When released in Spain in June of 1973, this film was released as La semana del asesino (The Week of the Killer), a far more fair title than The Cannibal Man. Despite its misleading English title—the film contains no actual cannibalism—Eloy de la Iglesia‘s psychological thriller uses its serial killer narrative to examine life under authoritarian systems where violence begets violence.

Slaughterhouse worker Marcos becomes a reluctant killer when a simple argument escalates to accidental murder. Rather than face consequences, he commits additional murders to cover his initial crime, gradually transforming his modest home into a charnel house while maintaining his day job processing livestock. The film draws explicit parallels between industrial meat production and human disposability under fascist systems, creating a potent allegory for life under political oppression.

The Cannibal Man gained notoriety in Britain as one of the original Video Nasties, banned by censors who apparently missed its sophisticated political commentary and dismissed it due to its button-pushing title. The film’s inclusion on the DPP (Director of Public Prosecutions) list alongside genuinely exploitative material demonstrates how moral panic often ignores artistic merit in favor of surface-level content evaluation. Our modern critical reassessment now recognizes the work as a significant example of Spanish genre cinema’s ability to embed social criticism within commercial entertainment, which is why it has fallen into the hands of 88 Films for a handsome release.

88 Films presents both the complete international version (98 minutes) and an extended director’s cut (107 minutes, most of which is excised sexually suggestive scenes), allowing viewers to compare different editorial approaches to the material. The high-definition presentation reveals strong detail levels in both intimate psychological moments and gruesome practical effects sequences. As Marcos works in a slaughterhouse, there are plenty of grisly sequences involving the killing of real cows that never shy away from the gore. The restoration preserves the film’s distinctive early-1970s aesthetic while correcting color timing issues that plagued previous releases.

Multiple audio commentaries on the International Cut provide comprehensive context for understanding the film’s historical significance and production circumstances. Academic interviews with Spanish cinema experts explain the work’s position within Franco-era filmmaking traditions, while genre historians discuss its later reputation as a Video Nasty and its eventual release in the UK. The inclusion of multiple trailer versions demonstrates how different markets were first told about the film.

The Cannibal Man, though hard to watch at times because of the IRL violence, rewards viewers willing to look beyond its exploitation surface to discover sophisticated political allegory. This release provides a necessary contextual framework for proper appreciation of this rarely mentioned piece of Spanish genre cinema history.