ELECTRIC MEAT

***

Directed by Dan Schaffer. 

Starring Caspian Faye, Emily Booth, Nina Courson

Horror, UK, 95 minutes

Reviewed as part of Tubi FrightFest 2026

An aspiring photographer no sooner finds his perfect muse than she dies on the street, he takes her body home with him and then starts to wonder if she is actually dead, or alive, or in some dual state. So begins a slow unravelling that eventually sees him and his unhinged landlady commit a violent murder, which tips him over into madness. 

That is the storyline of ELECTRIC MEAT, a psychosexual horror that offers a commentary on ambition and inspiration, creativity and destruction. But it so much more than this, and it would do this extraordinary movie a disservice to review it in conventional terms.  

Instead of an hour-and-a-half of entertainment, this is a visually and mentally demanding experience which forces the viewer to work constantly at making sense of it. There are no explanations, no comfortable rhythm of alternating tension and relief, no clear themes, none of the conventions that normally help us to travel along with a movie and follow what’s going on.  

Instead, we are presented with a stream of powerful images which sometimes drive the story forward, sometimes deepen our understanding, but often seem to serve no purpose other than to exist.

The soundscape is equally unconventional. Instead of dialogue, there is a constant, rich texture of noise: static, whooshing, crackling, whispering and a lot of things I couldn’t identify.    

David Lynch’s ERASERHEAD is the obvious comparison, in terms of style, although ELECTRIC MEAT is far more sexual and violent. Therein, possibly, lies the movie’s weakness, it may be too brutal for art house audiences, and too art house for mainstream horror fans.  

I hope it finds its niche. I don’t pretend to understand it – in fact, I’d avoid trying to pin easy interpretations onto it – but I love cinema like this. It’s extreme, it’s difficult, it refuses to behave the way movies generally do, and it reminds us that ‘art’ and ‘content’ are very different things. 

Robyn Fraser