As sure as liver goes down smoothly with fava beans and a nice chianti, every few years a film is released with a warning that it might make you chunder into your popcorn. Be it the sickening chain of The Human Centipede or the bawdy body horror of Jackass, the potential for a movie to induce vomit is a badge of honour, liquid gold marketing and, most importantly, a challenge to hardened audience members.
French cannibal film Raw is the latest to send snowflake film festival folk retching in the aisles, with reports from both Toronto and Cannes that attendees have passed out, vomited and even been hospitalised after witnessing some of the more grisly scenes in the coming-of-age flesh fest.
After eating a giant plate of nachos and heading to a screening with a plastic bag in hand, I can vouch that you will probably be fine, if not a touch nauseated.
This is the first feature film written and directed by Julia Ducournau and I'd even go as far as saying that even the weak of stomach should actually try to brave the brutal brilliance of Raw.
Far from schock for shock's sake, Raw simply follows one young woman's journey to find herself in adulthood - by way of eating human flesh. Make no mistake: this isn't the gross-out torture porn of Hostel or the Saw franchise, tearing bodies apart for the sake of a cheap gasp. Raw is a singular experience that is entirely different.