by Foster Harlfinger, Contributing Writer
Luca Guadagnino joins the ranks of directors like George Miller and Ang Lee, whose careers have become delightfully hard to pin down. His latest feature, Bones and All, provides an interesting blend of the stylistic sensibilities from Guadagnino’s previous two films, the melancholically romantic Call Me by Your Name and his nightmarish remake of Dario Argento’s horror classic, Suspiria.
Taylor Russell, fresh off her breakout in 2019’s Waves, stars as Maren, a troubled teenager roaming the country back roads with Timothée Chalamet’s mysterious Lee. Their budding romance finds itself complicated by the unsavory secret they share: Maren and Lee are cannibals.
Citing Bonnie and Clyde, Badlands, and True Romance as inspirations, Guadagnino and company do not sugarcoat the bloody reality of Maren and Lee’s compulsions, but the film undoubtedly asks you to look past their cannibalistic desires to find empathy for their more redeeming qualities. For many — and perhaps most — viewers, this will be no easy task. The depictions of cannibalism, though surprisingly few and far between, result in their fair share of seat-squirming on behalf of the audience. It is therefore a tremendous credit to the craftsmanship on display how easy it is to get lost in the film’s sensitive depiction of young love in spite of its gory tendencies.
Of course, one can’t help but allow the recent allegations against Guadagnino and Chalamet’s Call Me by Your Name collaborator, Armie Hammer, to linger in the background, though we should all hope that the film’s subject matter remains nothing more than a crazy coincidence. In spite of its deliberately provocative subject matter, it would be silly to view Bones and All as an endorsement for cannibalism, given its obvious use in the film as a metaphor for “otherness.” Maren and Lee may as well have been drug addicts or simply misunderstood loners — the point is that, against all odds, they have found one another.
The boundary-pushing romance at the film’s center works precisely because of how it forces its participants to grapple with the human impact of their bloodlust. As shared by Lee in a particularly revealing argument with Maren, their relationship is as beautiful as it is painful, in that it holds a mirror to the reality of their gruesome appetites, a fact about themselves which they might otherwise attempt to ignore. The film’s otherness metaphor is deepened when we are introduced to a handful of characters who share Maren and Lee’s unfortunate desires, including an unrecognizable performance from the criminally underappreciated Michael Stuhlbarg in a highly memorable, one-scene role, and a delightfully meaty and unexpected turn from Oscar-winner Mark Rylance.
To call Rylance’s performance a scene-stealer would be the understatement of the year. The stuffier members of the Academy won’t want to touch this film with a 10-foot pole, but Rylance’s menacing turn as a frighteningly experienced cannibal deserves to sweep the supporting actor categories at this year’s awards circuit. At once terrifying and darkly comic, Rylance steals the entire film with his creepy southern accent and a silly little feather in his hat. His performance is made even more brilliant when one looks past the surface level discomfort generated by his character’s lingering presence. When viewed through the film’s metaphorical lens, Sully is a character who seems never to have found a partner in his otherness as Maren and Lee have found each other, and Rylance’s subtle exploration of an otherwise over-the-top character never loses that sense of sorrow.
The film’s poetic story is matched only by its uncharacteristically romantic score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross along with Guadagnino’s striking eye for color and shot framing, though the latter should not come as a surprise, given that when he is not directing, Guadagnino has spent much of his free time in recent years working as an interior designer. From Chalamet’s ripped jeans and dyed red hair to Maren and Lee’s baby blue pick-up truck cruising along a salmon-colored sunset, everything about Bones and All’s aesthetic feels instantly iconic. Romantic and transgressive in equal measure, Bones and All feels like a Gen-Z Bonnie and Clyde, though far more compelling than such a descriptor would suggest.
It is difficult not to recognize the quality of the film’s artful presentation or its sensitive, nuanced performances, but of course, the scenery is not the only thing this cast is chewing. Though the subject matter will be an immediate turn-off for many viewers, its success should be measured not with box office results or awards recognition, but by whether it is able to maintain its emotional resonance long-term. Bones and All is a film made by outsiders, for outsiders, and for all its blood and gore, this hypnotizing fusion of romance and horror serves as an ode to those who live on the fringes of society and a celebration of those lucky enough to find a partner to share in their otherness.
Score: 8/10
Bones and All is currently playing in theaters
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