First you have to disabuse yourself of ever being able to justify this movie's premise: No one goes off and murders everyone they know after killing a taxi driver in a moment of road rage. But if they did...
You'd have this movie, a pseudopsychological study of compulsion and guilt.
The guy works in a slaughterhouse where he conveniently disposes of them, only, in a stroke of poetic justice, to have them turn up back on his dinner plate. Hence Cannibal Man.
Vicente Parra must have been a hunk of his time, as he appears shirtless as often as dressed,.and he develops a relationship with homoerotic undertones, initiated by a stalker-cum-confidant who watches him with binoculars from his elegant high-rise apartment thru the skylight in the mass-murderer's hovel below.
The film screams '70s in style and the use of camera gimmicks not seen since
Overall not bad, if you can suspend your disbelief.
Review of The Cannibal Man
