cinematic landscape currently dominated by sanitized franchises, seeing a director lean this hard into the messy, wet, gross reality of being human is incredibly refreshing.

Low Budget, High Impact

What’s wild is how much Ducournau accomplished with a relatively modest $3.5 million budget. This is an indie gem that knows exactly where to spend its money. There are no wasted frames. The cinematography by Ruben Impens (who also shot the heartbreaking The Broken Circle Breakdown) uses a palette of sickly greens, neon blues, and "should-I-be-worried?" reds to create an atmosphere of permanent unease. It looks like a high-budget thriller, but it has the soul of a punk-rock basement show.

The makeup effects are terrifyingly convincing precisely because they are practical. Apparently, the "rabbit kidney" Marillier had to eat was actually a sugar-based prop, but the revulsion on her face was aided by the fact that the cast and crew were shooting in a real Belgian veterinary school surrounded by actual animal carcasses. That kind of environmental "authenticity" isn't something you can just render in post-production. It seeps into the performances.

The film also features a fantastic supporting turn by Rabah Nait Oufella as Adrien, Justine’s roommate and only real friend, who provides a much-needed emotional anchor before things go completely off the rails. The score by Jim Williams also deserves a shout-out; it’s haunting and baroque, providing a weirdly elegant counterpoint to the carnage on screen.

Raw is a film that lingers. It’s not just about the shock of the "fainting-worthy" scenes; it’s about the way it captures the terrifying experience of discovering who you really are, especially when that person doesn't fit into the box your parents built for you. It’s a bold, unapologetic piece of contemporary cinema that proved Julia Ducournau was a force to be reckoned with long before she won the Palme d'Or for Titane. If you have the stomach for it, it’s a feast. Just maybe skip the snacks while you watch.