Ate This Shit Up- 'Bones and All'

I caved and got myself an Odeon Limitless pass, which lets you watch as many films as you want with the membership. There are so many films out at the moment I’m excited to see, and the first on my list was Luca Guadagnino’s Bones and All, starring the one and only skinny white boy of the late 2010s, Timothée Chalamet. Before I dive into my thoughts, I want to point out that all I knew going in was that Chalamet and Taylor Russell’s characters fall in love, and there’s some cannibalism. I hadn’t seen the trailer, didn’t know the rating, and had no idea who the cannibals even were—just a few pretty stills from the film that looked all romantic. Honestly, that was the best way to experience it.

Go in blind and take it all in... much like they did in the film.

The first thing I can say is that I haven’t watched a film that made me feel so much so intensely in a long time. The content combined the most disturbing acts with the rawest (no pun intended) romantic journey between two lost lovers on the run. That’s really what it boils down to: outlaws on the run who fall in love. But this film adds a twist not explored by many others I’ve seen. It mixes dark, disturbing character details with a love story in a way that defines juxtaposition—a word I used to throw around in every book analysis back in school. Bones and All does it brilliantly, flashing between wide shots of the isolated southeastern USA and the blood-covered characters, truly satisfied. The final, edge-of-your-seat scene (in my case, teary-eyed) captures this perfectly—flicking between images of Lee and Maren’s shared books or bedside table and an ending I’m going to struggle to write about, so I won’t. Luca Guadagnino is a master of scattering beautiful slices of life throughout his films, very Call Me by Your Name of him.

This film was rated 18+, which makes sense. I’m not someone who shies away from gore—blood doesn’t bother me since I know it’s not real—but I was sitting in the dark cinema with a brick in my stomach. Bones and All is truly a vegetarian’s worst nightmare. The sound of flesh being torn from the bodies of others by the blood-soaked faces of these somewhat likable protagonist-eaters was purely animalistic. Guadagnino spares the audience from seeing the aftermath of their impulses by showing us flashes of their victims’ lives—photos of an elderly woman’s vacations, loved ones, etc. Similarly, we see photos of Lee as a child, playing dress-up. This use of personal photos was a clear motif, reminding us of the humanity in both the victims and the eaters.

A major theme here is morality. Maren struggles with hers, judging Sully’s sick habit of keeping victim trophies (hair ropes, anyone?) and questioning Lee’s choice of meals early on. But she’s one of them—she needs to eat. Throughout the film, we watch Maren grapple with who and what she is, and as viewers, we find ourselves in the same struggle. How did this film make me feel so happy and yet so sad for two cannibals? This messed-up sense of sympathy is nothing short of intense.

The performances were key to making this film work, and they were excellent across the board. Every cast member delivered in a way that made every interaction, every shot, hit hard. The dynamic between Maren and Lee was addictive to watch—I couldn’t help but root for them to find each other. As they drive across the country and encounter the creepy fellow ‘eater’ Sully, the tension becomes palpable. His performance is on par with Anthony Hopkins’s Hannibal Lecter—a truly creepy motherfucker.

I won’t be rewatching Bones and All anytime soon, and I doubt I’ll be recommending it to many friends or family. But that’s no reflection of my enjoyment of the film.

I eat this shit up.

Evie 01 December 2022