★☆☆☆☆
Erotically-charged, handsomely lit, and phenomenally dull: horror as a BDSM fashion shoot with nothing behind the eyes.
Dan Schaffer’s film looks a treat and offers almost nothing else. It’s erotically charged and well styled, bracingly lit, the sort of thing that would cut into a striking two-minute trailer, and Emily Booth and Sylvia Soska turn up to lend it some cult-horror kudos for a certain crowd.
The plot, such as it is, sees a struggling photographer and butcher take a murdered model’s body home as a muse, only to spiral into madness as she seemingly exists in a state between life and death.
If your main reason for buying a ticket is ogling glamour models in moody light, you may leave content. For anyone hoping the images add up to a film, less so. The details are incoherent, the sort that fall apart the moment you ask a basic question about who is doing what and why, while the broad strokes are pat and obvious, telegraphing every turn long before it arrives. The editing runs at student-film level, cutting for effect rather than sense, and the whole thing carries itself with an obnoxious, self-impressed swagger that a properly provocative film might have earned and this one has not.
Mostly, though, it is dull. Phenomenally, cavernously dull, in the specific way of a film convinced it is far more dangerous than it actually is. Style with nothing underneath goes tedious fast, and there is a great deal of runtime here to fill on vibes alone. Feel free to project it mute onto the wall of your industrial goth night; for the love of god, there is no good reason to actually sit down and watch it.
Electric Meat played at Tubi FrightFest in London.