Julia Ducournau’s debut feature is the kind of film that had audiences fainting at film festivals, and that reputation follows it everywhere. But reducing Raw to its shock value misses what makes it remarkable. This is a coming-of-age story first, a horror film second, and the way those two threads twist together is what elevates it above standard genre fare.
Justine is a lifelong vegetarian entering veterinary school where her older sister already holds court. During a hazing ritual, she’s forced to eat raw meat for the first time. What follows is a transformation that operates on every level: physical, psychological, and social. The film treats her awakening appetites with a matter-of-fact intensity that makes the horror land harder than any jump scare could.
Ducournau’s Fearless Visual Storytelling
The cinematography does extraordinary work throughout. Ducournau and cinematographer Ruben Impens shoot the veterinary school like a pressure cooker, all fluorescent lights and clinical surfaces that make the organic intrusions of blood and flesh feel even more transgressive. Every frame serves the story’s central tension between civilized restraint and animal instinct.
Garance Marillier’s performance as Justine is the engine that drives everything. She takes a character arc that could easily become ridiculous and grounds it in recognizable adolescent confusion and longing. Her physical transformation over the course of the film is subtle enough to creep up on you, and when the full implications land, it’s because Marillier has earned every beat of the journey. The supporting cast matches her intensity, particularly Ella Rumpf as her sister Alexia, whose relationship with Justine becomes the film’s most complex and rewarding thread.
What sets Raw apart from most body horror is how purposeful every disturbing moment feels. Nothing exists purely for shock. Each scene of Justine discovering her new cravings maps directly onto recognizable feelings of desire, peer pressure, and the desperate need to fit in. Ducournau understands that the best horror works because it’s about something real, and she never loses sight of the human story underneath the blood.
The pacing deserves special mention. At 99 minutes, the film is lean and controlled. It builds tension through accumulation rather than escalation, letting small moments of discomfort pile up until the atmosphere becomes almost unbearable. The veterinary school setting provides a constant stream of clinical imagery that blurs the line between medical procedure and something far less sanitary.
The Stomach-Turning Reality of Raw
The obvious criticism is the one everyone lands on: this is a tough watch. The body horror elements, while purposeful, are graphic enough that they will simply be too much for a significant portion of potential viewers. Whether that’s a flaw or a feature depends entirely on your tolerance, but it does limit the film’s audience in a real way.
Some viewers find the metaphorical framework too obvious. The vegetarian-becomes-carnivore parallel to sexual awakening isn’t exactly subtle, and for those who clock it early, the film can feel like it’s underlining its themes with a heavy hand. Ducournau clearly trusts her audience enough to leave plenty unsaid, but the central metaphor does wear its meaning on its sleeve.
The third act introduces a twist that divides audiences sharply. Without spoiling it, the film’s final revelation recontextualizes everything that came before, and while many find it devastating and earned, others feel it strains credibility in a way the rest of the film carefully avoids. It’s the kind of ending that either elevates the entire experience or slightly undermines it, depending on how much you’re willing to accept its logic.
The hazing sequences in the early portion of the film, while important for establishing Justine’s world, can feel repetitive. There are only so many times you can watch students being degraded before the point is made, and Ducournau lingers on these rituals a bit longer than necessary.
Hunger as Identity
The most important thing to understand about Raw is that it’s not trying to gross you out. It’s trying to make you understand what it feels like to discover something about yourself that society says is monstrous. Ducournau uses genre conventions to explore real emotional territory, and the result is a film that stays with you long after the initial shock fades. The cannibalism isn’t the point. The loneliness of being something you can’t explain to anyone else is the point.
Should You Watch Raw?
If you have any appetite for horror that operates on an emotional and intellectual level, Raw is essential viewing. It rewards viewers who can engage with difficult material and find the humanity in it. Fans of filmmakers who use genre as a vehicle for deeper storytelling will find a lot to admire here.
Skip it if you have a low tolerance for graphic body horror or if you need your metaphors delivered with more subtlety. This is not a casual Friday night horror movie. It demands your full attention and a strong stomach, and if you’re not willing to meet it on those terms, the experience will be more unpleasant than rewarding.
The Verdict on Raw
Raw announced Julia Ducournau as a major filmmaking talent, and her subsequent work has only confirmed what this debut promised. It’s a film that respects its audience enough to be deeply uncomfortable, trusting that the emotional payoff justifies the difficult journey. The coming-of-age story at its core is universal even when the details are extreme, and Marillier’s performance gives it a beating heart that the gore never drowns out. Not every horror film earns the right to call itself art, but Raw does.