When beauty becomes a predator and hunger reshapes the flesh, two films feast on the horrors of the female form.

In the mid-2010s, horror cinema witnessed a visceral renaissance with Nicolas Winding Refn’s The Neon Demon (2016) and Julia Ducournau’s Raw (2016), both unflinchingly probing the nightmare of body image. These films transform the female body into a battleground, where societal obsessions with perfection and desire culminate in grotesque metamorphoses. By comparing their approaches to body horror, we uncover how glamour and gore alike expose the devouring forces of femininity under scrutiny.

  • Both films deploy cannibalism as a potent metaphor for the consumption of youth and beauty, turning personal transformation into a savage critique of patriarchal gaze.
  • Refn’s hypnotic neon aesthetics clash with Ducournau’s raw physicality, revealing divergent cinematic languages for embodying dysmorphia.
  • Their legacies endure in contemporary horror, influencing a wave of films that interrogate body politics through extremity and elegance.

Glamour’s Gory Undercurrent: Plot Parallels and Divergences

In The Neon Demon, newcomer Jesse (Elle Fanning) arrives in Los Angeles with dreams of modelling glory. Her ethereal beauty quickly captivates the industry’s predators: a sympathetic makeup artist Ruby (Jena Malone), ambitious rivals Sarah (Abbey Lee) and Gigi (Bella Heathcote), and the lecherous photographer Dean (Karl Glusman). As Jesse ascends, envy festers. A photoshoot in a morgue blurs life and death, foreshadowing the film’s spiral into necrophilia and cannibalism. Ruby’s necrophilic encounter with Jesse’s corpse escalates into a ritualistic feast where Sarah and Gigi consume her remains, believing it will infuse them with her allure. Refn crafts a fairy-tale descent, echoing Snow White with mirrors and witches, culminating in Jesse’s resurrection amid a thunderstorm, her vengeful gaze drowning her devourers.

Contrast this with Raw, where Justine (Garance Marillier), a vegetarian freshman at veterinary school, endures a brutal hazing ritual: consuming raw rabbit kidney. This awakens a primal hunger, manifesting in compulsive meat cravings, finger-biting, and eventually human flesh. Her sister Alexia (Ella Rumpf), already a cannibal, draws her deeper into fratricidal depravity. Justine’s body rebels—skin peels, urges intensify—mirroring adolescent turmoil. Ducournau interweaves family dysfunction and sexual awakening; Justine’s arc peaks in a blood-soaked reconciliation, shaving her hair and embracing her altered self. Where The Neon Demon externalises threat through glamorous harpies, Raw internalises it as physiological revolt.

Both narratives hinge on ingestion as transformation. Jesse’s beauty is literally eaten to sustain others, a commentary on Hollywood’s disposability. Justine’s consumption reshapes her from within, symbolising the violent emergence of womanhood. Key scenes amplify this: Jesse’s transformative photoshoot, lit like a Renaissance painting, versus Justine’s dormitory finger-munching, a frenzy of repressed urges. Casting enhances authenticity—Fanning’s wide-eyed innocence versus Marillier’s gaunt intensity—while crews like cinematographer Natasha Braier (Neon) and Ruben Impens (Raw) capture flesh’s fragility.

Production histories reveal shared indie grit. The Neon Demon, backed by Refn’s post-Drive clout, faced walkouts at Cannes for its extremity. Raw, Ducournau’s feature debut, endured reshoots after fainting spells on set, its hyper-realism derived from practical effects. Myths abound: Refn drew from real modelling scandals; Ducournau from her own meat aversion. These foundations ground their body image horrors in tangible dread.

Devoured Desires: Thematic Mirrors of Femininity

Central to both is the female body as commodity. The Neon Demon skewers beauty industry vampirism—Jesse warns, “Beauty is power,” yet it devours her. Mirrors dominate, reflecting fragmented selves amid neon glows, critiquing Instagram-era narcissism. Gender dynamics invert: women prey on each other under male gaze, photographers and agents as enablers. Class lurks too; Jesse’s trailer-park origins clash with elite superficiality.

Raw shifts to bodily autonomy amid medical misogyny. Justine’s veterinary dissection parallels her self-dissection, meat-eating as rebellion against imposed purity. Cannibalism allegorises female competition—sisters devouring sibling bonds—and sexual maturation, orgasms intertwined with feasts. Trauma echoes: parental hypocrisy (mother’s hidden carnivory) fuels generational cycles. Race and sexuality subtly interplay, with queer undertones in sibling intimacy.

Psychological depth unites them. Jesse’s arc from ingenue to avenging spectre explores dysmorphia as supernatural curse. Justine’s bulimic-like binges literalise eating disorders, body horror as metaphor for puberty’s grotesquerie. Both challenge viewer revulsion, forcing empathy for the monstrous feminine.

Religion and ideology surface obliquely. Neon Demon‘s pagan rituals evoke witchcraft; Raw‘s animalistic urges primal idolatry. National contexts differ—American dream corrupted versus French familial rot—but both indict consumer capitalism’s flesh market.

Synthwave Screams vs. Carnal Crunches: Style and Sound

Refn’s style mesmerises: Cliff Martinez’s pulsating synth score underscores slow-motion glamour, Cliff Martinez’s beats syncing with heartbeat dread. Braier’s cinematography bathes scenes in crimson and electric blue, composition evoking Edward Hopper’s isolation. Editing by Matthew Newman stretches tension, beauty shots hypnotic preludes to horror.

Ducournau’s approach assaults: Jim Williams’ score blends orchestral swells with visceral snaps—bones crack, flesh tears audibly. Impens’ handheld camera plunges into orifices, lighting unflinching: jaundice yellows, blood’s sheen. Long takes immerse in disgust, choreography precise amid chaos.

