Disrespecting boundies and gaslighting are relationship red flags, but surely cannibalism is more of a grey one...

Those familiar with the art of ‘mukbang’ will understandably poise themselves for a good time with Aimee Kuge’s titillatingly titled debut feature. For the uninitiated (don’t worry, that was me a fortnight ago), mukbang originates from South Korea, vaguely translates to “eating shows”, and is exactly that: a live-streamed video of a host eating, often copious amounts.

Put the internet sensation and cannibalism together, and you can expect things to get pretty deliciously dark. Indeed, Cannibal Mukbang does not disappoint on that front, but there’s a greater appetite for human relationships and storytelling beneath the title-promising gorefest. Or should I say, gore-feast.

When shy, introverted Mark is accidentally run over outside of a service station by the cool and confident Ash he met just moments before, the twist-of-fate rendezvous sparks an unlikely romance. His mundane life, which revolves around a job he hates, weekly therapist visits and his douchebag brother is soon galvanised as he falls head over heels for the sexy quirkiness of the ‘mukbanger’. But when he’s confronted with Ash’s secret, the blossoming of a sweet rom-com takes a deliciously dark hairpin turn towards twisted revenge romance.

Cannibal love stories are having quite the moment – Luca Guadagnino’s Bones And All was a star of the Venice Film Festival two years ago, while Fresh and Raw are two of the more provocative and uncompromising horrors in recent years. The roots for Kuge’s screenplay lie in her past career as a food photographer in New York, and a story she heard about a friend (of a friend of a friend etc) who apparently found out they’d been served human meat on a first date. That explains Mark’s vomiting after his first meal with Ash, then…

Cannibal Mukbang certainly indulges in its cannibalist exoticism and, quite rightly too, has riotous good fun with it. But at the same time, and perhaps more so, it traverses the endearing themes of every young, early romance with a surprisingly tender, deft hand – the nerves and uncertainties, the excitements and first times. While they connect over their tortured pasts and find comfort in one another, we watch a lovelorn Mark struggle to fight who he really is in the name of love. Through Mark’s perspective (save from one flashback scene of Ash’s childhood trauma, suitably shot on Super-8!), it’s ultimately a physical metaphor for how relationships can eat you up.

There’s nothing particularly surprising about the events that unfold, with the premise sticking to the path it sets down pretty early on, but the bittersweet ending is a satisfying wrap-up for two souls trying to find light amidst a dark, impossible love.