Death, Decay, and an Awkward Doctor Visit
There are body horror films that make you squirm in fascination, and then there’s Contracted (2013), a movie that makes you want to immediately bathe in bleach and call your therapist. Directed by Eric England, Contracted bills itself as a metaphor for decay, trauma, and the fragility of the human body — but it mostly feels like watching a very slow, very gross public service announcement about why you should never accept drinks from strangers.
It’s as if The Fly had a one-night stand with a CDC pamphlet, and the resulting offspring was left to rot in a damp film festival basement.
The Plot: Sex, Lies, and Maggots
Our unlucky protagonist is Samantha (Najarra Townsend), a young woman still nursing heartbreak after breaking up with her girlfriend. She’s dragged to a party by a friend, where she’s roofied and assaulted by a man named BJ (yes, really — subtlety is not this film’s strong suit). The next day, she wakes up hungover, bleeding, and dealing with what can only be described as “the worst yeast infection in cinematic history.”
At first, it seems like she’s got a bad case of post-party regret. But when your hangover symptoms include maggots falling out of your body and your fingernails detaching like confetti at a funeral, you might be dealing with something worse than dehydration.
Soon, Samantha’s body begins to decompose in real time. Her skin pales, her veins darken, her hair falls out in clumps, and her doctor — clearly the worst medical professional since Dr. Giggles — insists it’s just “a viral infection.” Sure, doc. And The Walking Dead is just a mild flu outbreak.
A New Spin on “It’s Not You, It’s Me”
Samantha’s slow descent into rot isn’t just physical — it’s social, too. Her mom thinks she’s back on drugs, her ex-girlfriend treats her like an emotional rash, and her coworkers can’t stop noticing that she’s literally oozing onto their salads.
In one unforgettable moment, Samantha’s fingernail falls into a customer’s food. The customer screams. The boss freaks out. And Samantha’s response is to… put her sunglasses back on. Honey, no. When you’re bleeding from every orifice and dropping body parts into Caesar dressing, maybe it’s time to take a sick day.
Things go from bad to absolutely revolting when Samantha’s body starts producing its own maggot population. It’s like Alien meets WebMD, if both had been written by someone who really hates brunch.
The Metaphor: Because Nothing Says “Trauma” Like a Decomposing Lesbian
Contracted clearly wants to be about something. Sexual assault, shame, and the way society pathologizes women’s bodies — all good, rich material. Unfortunately, Eric England treats these themes with all the grace of a zombie trying to perform brain surgery.
Instead of exploring Samantha’s psychological pain, the film leers at her physical disintegration like a kid poking a dead frog with a stick. It’s exploitative without being insightful — a feminist horror movie written by someone who thinks “menstrual blood = symbolism.”
The result is a tone-deaf mess: a supposed “social commentary” that’s about as sensitive as an STI joke at a Planned Parenthood fundraiser.
The Characters: Bad Decisions in Human Form
There isn’t a single likable person in Contracted, which would be fine if the film were self-aware about it. But instead, it expects you to care about people who make every possible wrong choice.
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Samantha (Najarra Townsend): Townsend tries her best, but her performance is trapped between “genuinely terrified” and “I can’t believe I signed this contract.” Her transformation should be tragic — instead, it feels like a long commercial for abstinence.
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Alice (Alice Macdonald): The kind of friend who brings you to a party, watches you get drugged, and then yells at you for being “weird” the next day. A true gem.
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Nikki (Katie Stegeman): The ex-girlfriend from Hell. Emotionally unavailable, cruel, and completely uninterested in Samantha’s obvious medical crisis. She’s the kind of person who’d text “U up?” to someone in hospice.
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Riley (Matt Mercer): The nice guy who crushes on Samantha and ends up having the worst hookup in cinematic history. His penis will need its own trauma support group.
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BJ (Simon Barrett): The rapist and necrophile whose actions set everything in motion. Fun fact: his name might as well stand for “Bad Judgment.”
The Tone: Misery Porn with Maggots
Some horror films find beauty in decay — Cronenberg, Thanatomorphose, even Raw. Contracted just finds more decay. It’s not so much horror as it is an endurance test: how long can you watch someone rot before your lunch makes a surprise cameo?
The movie’s greatest sin isn’t its grossness; it’s its emptiness. Every scene feels like a dare: “You still watching?” And yet, the grotesque effects can’t hide how emotionally hollow it all is. The story wants to shock, not move — and by the time Samantha’s fingers fall off, you’re less horrified than just impatient.
The Dialogue: Straight Outta Horror 101
There’s nothing quite like hearing a doctor say, “It’s probably an STD,” while your patient is literally bleeding from the eyes. Or a mom shouting, “You’re ruining your life!” at her zombie daughter, as though grounding her might cure the maggot infestation.
The film’s script reads like a rejected Lifetime screenplay rewritten by a 13-year-old who just discovered body horror. It’s a parade of clichés — “You don’t understand me, Mom!” “You’re acting weird!” “I’m fine!” — made infinitely worse by the fact that everyone delivers their lines as if they’ve been tranquilized.
The Ending: Love, Death, and the World’s Worst Car Accident
The finale of Contracted is pure chaos. After murdering her ex, her friend, and basically anyone who gets within a five-foot radius of her bodily fluids, Samantha hooks up with Riley, only to unleash a biblical plague from her nether regions.
When Riley discovers the maggot infestation inside her, it’s a moment of cinematic glory — horrifying, yes, but also unintentionally hilarious. If you’ve ever wanted to see a man look directly into the abyss of poor life choices, this is your scene.
The film ends with Samantha crashing her car, emerging as a full-fledged zombie, and attacking her mother. It’s meant to be tragic, but honestly, it just feels like mercy. After 80 minutes of watching her rot, we’re all ready for the credits.
The Message: Don’t Have Sex. Ever.
If Contracted has a moral, it’s this: human intimacy leads to death, disease, and possibly an army of undead corpses. It’s a cautionary tale that makes Carrie’s prom look like a healthy coping mechanism.
The film could have been a powerful metaphor for trauma, consent, and the violation of bodily autonomy. Instead, it feels like a D.A.R.E. presentation directed by David Cronenberg’s less talented cousin.
Final Verdict: The STD That Should’ve Stayed in Quarantine
Contracted wants to disgust you — and on that front, it succeeds brilliantly. But beyond the body horror and the cheap shocks, there’s nothing of substance. It’s nihilism without nuance, tragedy without empathy, and horror without heart.
Najarra Townsend gives it her all, but she’s stranded in a script that mistakes gross-out effects for depth. The result is a film that’s less “scary” and more “infectious” — you’ll be thinking about it for days, mostly while scrubbing your eyeballs.
Verdict: ★★☆☆☆
A disease-ridden descent into decay that tries to be profound but ends up being just putrid. If you ever wanted a movie to ruin dinner, romance, and reproductive health all at once, congratulations — your search is over.
