Bones And All: "I love my Gala so, if she dies, I will eat her."

February 9th, 2024

That is a quote from Salvador Dalí, or so I've been told. I couldn't actually prove it was real, but I fell in love with the idea of using it in the title, so here we are. Dalí was known for often conflating his feelings of love with a cannibalistic desire, and friends and family famously had to stop him from eating his wife, Gala, when she died. The idea of cannibalism as an act of love is the fundamental theme behind 2022's Bones And All.

This review might put me on a few lists, because Luca Guadagnino's Bones And All is one of the most wholly romantic works of art I've ever experienced. Bones And All is both a love story and a story about love in all its gorgeous, hideous forms. Based on Camille DeAngelis's novel of the same name, the film stars Taylor Russell as Maren Yearly - an Eater, born with an inexplicable and insatiable desire for human flesh.

Raised dutifully by a single father until her 18th birthday, neither she or her father understand her condition, only that she has it. It's clear there were several instances of cannibalism in Maren's childhood, mitigated partly with homeschooling, frequent moves, and near constant supervision. Torn between his role as a father and his basic morality, Frank finally abandons his daughter as she becomes an adult, leaving her responsible for herself, her choices, and her actions. Whether it's explored in the novel or not, Guadagnino does the film and its audience a favor by not dwelling on where Eaters come from or why they eat, instead simply focusing on their humanity and its terrible reality.

Maren has always done her best to be a good person despite her condition - whatever that means. She tries to practice self control, she doesn't feed in front of others, and as she gets older she becomes strategic in meeting her unique needs. Interestingly, Maren seems to lose control and give in during intimate or romantically charged moments, perhaps confusing her desire for human connection with her desire for human flesh. Throughout her childhood, her father serves as an additional moral compass, helping her identify how far is too far. Without him for the first time, Maren worries whether she will betray her humanity with no one to stop her. The existential question of "goodness", moral quarrels, and blurring of boundaries between right and wrong haunt her more than ever, and they echo resoundingly throughout the film.

But Maren isn't left alone with her thoughts for long - she quickly meets Sully, an eccentric if not rather unsettling older man who could smell her, a fellow Eater, all the way down the block. Having nowhere to go and no other guidance, Maren reluctantly follows Sully back to his home. Sully opens up to Maren, sharing his own philosophy and experiences as an Eater. Maren begins to want to trust him, but she never actually does. Taking nothing but the advice he gave her, Maren quietly leaves on a bus the next day.

Once out of the state, Maren hops off the bus and stops at a grocery store to steal what she can. She makes instantaneous eye contact with a boy about her age - he's an Eater, and he knows Maren is too. They both quickly snap out of their reverie when a drunken patron begins to harass a single mother in the grocery store. Lee (Timothée Chalamet) jumps to her defense and challenges the jagoff to meet him outside, where Lee promptly makes a meal of him, offering the leftovers to Maren. Still afraid to be on her own and curious about her kind, Maren asks if she can join Lee, who seems a bit wary of his peers. Despite his skepticism, the two of them agree to travel together, becoming fast friends.

They continue to stalk their prey carefully as they bounce from state to state, meticulous in both execution and choice - neither of them wants to hurt "good" people, nor do they want to get caught. They continue to meet other cannibals on their journey and realize that this is often the case - even Sully had his own code, to "never eat an Eater". The camraderie, secrecy, perceived danger, and social othering of Eaters mirrors that of the LGBTQ+ community, especially poignant given the film's setting of the 1980s - the height of the AIDS crisis. It's a heavy handed metaphor for a heavy handed history. Many of the Eaters we meet are queer coded; particularly Sully. Do not fear: neither Maren nor Lee serves as queerbait.

In fact, Lee is so fruity that I briefly wondered if the romance would be between him and Maren at all. They do fall madly in love. In tandem, the film examines what it means to love and where love's limits might lie. We get to meet Lee's little sister and best friend Kayla; the pair would kill and die for one another. They love their mother. They hate their father. Maren's familial relationships or perhaps the lack thereof are examined further when she seeks out her maternal grandmother Barbara in order to learn more about the mother that was kept from her.

Maren's father loved her in his own way; he protected her and raised her because she was still only a child; his child. And Maren loved her dad - she didn't hurt him, she wanted to make him proud. Maren's mother loved her family so dearly she gave up quite literally everything just to try and keep them safe. Maren's mother loved Maren so dearly that she gave everything just to try and spare her this horror of a life. And Maren loved the grandmother she met only once, so she promised to never come back. Lee loves Maren, so he worries if she thinks he is a bad person because he didn't and couldn't love his father; because good and bad have always come to him on a case by case basis. Lee loves Maren, but he leaves. Maren loves Lee, so she goes after him.

Maren and Lee love each other, so they reconcile. They love each other and they agree to make a life together. We get a glimpse of that life and it's beautiful and joyful and peaceful and dappled in sunlight and as always, one way or another, full of love. But there's a trope in media called "bury your gays" - beyond the obvious suggestion, it refers to the disappointingly recurring theme that queer people must lead tortured lives; that we cannot have happy endings. And, perhaps appropriately, there is no happy ending for our cannibal allegory.

Cannibalism is often regarded among the most vile and taboo acts of humanity, and it makes sense that it's considered one of horror's final frontiers. Luca Guadagnino's subversion of cannibalism as an exploration and expression of ultimate love is totally unforgettable. Not in the last ten years has there been another film that immediately made me want to rewind it and watch it again. Alongside the cast and crew, Guadagnino serves up an inveritable cinematic feast. And in the immortal words of Lee, "I ate it right the fuck up." Bones and all.

It's been hard for me to move on from this film. It really, truly inspired me. Below is a playlist I curated to be a companion my musings. It's intended to be played through in order, but I'm not the boss of you.

Jennifer's Body: the Quintessential High School Experience...right?

February 5th, 2024

I think any queer girl could instantly relate to Jennifer's Body. Who among us hasn't had an incredibly close childhood friendship that became weirdly homoerotic during her teen years until a botched sacrifice caused her bestie to become an evil man eating succubus she was ultimately forced to destroy? Okay, so maybe that's not exactly how my high school experience went, but it could have been.

Released in 2009, Jennifer's Body was a box office flop, due largely in part to a branding catastrophe - the film used Megan Fox's reputation and sexuality to market to young men, who are hardly the movie's target audience. But at the center of Jennifer's Body is the all-too-real story of a confusing and toxic female friendship gone horribly wrong.

High schoolers Jennifer Check and Needy Lesnicki have been best friends for, well, ever, and they're totally lesbi-gay.

Just kidding.

Maybe not?

Even though the two girls couldn't be more different, it's clear from the beginning that Jennifer and Needy don't exactly have an ordinary relationship. They act more like girls with crushes than just best friends - Needy comes alive whenever Jennifer walks into the room, and Jennifer loves to flirtatiously tease Needy, always jealous of her boyfriends.

Throughout the film, sultry and confident Jennifer goes from figurative to literal man eater as her love for the shy and reserved Needy grows more and more apparent. Needy, who seems particularly insecure about her affection for her best friend, is forced to confront both her sapphic feelings and Jennifer's killing spree as both girls' lives are turned completely upside down.

With callbacks to horror classic Carrie and other films in the "good for her" genre, Jennifer's Body proves its place as a sleeper hit and cult favorite. Edgy, hilarious, and at times truly terrifying, it perfectly encapsulates the horrors of queer girlhood.