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Hesitant to break her vegetarian commitment, she balks, but as these things to go, peer pressure wins out, and it isn’t long before things begin to spiral down into gruesome and bloody depths as Justine develops a taste for human flesh. Bursting at the seams with disconcerting imagery, Ducournau really goes there with nauseatingly realistic rashes, raw chicken noshing and eerie veterinary procedures before cannibalism ever enters the picture. Steel yourself—there’s a scene involving a bikini wax gone wrong (though probably not in the way that you’d expect) that threatens to brand itself in the mind of the viewer, and a cannibal-on-cannibal schoolyard fight that draws serious blood. I think it’s way better to make something positive out of your monstrosity than to fit a box that makes you not what you are.” It’s rare cannibalism can be used to tell such a nuanced story, but rather than vampirism or another more familiar horror trope, Justine’s preference for people allows to transform a real person into a literal monster, one that embodies some of humanity’s deepest taboos.
But despite the film’s commitment to serving up creepy images galore, is a drama between two sisters, the wide-eyed and tumultuous Justine and her jaded older sister Alexia (Ella Rumpf) and their messy, bloody attempts to find how they fit in the microcosm of their college. For better or worse, Justine’s predilections exploit the coming of age structure to return the autonomy of experience to Justine herself, as she takes a bloody bite out of her future.
I struggled against depression and desperation and barely managed to produce columns, much less keep up with my day job or my book.
My distress peaked one night and I found myself frantically searching the web for some kind of drop-in crisis counseling chat.
I wasn't suicidal, so I didn't want to call a suicide hotline and tie up a volunteer who could be helping someone on the verge of ultimate despair. site, wondering if they would talk to me if I used Skype and pretended I was in England – and still not clicking the number.
Yet I felt I would implode if I didn't immediately talk to someone neutral and anonymous. I'm not sure why I didn't call a counselor during regular business hours; it wasn't as if the trouble happened only that one night, without warning. If you're a regular Sex Drive reader, you know I'm not shy (although I'll admit this is not the easiest lede I've ever written).
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Image: Courtesy of Corbis Earlier this year, I became so mired in personal crisis I couldn't see any way out.
The ‘70s wasn’t the only decade that brought us horror tales of female coming of age—take , a film that saw a teenage Thomasin’s word implode as she teeters on the edge of childhood and womanhood.
But now, thanks to writer/director Julia Ducournau, the coming of age genre just got a sexy and gory shakeup with the pulsating, visceral horror show traces her attempt to traverse (and fit inside) the complex and often abusive social structures of the new veterinary college where she’s studying.
Working against her is her elder sister, who meets Justine with borderline disgust at every turn.
She’s also saddled with sadistic upperclassmen fixated on achieving a new level of hazing cruelty with their freshmen “rookies”, who must endure everything from relatively harmless chanting and seven-minutes-in-heaven hijinks to buckets of blood and consuming raw rabbit livers. This one gets gross.) Justine, for her part as a newbie, takes everything in stride until the offending meat is offered.