😱 What if your strict vegetarian freshman year at vet school turned you into a FLESH-CRAVING monster who can’t stop biting off fingers and craving human “snacks” in the most skin-crawling, rash-itching ways imaginable? 🩸🍖🤮
This twisted 93% RT body horror from 8 years ago caused GLOBAL OUTRAGE—people fainting, vomiting, paramedics rushing in at festivals—yet it’s the cult classic that’s BACK dominating streaming and scarring a new generation! 🔥🫦
Cannibal urges mixed with puberty chaos, gore that’ll make you lose your lunch, and a coming-of-age nightmare so raw you’ll never look at rabbit livers (or siblings) the same… it’s the French extremity bomb exploding charts AGAIN!
Think you can stomach the film that shocked the world into cult worship? Stream this outrage machine NOW before your cravings kick in… if you dare chew! 😈
👉 Bite into the horror + watch instantly:
Eight years after its explosive debut, Julia Ducournau’s Raw (originally titled Grave in France) continues to devour audiences, holding a stellar 93% on Rotten Tomatoes from over 200 reviews and cementing its place as a modern body horror cult classic that’s as intellectually sharp as it is stomach-churningly grotesque. Released in 2016 but hitting wide audiences in 2017, this French-Belgian production sparked worldwide outrage with reports of fainting, vomiting, and paramedics at festivals—yet that very controversy propelled it to enduring cult status, now dominating streaming platforms like Netflix in November 2025.
Ducournau’s feature debut follows Justine (Garance Marillier), a lifelong vegetarian and animal-loving freshman entering a prestigious veterinary school where her older sister Alexia (Ella Rumpf) is already a student. Dropped off by their strict parents, Justine dives into the brutal hazing rituals that define campus life: sleep deprivation, blood-soaked initiations, and forced consumption of raw animal organs. A seemingly innocent rabbit kidney triggers a violent rash and insatiable cravings—for human flesh.
What starts as a coming-of-age tale spirals into full-blown cannibal horror. Justine’s urges manifest in shocking ways: gnawing on her own hair, biting off a finger during a drunken hookup with roommate Adrien (Rabah Naït Oufella), and escalating family secrets that twist sibling rivalry into something primal and deadly. Ducournau blends puberty metaphors with unflinching body violation—rashes spreading like desire, waxing scenes turning torturous, sex intertwined with savagery.
The film’s outrage stemmed from its premiere at the 2016 Toronto International Film Festival, where paramedics treated viewers for fainting during graphic scenes. Similar incidents hit Cannes Critics’ Week (where it won the FIPRESCI Prize) and other festivals. Audiences walked out, vomited, or needed medical attention, fueling headlines about the “most disturbing film of the year.” Ducournau expressed shock in Q&As, insisting her intent was exploration, not exploitation.
Critics, however, embraced it. The 93% RT score reflects praise for Ducournau’s confident direction: Variety called it “Suspiria meets Ginger Snaps,” highlighting the feminine gaze on carnal awakening. The AV Club lauded its “muscular yet elegant” style, while others noted the metaphor of cannibalism as repressed desire—vegetarianism cracking under societal pressure. Metacritic’s 81 underscores the divide: squeamish detractors vs. admirers of its intelligence.
Budgeted at around €4 million, Raw grossed modestly but built legacy through word-of-mouth. Focus Features handled U.S. distribution, marketing it as elevated horror amid the French extremity wave (Martyrs, High Tension). Marillier’s performance—wide-eyed innocence fracturing into feral hunger—earned raves, launching her career. Rumpf’s Alexia provides chaotic foil, their sister dynamic dripping taboo tension.
Thematically, Raw dissects identity formation: Justine’s vegetarianism as inherited repression, hazing as forced conformity, cannibalism as embracing authentic (monstrous) self. It’s feminist body horror—women owning appetite in a genre often punishing female sexuality. Ducournau draws from personal vet school experiences, amplifying rituals into nightmare.
Gore is inventive: practical effects for finger-chomping, skin-peeling, autopsy dissections. No cheap jumps—just creeping dread via Jim Williams’ throbbing score and Ruben Impens’ clinical cinematography. The rash sequence alone induces itches; the waxing gone wrong rivals The Substance‘s prosthetics.
Cult status solidified post-outrage. Banned or restricted in some territories for violence, it found home video devotees. Streaming revivals—now on Netflix—pair it with Ducournau’s Titane (2021 Palme d’Or winner), proving her extremity mastery. TikToks recreate the finger bite; Reddit dissects metaphors.
In 2025, amid body horror renaissance (The Substance echoing themes), Raw feels prophetic. Its outrage birthed appreciation: what shocked in 2017 enlightens now. Ducournau, shocked by reactions, crafted a mirror to desires we suppress.
Raw isn’t for casual viewing—no eating recommended. But for horror fans craving substance with their splatter, it’s essential. Eight years on, the cravings linger.
Stream it on Netflix. Just maybe skip dinner.