Class politics emerge stylistically. Neon‘s polished sheen mocks elite artifice; Raw‘s grime indicts institutional brutality. Sound design amplifies: Neon‘s echoes hollow fame; Raw‘s chews intimate violation.

Performances elevate. Fanning radiates doomed luminosity; Marillier convulses with feral authenticity. Supporting casts—Malone’s pathos, Rumpf’s mania—embody thematic cores.

Prosthetics and Pulchritude: Special Effects Breakdown

The Neon Demon favours surreal illusion. Practical effects by Francois Le Vaillant create post-mortem pallor via silicone prosthetics, subtle bloating evoking decay. Cannibalism scene uses corn syrup blood, animal innards for texture—visually poetic, less graphic. Digital enhancements refine glows, mirrors multiplying horror geometrically.

Raw commits to extremity. Effects maestro Paris Films crafts hyper-real flaying: Marillier’s skin peeled via latex appliances, lip prosthetics for engorged bites. Finger amputation practical, vomit scenes nine takes of blended meat slurry. Blood rigs pump litres, wounds gelatinous. Ducournau’s veterinary background informs anatomical precision—caesarean-like extractions visceral.

Impact differs: Neon‘s effects aestheticise body image terror, beauty’s corruption painterly. Raw‘s ground authenticity, forcing confrontation. Both innovate post-The Human Centipede, prioritising metaphor over splatter.

Influence ripples: Neon inspires glam-gore like Suspiria remake; Raw begets Titane. Challenges included actor safety—Fanning’s pool submersion, Marillier’s dietary aversion therapy.

From Festival Frights to Cultural Cannibalism: Legacy

Both premiered 2016: Neon at Cannes (mixed boos/ovations), Raw at Toronto (faintings). Box office modest—Neon $33m worldwide, Raw $3m—but cult status endures. Remakes absent, yet echoes in A24’s Midsommar, Ducournau’s Titane (Palme d’Or).

Cultural footprint: sparked body positivity debates, feminist readings praising female-directed gaze. Censorship battles—UK cuts for Raw, MPAA R for both—highlight taboos.

In horror evolution, they bridge Black Swan psychology and Cronenbergian excess, subverting slasher tropes for introspective dread.

Director in the Spotlight

Nicolas Winding Refn, born 29 August 1970 in Copenhagen, Denmark, to artistic parents—father film professor Andreas Refn, mother photographer Edith Grau—grew up between Denmark and the US. Returning to Copenhagen at 11, he struggled with dyslexia, finding solace in cinema, idolising Martin Scorsese and Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Expelled from school at 16, he self-taught filmmaking, debuting with Pusher (1996), a gritty crime tale launching Mads Mikkelsen.

His Pusher trilogy (Pusher 1996, With Blood on My Hands: Pusher II 2004, I’m the Angel of Death: Pusher III 2005) established raw machismo critiques. Fear X (2003) experimented with noir paranoia starring John Turturro. Hollywood breakthrough: Bronson (2008), Tom Hardy’s breakout as Britain’s violent prisoner. Valhalla Rising (2009) mythic minimalism with Mads Mikkelsen. Drive (2011) synth-noir masterpiece, Ryan Gosling’s stoic driver, Golden Globe nods, influencing neo-noir revival.

Post-Drive: Only God Forgives (2013), divisive Bangkok revenge with Gosling, Cannes jeers but cult love. The Neon Demon (2016) horror pivot. Too Old to Die Young (2019) Amazon series, 10-hour pulp odyssey. Copenhagen Cowboy (2022) Netflix neon underworld. Influences: Jodorowsky, Argento, Carpenter. Known for Cliff Martinez collaborations, slow cinema, colour saturation. Awards: BAFTA nominee, Sitges Critic’s Prize. Personal: blindness scare 2019 spurred reflection. Future: The Avenger series.

Filmography highlights: Bleeder (1999)—intimate drama; One Eye Red (2007)—thriller false start; The Forbidden Kingdom (producer, 2008); documentaries like My Life Directed by Nicolas Winding Refn (2014). Refn’s oeuvre obsesses violence aesthetics, male fragility, now female horrors.

Actor in the Spotlight

Garance Marillier, born 9 February 1998 in Namur, Belgium, discovered acting at 15 via short film Le Pack (2015), earning Magritte Award nomination. Studied at INSAS film school, Brussels. Breakthrough: Raw (2016), embodying Justine’s feral awakening, Cannes Critics’ Week buzz, international acclaim for raw physicality.

Post-Raw: La Belle Dormante (2016) modern Sleeping Beauty; Ava (2017) Léa Mysius debut, blind teen romance, César nominee Best Actress. Les Confins (2018) WWI drama. English-language: Greta (2019) Neil Jordan thriller opposite Chloë Grace Moretz. Alcarràs (2022) Catalan family saga, Berlin Golden Bear winner. La Piedad (2023) historical. TV: La Garce (2022). Stage: Les Fausses Confidences.

Marillier’s career blends horror (Raw, upcoming Bring Her Back 2024 Zach Cregger), drama, international arthouse. Awards: Magritte for Ava, rising star lists. Influences: Isabelle Huppert, animalistic roles. Personal: advocates mental health, veganism post-Raw. Filmography: Mon ange (2024) upcoming; shorts like Yannick (2018). At 26, commands diverse roles with visceral presence.

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Bibliography

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Ducournau, J. (2017) Interview: ‘I wanted to show the animal inside’. Variety. Available at: https://variety.com/2017/film/global/raw-julia-ducournau-interview-1201978452/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

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