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Once an animal has tasted human flesh, there is no way to guarantee that it will not start craving it: The only possible solution is to put the animal down. At least that is what Justine’s father tells the 16-year-old girl in the French-Belgian horror film “Raw,” directed by Julia Ducournau. A tale of unstoppable desire, “Raw” compares female sexual awakening to the protagonist’s gruesome discovery of cannibalistic instinct. Be warned: It is not suited for those with a weak stomach.

Justine (Garance Marillier), a stellar student, belongs to a family of vegetarian veterinarians. She has only just started her freshman year at a prestigious veterinary school when she is subjected to a hazing ritual and forced to eat raw rabbit kidney. Her older sister, an upperclassman with whom Justine has a complicated relationship, does not protect her. This experience awakens her hunger for meat—she goes from burger patties to raw chicken to, ultimately, human flesh.

Justine’s transformation from an innocent girl to a bloodthirsty woman is accompanied by a change in her body or, more precisely, by bodily decay: She gets a rash and sheds her skin, she starts to nervously chew on and swallow her own hair, and she suffers from several bite wounds. The film cleverly uses cannibalism as a metaphor for Justine’s sexual awakening: In her mind, lust and bloodlust become irrevocably conflated. It is no surprise, then, when she starts biting her first lovers.

In an impressive feat of subtlety, Ducournau manages to relate sex and cannibalism not only for her protagonist, but also for the viewer. In one scene, the camera takes on Justine’s perspective and lingers continuously on the upper body of her male roommate, who is playing soccer shirtless. Seeing that she is already caught in her downwards spiral towards cannibalism, it seems to the viewer that she is yearning to devour his body—but in which way? After all, the roommate’s athletic physique might produce feelings of sexual desire as much as cannibalistic instinct.

“Raw” presents both disturbing and everyday images in crisp, colorful shots: Blood is dark red, trees are lush green, and even the grey of the university’s concrete walls is visually intriguing. In fact, the overly saturated colors resemble the kind of photos young people post on social media, which fit a coming-of-age film in the 21st century and could be an intentional visual reference to the peer pressure Justine experiences at university. At the same time, the film also manages to beautifully capture the soft, natural lighting produced by grey and overcast skies—along with their depressing atmosphere.

The film’s soundtrack is less notable, but it also has its moments. For instance, the scene where Justine really gets hooked on human flesh is accompanied by a jarring non-diegetic sound effect. Without being told explicitly, the viewer notices immediately that Justine has just undergone a transformation. Of course, Marillier’s extremely convincing portrayal of the adolescent, insecure character plays a part in this, too.

It must also be noted, however, that “Raw” sometimes is shocking only for shock’s sake, as when Justine’s older sister teaches her to urinate while standing up. These scenes seem rather shallow once the viewer has overcome his or her disgust, because they do not add substantially to the plot.

All in all, however, Ducournau has succeeded in creating one of the most twisted coming-of-age stories that has ever been put to screen. Her horror is gross, disturbing, and nausea-inducing—it is guaranteed to make the viewer squirm in the seat and exhale anticipatory, incredulous “urghs” and “arghs.” “Raw” resembles a train wreck, in the best way possible: The viewer often knows what is about to happen, yet cannot take his or her eyes off the screen.