Cannibal

“Women: can't live with ‘em, can't eat ‘em” would make an apt, if crass, tagline for this formally brilliant pseudo-horror of male anxiety from Manuel Martín Cuenca. Antonio de la Torre plays Granada tailor Carlos, a withdrawn, sullen type who secretly kills to keep his icebox stocked with lady steaks. The seclusion required for Carlos’s dodgy dietry requirements is threatened by the arrival of a nosey new neighbour, Aleks, and latterly her sister, Nina (both played by Olimpia Melinte). A predictably uneasy relationship unfolds.

Cuenca’s cold gaze, long takes and languid, smooth camerawork recall Haneke and provide several sequences of striking beauty; none more so than the near-wordless opening ten minutes introducing Carlos’s grisly proclivities. However, while Haneke uses distance as part of a broader philosophical package, there is precious little else going on in Cannibal apart from pretty pictures and an enjoyably sombre, creepy tone. The depths of this monster are never explored, which just leaves a fairly mundane plot chock-full of Psycho references to pin two hours of runtime on. Admirable, but shallow.