Sitting down and watching Bones and All (2022), George Bataille's 'A Kiss is the Beginning of Cannibalism' springs to mind when the leads, Lee and Maren—played by Timothée Chalamet and Taylor Russell, respectively—lock lips in a hungry, all-consuming fashion.

The film – based on Camille DeAngelis’s 2015 novel – takes place in 1988 and follows two teenage cannibals who develop feelings for each other on a road trip across the United States. It takes the well-worn coming-of-age story, sets it against the backdrop of Americana, and uses Cannibalism as a metaphor for love. Lee and Maren want to be consumed and devour one another so desperately that it torments them. This metaphor viscerally depicts the agony of loving someone. The horror-drama-romance has a Shakespearean tragedy in its ending as the moment Lee and Mauren attempt to be ordinary people, get a place together, develop a routine and fall into a happy domestic bliss with good morning kisses and meat-free omelets for breakfast, a fellow Eater, and main antagonist, Sully, who has developed a strange obsession with Maren, breaks into their tiny home and kills Lee, who, in his final moments, kills Sully in return. As Lee lies dying in Maren’s arms, he pleads for her to love him and eat him “bones and all” – sobbing and giving him a final kiss, which turns into her sinking her teeth into him; Maren fulfills his dying wish. It is described in the movie that, for a cannibal to devour someone in their entirety, 'bones and all' is the most cathartic experience, the most pleasure their kind can have, and for Maren, it is the person she loves most. They become one and the same the moment his flesh meets her eager tongue.

It’s an old concept, with one example predating Bones and All by 127 years in Stephen Crane’s poem ‘In the Desert’ (1895), where a creature devours its own heart, but it has only recently, within the last decade, perhaps, that it has taken off.

It has evolved into an allegory for an all-consuming obsessive love. When did this happen? When did it change? Perhaps it quietly mutated during our obsession with Vampires – described by Robert Edgar as ‘simply a cannibal with good table manners’.

We love a monster, and our rotating array of horror hyper-fixations was bound to land on it eventually. If the 2010s were The Age of the Vampire, with franchises like Twilight and The Vampire Diaries taking the forefront, one could surmise that the 2020s is The Age of the Cannibal. It had been stewing underneath the vampire long enough.

There was a short-lived attempt at a breakthrough in 2013 with Hannibal, which served as a prequel show to the iconic Silence of the Lambs movie, taking more comprehensive inspiration from the novel series by Thomas Harris that provided the inspiration for the 1991 movie. It starred Hugh Darcy and Mads Mikkelsen as Will Graham and Dr Hannibal Lecter, respectively.

What Darcy and Mikkelsen provide as Graham and Lecter is an expansion of the relationship we are not privy to previously, as much of the books focus on Lecter’s relationship with Clarice Starling, which evolves into them becoming lovers. Still, through Hannibal, we learn it was Will first.

Even though nothing explicitly states it on screen – we are not provided with a sexual scene, a kiss or even a widely anticipated confession - one watch of the show offers everything you need to know. There is a deep romantic lust hidden underneath their conversations, a repertoire which jumps back and forth, a push and pull, an attraction, and a denial. The anatomy of their relationship is unspoken. Despite his code to kill and devour those he deems rude, Hannibal does not do this to Will, regardless of how many times Will crosses what Lecter deems the line, to the point where it could come across as bordering on humourous as it appears that this rudeness, while repulsive in others to Lecter, leaves Hannibal completely enamoured by Graham.

Mikkelson frequently discussed Lecter and Graham's relationship and romantic undertones between them, describing it as a 'love at first sight' moment for Lecter and acknowledging that Hannibal 'knew right there that he had a future with [Will Graham] somehow.'

In the final season, when discussing Hannibal, Will suddenly realises the depth of their relationship despite having not seen him in years. He marries and settles down with a woman, leaving him in limbo between their last meeting and an impending one at an unknown time. There is an itch in the scene as Will tries to figure out how to define their relationship since conventional is certainly not the word for it.

‘Is Hannibal in love with me?’ he bluntly asked Dr Bedelia Du Maurier, played by the incredible Gillian Anderson. De Maurier is a psychiatrist and former friend of Lecter’s, perhaps the only person other than Graham to understand the depths of Hannibal’s mind, as much as it could be understood as Lecter is very controlled in his reactions and responses, ‘that is, of course, what makes him the Satan he is,’ says Mikkelson when expanding on his process behind portraying Lecter.

Du Maurier seems almost amused by this question, wondering how it took Graham so long to realise that it appears everyone else already knew. Instead of answering simply, she rephrases the question back at him before answering it.

‘Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes.’

There is a poetic nature in how this line is phrased. Hannibal is a cannibal—it’s an infamous fact about the character. It is the first thing anyone thinks about when asked about Hannibal Lecter, Silence of the Lambs, or any incredible actors who have portrayed this deeply human monster. There were plenty of times for Lecter to add Will to his ever-growing list of victims he cooked for a dinner party or fed unsuspecting people, but he didn't; instead, he deeply inhaled whenever Will was near him, breathing in his scent; he closed his eyes and let his voice wash over him as though he can taste the words he said on his tongue and was enjoying their flavour. As a Cannibal, Hannibal found the one human who can fill his stomach without ever having to eat him.

