What is the most depraved, transgressive, morally reprehensible act imaginable? What deed shatters societal taboos, irrevocably isolating an individual from broader humanity? (Here’s a hint: What pairs nicely with fava beans and Chianti?) That’s right—I’m talking cannibalism, baby! Whether fictional, actual, alleged, or metaphorical, cannibalism has long been a subject of obsession and macabre curiosity in film, literature, and pop culture more broadly. Popular film review sites observed the subject matter’s resurgence over the past decade, and “The Top Cannibal Films and TV Shows of All Time” listicles accrued accordingly. Some notable fictional films and series addressing the taboo topic in recent years include Fresh (2022), Santa Clarita Diet (2017), Brand New Cherry Flavor (2021), The Neon Demon (2016), and, my personal favorite, Raw (2016).
The hit Showtime original Yellowjackets is the latest project champing at the gory, man-eating bit. Entering its third season after a Valentine’s Day premiere, the series continues its foundational ethical dilemma, asking, “Once you eat your friend, how do you reintegrate into ‘normal’ society?” The answer, of course, is you can’t, really. It’s a fleshy rendition of Plato’s allegory of the cave; naiveté and frivolity are relics of the past, a forgotten country. Grim metamorphoses mark the loss, and a group of primarily young women (“intrepid girls and a few dudes,” says Van) are left with the fallout of some of the worst traumas imaginable. Although the surviving Yellowjackets vow to live quietly sans acknowledgment of their forbidden meals, without fail, any veneer of respectability or normalcy the women have created crumbles the moment anyone begins to poke or prod.
One thing is for sure: the girls are not alright. “The reality was that even if rescue came, they could never go home again because of what they’ve done. Because of what they’ve become.” So says one of our primary ruthless leads, Shauna (Sophie Nélisse/Melanie Lynskey), in the new season’s first episode—but the wild is ostensibly no place for judgment. On-screen, these teenage girls are granted a rare opportunity to unleash their primal instincts, i.e., to be animals.
Yellowjackets hit streaming in 2021. A year prior, Bones and All, the romantic, cannibalistic road-trip film starring Timothée Chalamet and Taylor Russell, ruffled feathers for pairing the risqué trope with YA audiences. Conversely, Yellowjackets has been widely praised for its strong performances, complexities, and social commentary. It’s been nominated for several prestigious awards, and Lynskey was honored with the Critics' Choice Television Award for Best Actress in a Drama Series. The program has also spawned a loyal swarm of fans eager to dissect every clue and offer theories to address the show’s mysteries.
I mean, coming of age is horror, right? Especially as a girl. Think Ginger Snaps (2001), the vibe predecessor to the genius Jennifer’s Body (2009); The Craft (1996); and the angsty mama matriarch to rule them all, Carrie (1976). Cannibalism, in this context, is contending with notions of power, dominance, consumption, desire, identity, trauma, and survival. I’ll spare you the academic theory of it all, but let’s just say teenage girls being the primary vehicle to dissect this cannibalism conversation is fascinating.
The show follows a New Jersey high school girls’ soccer team headed to nationals on a privately chartered plane that crashes somewhere in Northwestern North America, presumably deep in the Canadian wilderness. The pilots, the head coach, and a few teammates are all lost in the wreck, and the singular remaining adult is Assistant Coach Ben. The survivors are then left to fend for themselves after their equipment manager, Misty (Samantha Hanratty), who later becomes an unhinged cat-sweater-wearing geriatric nurse (Christina Ricci), secretly smashes the flight recorder, all but eliminating their chances of being found.
Throughout each episode, audiences are jostled between dual, non-linear timelines. The first begins in 1996, when the girls were stranded in the wilderness for approximately 19 months, and the second is present day, where some of the young women have adult equivalents while others do not. The series’ first season hones in on a handful of surviving selves: Shauna, Taissa (Jasmin Savoy Brown/Tawny Cypress), Natalie (Sophie Thatcher/Juliette Lewis), and Misty. Season two sees the addition of an older Vanessa (Liv Hewson/Lauren Ambrose) and Lottie (Courtney Eaton/Simone Kessell). While the initial scenes of the pilot episode foreshadow the inevitable consumption to come, the series keeps its audience iron-deficient until season two, when Shuana finally munches her best friend Jackie’s ear. By the end of that season, at least two people are eaten and more are dead, although none are the girl in the first episode.
This dynamic narrative structure and the sheer quantity of female characters afford the women and girls involved dynamic, rich complexity. The resulting characters are as varied as their maladaptive coping mechanisms; they span a variety of classes, ethnicities, sexualities, and religions, affording them much room to breathe and grow in as many directions as possible. They are mean, vindictive, spiritual, spiteful, selfish, paranoid, schizophrenic, alcoholic, and they don’t particularly like each other. Fate, secrecy, and violence—accidental or otherwise—unite them begrudgingly, and shenanigans ensue.
What initially drew me to this series was the dynamic cast of talented women spanning multiple generations, including the legend Juliette Lewis and her up-and-coming counterpart Sophie Thatcher (check out Companion if you haven’t already; pass on Heretic). Quick aside: how the show’s creators could even justify this series continuing without Juliette Lewis (who has appeared upset about what she called the “devolution” of her character) is unfathomable. I agree with her in many ways and lament that season two’s finale felt rushed and almost disrespectful to adult Natalie.
Granted, I will tune into most programs that center on some intense, messy female leads, but Yellowjackets is some of the best television I’ve recently encountered, regardless. Season three marches on and includes the casting of two-time Oscar-winning actress Hilary Swank, although her role has been successfully kept under wraps for now. Comedian Joel McHale has been added to the roster as a guest star, as well. However, I fear that, like the addition of Walter (Elijah Wood) as Misty’s love interest and fellow-frequenter on an online citizen detective forum, his presence may feel unnecessary and irritating much of the time.
While Yellowjackets’ second season saw a bit of a campy, lighthearted tonal deviation from the first, the first two episodes of season three see a welcome return to the smart, dark elements that initially made the show so compelling. If you like the intrigue of Lost, the surreal, deep-forest enigma of Twin Peaks, or the study of trauma and memory in Severance (and have a strong stomach), I implore you to binge away. Yellowjackets balances high grotesquery with trite mundanity—dark humor, horror, psychological thrill, and mystery. It’s Lord of the Flies, but the ladies have also gone feral.
