Wild, or 50 Shades of Grey Wolf, is Germany’s erotic response to Beauty and the Beast. If the beast were a feral wolf and beauty his captor. Like an anarchistic misinterpretation of To Catch a Predator, the German feature from Berlin-native Nicolette Krebitz finds a dissatisfied Ania (Lillith Stangenberg) serendipitously strike up a relationship with a city-dwelling wolf that develops into an obsession after she traps it in her high-rise apartment.

A feverish descent into antisocial madness and sexual liberation, Wild is a devilish antagonistic film, sure to disarm any viewer not comfortable with the likes of bestiality or entropy run amock. Any good homemaker will find themselves personally affronted by the sheer disorder that takes over Krebitz’ set. As Ania further embraces her new wild side, her once manicured life tends towards chaos and ultimately destruction with the transformation taking on a surprisingly natural quality.

But the more Ania pulls back from society, the more it seems to embrace her. This ebb and flow of warring ideologies – the order of the civilized world and the anarchy of the animal kingdom – leads to arresting encounters between man and beast both. From run-ins with her overly-understanding but suspiciously hawkish superior to a chance sexual encounter with some Persian custodians, Ania’s embracing her animal side very much underscores Krebitz’ underlying through line about feminine sexual liberation. “It’s about the desire to lead a life driven by instinct,” Krebitz states. “The film should seduce and intoxicate: right after watching it, the best thing to do is jump on your lover.” And she’s not wrong. For all the normative no-no’s on fearless display, there’s a feral sex appeal to Ania’s transgressions. Her abandonment, nay rejection, of social norms; her foregoing salad for raw meats; her chucking out the compact and going to work in tatters. She’s literally willing to throw herself down the garbage shoot in order to lock into this new lifestyle. In this regard, she’s taken a page from the Grizzly Man and has embraced the lawlessness of animal instinct with open arms. But is the result as (ahem) grizzly?

As Ania, Stangenberg’s role is two-fold. She must sell the psychology of Krebitz’s twisted, liberated narrative, one which has no qualms offending good taste at any turn. But almost more importantly, Stangenberg must grapple with a demanding kind of virile physicality. She’s caught somewhere between Stacy Martin in Nymphomaniac and Zoe Bell in Death Proof. Also Kristen Stewart from Twilight, cuz wolf crush. She’s reckless abandonment made flesh and Stangenberg handles the challenge with grace.

With a psyche that’s palpably splintering and reforming, carving new neural pathways, Ania’s metamorphosis is not unlike the pictorial representation of “this is your brain on drugs.” It’s impressive to behold and Stangenberg sells it well. Not thematically dissimilar from recent German horror fare Der Nachmahr, Wild takes a different approach to everyday horror – challenging both the mind and the gut with its boundary-pushing narrative – but ultimately ends up similarly esoteric and odd but totally entrancing.

CONCLUSION: An intemperate examination of instinctual impulses, ‘Wild’ is true to its name. This German story of a woman who falls for a wolf is sure to incite outrage from more gentle-minded viewers but those looking for an totally-out-there rabbit hole will find some wildly original plots to sink their fangs into.