After a terrifying accident at a sleepover, Maren (Taylor Russell) and her father (Andre Holland) find themselves once again on the run.  Finding a small rental in Maryland, Maren’s father eventually abandons the girl one night leaving behind only a birth certificate and a taped confession chronicling Maren’s history of cannibal tendencies.  On her own, Maren begins making her way north to where she believes her mother is, and during her travels meets other “eaters” like her.  One such eater is Lee (Timothée Chalamet), and as the two form a friendship and relationship, Maren begins to find greater acceptance of herself. 

Luca Guadagnino is a director who believes secrets are revealed in the summer sun; A Bigger Splash (2015), Call Me by Your Name (2019), and now Bones and All, the third collaboration with scriptwriter David Kajganich, and an adaptation of Camille DeAngelis’ novel of the same name for United Artists.  As with most films that pursue ambitious premises, think back to Julia Ducournau’s Titane (2021), the concept of Guadagnino’s latest film far preceded its Venice Film Festival release as the industry was abuzz with rumors of a cannibal love story.  To factor either of these titles down to such simple terms certainly serves as a good elevator pitch and a barometer for potential audiences, but it also does a great disservice to the films as it puts all of these horror elements floating around in the expectations of audiences before they even get to the Box Office.  Bones and All is not devoid of gore, but it is also not a bloodbath the pitch might imply, either, evidenced because the most visceral and squirm-worthy moment comes not during a feast, but in Maren scraping dried blood from her around her cuticle. The film is much more concerned with the interiority of self-growth, acceptance, and love and uses cannibalism as a way into the story. 

While the marketing promoted this as a reunion between Chalamet and Guadagnino, Bones and All is truly centered around Russell’s Maren.  The script breaks her down time and time again – one step forward, two steps back – and Russell brings many layers of sadness and grief to the role that could easily have been played in a wallowing single note.  She has the burden of introducing us to this strange world through her character’s own ignorance of it all as she passively learns about the world of cannibalism with us, and though the first act of the film finds her very meek and almost submissive, Russel still commands the screen in a very understated way.  As the film progresses, Russell’s performance also grows, and late in the third act audiences will notice a shift in demeanor as Maren finds stability with Lee, and with it comes happiness and confidence.  It is such a carefully constructed gradient of emotions that it is almost unnoticeable during the process, and though it is not the strongest catharsis in Guadagnino’s catalog, Maren’s is a beautiful metamorphosis in its own right. 

Chalamet expands his resume of peculiar roles yet again in Lee, another young cannibal pushed to the edges of society to fend for himself.  The actor is recognizable in brief flashes, but overall blends seamlessly into the role and the greater fabric of the narrative.  Armored with nihilism when introduced, Lee is slow to open up to Maren, almost annoyed with her lack of understanding and their conflicting moral codes, but there is something about her that convinces Lee to allow her to stay.  This cautious dance that brings them together is a beautiful waltz and as the two spin and twirl closer and closer together, it is only a matter of time before they collide with a bang.  Following the ebbs and flows of a romance film, there is the inevitable falling apart late in the second act and while the film leaves Lee to focus on Maren’s growth in this time of separation when they are finally reunited, Chalamet brings a new flame of excitement to the screen.  There is a warmth that was not seen in the early part of their relationship, no doubt aided by what Russell is bringing to the screen in the later throws, but Chalamet also brings a dependency to Lee in the final act that was unseen from the nomadic and independent boy from the beginning of the film. 

While the driving force of Bones and All is the romance between Maren and Lee, the film has a sense of danger about it through Sully (Mark Rylance), an experienced eater who is able to smell out others like him from long distances and is intent on following Maren after she left him early in the narrative.  Rylance is menacing in the role, and least of all when he is covered in blood after a feast, but his mannerisms and intentions always seem to be hiding pointed claws behind the guise of friendship and mentorship making him feel like a true predator despite his rule of not eating other eaters. As despicable as he becomes, the film still does not vilify him in a traditional sense. It does not absolve him of his actions but rather the script shows him as a character clearly motivated by his own guilt as he lives out his own inescapable tragedy. In this way, he becomes a foil to Maren as he roams the country living in solitude and secrecy when all Maren wants to do is find her family and live with love.  

