The opening scenes of Manual Martín Cuenca’s “Cannibal” are strikingly viable. The credits roll gradually over a long shot of a corner store during the evening; brilliant lights encompassed by pitch-dark haziness. With recollections of George Sluizer’s “The Vanishing,” and that ghostly detachment we as a whole vibe in such places, Cuenca makes a feeling of unease with only one building up shot, and he enhances the force when the credits end, the camera dish down to a wheel and dashboard, and Cuenca uncovers that it’s been a POV shot: a crazy person pursuing the tired voyagers at the station. What takes after is similarly successful as Carlos pursues his objectives, bringing about a mischance, and trucking a casualty home for, well, supper. Carlos is the “title character,” a man who eats the tissue of other men and has been so secluded sincerely that the interruption of two ladies into his life smashs his exact perspective.
Carlos is an all around regarded tailor in Granada. He likewise eats individuals. Cuenca maintains a strategic distance from blood yet gets the point crosswise over in minutes that don’t include real ingestion, for example, when Carlos puts his first casualty on a table and notices her body like a gourmet expert notices a bit of fish for freshness.