‘He definitely, definitely loves Will Graham.’ Mikkelson confirms, ‘as pure as love can get.’

Hannibal appreciates food—the cooking scenes make it very clear how much he appreciates cooking, eating, and the beauty of food—but he never does that to Will because he can only appreciate him through his being alive.

There is no kiss between Will and Hannibal, no beginning of Cannibalism – they already are cannibalising each other in their looks, the lick of the lips, the catches of their breath.

Romantic Cannibalism in media does not appear to be disappearing anytime soon, with TV Shows like YellowJackets (2021-present) becoming increasingly popular, musicians such as Ethel Cain using cannibalistic references in her album Preacher’s Daughter, and forthcoming releases such as The Lamb by Lucy Rose, one of 2025’s highly anticipated literary releases.

Lucy Rose, author of the 2025 novel The Lamb, referenced this herself on social media, partaking in the 'I lied, put your clothes back' meme. In this POV trend, people act like they're talking to someone they've taken home with the intention of sex, but, just before consummating, admit they lied – this is not a hookup at all; it's a lecture. This trend is often paired with the Succession theme. Rose, holding proof copies of her debut, is paired with text on the screen that reads, 'I lied. Put your clothes back on. We're going to talk about Cannibalism as a metaphor for love.’

The cannibal motif has sunk its teeth into us and does not plan to let us go anytime soon, but why Cannibalism? Some might ask, and this is a valid question, considering the extreme nature of the material. One cannot discuss the implications of Cannibalism without mentioning that, as a whole, people don't want to partake in Cannibalism but rather relate to the innately primary desire for an unrestrained, all-consuming love.

Compared to the media’s previous horror obsessions, such as The Vampire, The Werewolf, and The Witch, The Cannibal is divorced entirely from supernatural elements, making it the most human and horrifying monster. It’s unruly and unsavoury. It’s repulsive yet compelling, beautiful and horrific in equal measure. We shiver and shake when we hear about it, but we devour it in our books and on our screens.

It is our deepest taboo and most forbidden fascination, which is why it has endured. Books of the past have explored other social taboos, but only recently have we turned our attention to The Cannibal.

Even though we hold these actions reprehensible in our beliefs, society has a deep curiosity about the act itself — even if it did kill the cat. Where did this fascination come from? And more importantly, can we stomach it?

When pondering the question herself, Mary Wild, Freudian psychoanalyst, cinephile, and co-host of The Projections Podcast, defined it ‘as a longing for intimacy, a longing for psychological or emotional closeness, that is actually taking the form of a physical reunion or keeping that person as close to you as possible, says Wild. ‘Physical intimacy in terms of intercourse, that’s not going to do it. You actually need to ingest them; you need to metabolise that person.’

There has always been a close relationship between Horror and Food, e.g., Rosemary’s Baby (1968), Poltergeist (1982), and Raw (2016). In her essay, “There’s Nothing Scarier Than a Hungry Woman,” Laura Maw explores this topic, summarising, ‘There is something uncomfortable and enthralling about watching a woman devour what she likes with intent,’ as women in horror listen to their bodily urges, consequences be damned. With this in mind, it’s not surprising the main cannibals in 21st-century media tend to be women, and it’s not surprising there is an erotic undertone in all of these fictional portrayals, as ‘the mere concept of pleasure, especially tied to feminine pleasure, has been considered taboo or worthy of derision, not just in art but society in general,’ Pajiba writer Kayleigh Donaldson says, 'Female pleasure, even in 2024, is still a deeply taboo topic to explore. When women read books such as Sarah J Maas or other books deemed 'spicy' (slang term for sexually explicit content), it is often met with jeers and demeaning comments about the book in question being pornographic, claiming the woman must be unfulfilled in her life or sex-crazed. Still, when it comes down to men doing something about fulfilling said woman's pleasure, there is a noticeable gap in satisfaction, as a recent study from the University of Michigan found that 82% of men reported orgasming during their most recent casual sexual encounter compared with only 32% of women in the study. Gillian Anderson's 'Want' (2024) also explores women's sexuality and fulfilment, asking how they feel about sex when they are given the right to remain anonymous. The responses showed that women have more fantasies than are being met by their partners, straight or otherwise – perhaps that is why when we see the Female Cannibal on screen, we are excited as she is having her desires met; she wants to eat, consequences be damned, she finds pleasure, satisfaction, fulfilment and any other synonym you can think of by devouring human flesh. It is taboo in two senses of the word – Cannibalism and female pleasure.