In two smaller roles, Michael Stuhlbarg and David Gordon Green appear in an impactful sequence as Jake, an eater, and Brad, a quiet man who is fascinated by cannibalism, respectively, and while Brad is not an eater himself, he likes to watch.  Harrowing in a separate way from Sully, Jake plants an idea in Lee’s head, eating someone “bones and all,” the first time of which will be a formative moment in his journey as an eater.  Kajganich, even in explaining this concept, maintains a subtlety in his script because Lee will be motivated for the rest of the film to consume someone bones and all and that motivation will loom over the remainder of the 131-minute film, but it never overtakes it completely as Kajganich is careful to make sure it remains Maren’s story.  

There is an incredible amount of care and detail poured into the film, but it never feels meticulous in its construction or set decorations. The world, transient as it is, feels very lived in and the concept of cannibalism is incredibly thought through. The rules of the game are established and revealed over time, and seldom if ever are they crossed. That attention is necessary in all sorties, especially ones dealing with abstract concepts, and Kajganich’s follow-through on establishing what this fringe society of cannibalism looks like in the world of the film, how they operate, and the various sects within it allows for Maren to grow into more than just another cannibal, but to find her own way; her own identity. 

Horror has frequently been used as a way to explain that which we do not fully understand, and as of late, there has been a rise in using this genre to forge a path of acceptance. Ali Abbasi used this template for Border (2018), which feels like a spiritual cousin to Guadagnino’s Bones and All. The tricky part is when using these horror concepts – Abbasi with trolls, and here cannibalism – is framing it in such a way that does not feel villainous to the audience. Unfortunately, the legibility of Bones and All’s metaphor is quite messy. Audiences can easily be forgiven for viewing the film as a queer allegory given the director’s previous work – something which the film does little to shake given that Lee lures a midway worker (Jake Horowitz) to a corn field with the promise of sex but the intention to eat – but that also makes for an uncomfortable thematic conclusion. The problem here comes from the source material, DeAngelis stating that her inspiration for the novel was veganism, which frames a conscious choice into an inescapable genetic markup as cannibalism is shown to be a trait that is passed down. Bones and All does, however, support the notion that Maren, and the other eaters, do not necessarily need to live only on human flesh, but that addition of that source into their diet does lead them to a fuller and more genuine existence. This subtext is buried just out of reach for a casual viewer and that initial vagueness surrounding what exactly this film is about opens it up to some more unfortunate readings not unlike how the Wachowskis’ The Matrix (1999) has recently been spun into a Q-Anon fable. A little bit more clarity is needed as it would really elevate the film to something great because as presented, it is trying to say something, but it struggles to find the words to say what is actually on its mind. 

Bones and All is still a subtly gorgeous project with rustic, Americana vistas captured by Arseni Khachaturan who also seeks to celebrate these characters by framing them all with a sense of respect, power, and dignity that they do not find from the world they inhabit within the film, relieving them of the feeling of otherness imposed upon them. What is most surprising about the design of the film, led by Elliott Hostetter, is how timeless it feels. Even with archaic technology like a Walkman and a paper atlas playing major roles, it feels like a story that could unfold today just as easily as it could in the 1980s when it is actually set. Chalamet and Russell are charming at the center of the film, and the two are unafraid to access some deep emotions and be vulnerable for the camera. Their commitment to Guadagnino’s vision and their trust in each other is key as Lee and Maren are very tricky characters who spend much of the runtime with their guards up, so to see them grow closer to each other is a beautiful thing to witness. The film is, in a word, unconventional, but despite the bold approach, there is a relatability in the story that is easy to access though not so easy to understand at times. What is important, though, is that the film does not feel unfinished, and it begs audiences to peel back those layers, inviting them to revisit the world time and time again and to discover something new, not just within the film, but possibly within themselves, too.