Female horror characters often embody society’s fears about women – if The Exorcist can be seen as a ‘male nightmare of female puberty’, described as such by Peter Biskind, then one could argue The Female Cannibal is the fear of unsatisfied women and their refusal to remain unfulfilled anymore – in sex and love – and as a result, they become monstrous women, quenching their first, eating their fill, enacting what they desire – because it was never really about food.

When we look at the first act of Cannibalism in YellowJackets, there is an explicit eroticism present, starkly contrasting the barbaric devouring we see in the show's season one opening.

The television show follows a group of teenage girls involved in a 1996 plane crash, their reversion to a feral, unhinged state and resorting to becoming cannibals in the Canadian wilderness, hunting each other as food, their subsequent rescue, and the consequences of the event in their adult lives in the year 2021.

When the group finally resorts to eating the corpse of their friend, Jackie, there is a split scene between the act itself and what the teenagers imagine is happening – a bacchanalian feast where all are draped in togas and gold crowns with a table overflowing with fruits laying before them; to them, it is rich fruit, the juices of which spill from their mouths and drip off their chins, flowing down their arms. They laugh and cheer and clink goblets of wine.

For Shauna, the show's lead and Jackie's best friend, it is the climax of their friendship, an all-consuming relationship in which Shauna reveals she could never tell where Jackie ended and she began. As teenagers, throughout their friendship, the relationship is fraught with an undefinable undertone for both girls. They were the same, more than the same; they were one person, yet, fundamentally, Shauna was a lousy friend to Jackie. Before they board the plane, Shauna watches Jackie walk into her home, the scene slow-motion, and the moment the door closes, Shauna grabs Jackie's boyfriend (whom she later marries) and initiates sex with him moments after Jackie kisses him goodbye. There is jealousy lingering in the air the entire time – but who is the jealousy aimed at? Jackie? or the boyfriend who gets to kiss Jackie? It is, on Shauna's part, a complicated mixture of friendship, admiration, envy, and jealousy. At once, Shauna loves Jackie, resents her, wants to be her, and wants to own her. Jackie haunts her throughout the first season; after all, they are part of one another and one person.

At the beginning of season 2, Shauna talks to a manifestation of Jackie. At this point, Shauna is heavily pregnant, and Jackie dies after the fallout of discovering her best friend and boyfriend had an affair. Wracked with guilt, talking to her corpse is the only way Shauna can cope. As Shauna considers the bear meat the others have hunted for dinner, ghost Jackie says, 'That's not what you're hungry for,' leaning forward with a toying smirk on her face. At this point, Shauna stared back, gawking, before breaking Jackie's ear off and placing it in her mouth; her cravings subsided.

Pregnancy has been known to amplify cravings, and according to an Old Wives Tale, if a pregnant woman has a craving for something and does not get it, the baby will have a birthmark resembling what was craved - is it merely a coincidence that Shauna's daughter wears Jackie's old sports kit for Halloween and Shauna has to do a double take?

Shauna hungrily sleeps with Jackie's Boyfriend for the same reason Shauna eats Jackie's corpse—because it is the closest Shauna can come to sleeping with Jackie and because it is the only way Shauna can see them becoming one.

Shauna tries to justify her actions, claiming to the group that Jackie would want them to eat her, but everyone, Shauna included, knows it’s a lie. It’s excuse after excuse. Just as a cannibal consumes flesh, Shauna wants to consume everything about Jackie—her thoughts, her emotions, and her sense of self; she is constantly torn between wanting to be Jackie or being with Jackie.

The episode following the Bacchanal of Jackie’s Flesh shows the morning after, with what the writers described as a hangover from their actions. All the girls are filled with regret and horrified by what they have done – the disgust is palatable - but Shauna’s regret is different. She regrets it for the rest of her life, not because of her betrayal of her friend or that she had crossed a moral line, but because Jacke is no longer there and misses her forever. After all, all Shauna wanted was to have Jackie in her life, fully recognise who and what Shauna is, and no longer be alone. She wants to consume and be consumed in the most literal way possible; she would have gladly let Jackie take a bite out of her, even if it’s never explicitly said.

Like, Will and Hannibal, there is no kiss to begin the Cannibalism; there is only Cannibalism, but for Shauna, that is all she can do—she never got the chance to come to terms with her feelings for Jackie, and even as an adult, she deeply represses them. She is haunted by Jackie wherever she goes and lives the expected life Jackie never gets to have. While Will has an epiphany about how consuming and complex the relationship between him and Hannibal is, Shauna never gets that moment, as the confusing hunger she experienced as a teenage girl remains heavily alluded to as a crush, a denial, a moment of weakness, a regret. Shauna will never get closure as Will did. Maybe by eating Jackie, Shauna felt she was able to hold onto Jackie together, a savage marriage ceremony of sorts, where instead of intermingling blood or fasting hands, they consumed flesh instead – that way, Jackie would be a part of her forever.

It was a feast of love regardless of how destructive the relationship was at its core. It was beautiful destruction, but destruction nonetheless. The relationship's aftermath is left to waste, with nothing left but the remnants of what once was.