The Substance

by Mike McGranaghan

The Substance should do for Demi Moore what Pulp Fiction did for John Travolta. The actress gives a dynamic performance, unlike anything else she’s ever done, showing whole new sides of her talent in the process. It took guts for Moore to make this film, which is part body-horror and part dark satire. She’s naked for large chunks of it, and the story is filled with some of the most impressively disgusting prosthetic work you will ever see. It makes David Cronenberg’s Crimes of the Future look like a family feature. Trust me when I say you are not prepared for the sights you’ll see. Moore brings something fundamentally human to the graphic, occasionally gag-inducing mayhem.

She’s Elisabeth Sparkle, a fading movie star now reduced to hosting a television aerobics program. Network executive Harvey (Dennis Quaid) deems her too old and fires her, hoping to find a sexier replacement. Depressed about her fate, Elisabeth signs up to receive “the substance,” a cell-replicating serum peddled anonymously on the black market. After taking an injection, she spawns a younger, better version of herself, dubbed Sue (Margaret Qualley), who is physically perfect in every way. Sue lands her old job. The catch to this scenario is that Elisabeth and Sue must switch back and forth every seven days. That leads to trouble when the latter wants to impede on the former’s time.

There are two things that make The Substance electrifying: what it’s about and how it presents the story. Using the staples of the body-horror subgenre, the movie mercilessly skewers society’s obsession with beauty. The many, many gross visuals, which range from shots of needles penetrating human skin to an astonishingly grotesque bodily mutation, serve to contrast sharply with Elisabeth’s/Sue’s vanity. The more beautiful they strive to become, the uglier their shared predicament makes them. Male characters, meanwhile, are presented as sex-crazed idiots, ever ready to comment crudely on a woman’s appearance. Together, these elements make a strong statement about the way sexiness is often perceived as being the most valuable trait a woman can possess.

That idea is conveyed in an intentionally wild, outrageous manner. Unusual camera angles, flashy editing techniques, exaggerated set design, a jittery electronic musical score, and disquieting sound effects combine to work on viewers psychologically as well as viscerally. Uncomfortably extreme close-ups of objects and body parts add to the impact. Director Coralie Fargeat (Revenge) has a crystal-clear vision, using those qualities to weave seamlessly between genres. One minute you’re laughing, the next you’re squirming in your seat.

Demi Moore delivers a turn that helps pull everything together. Even in the most extreme scenes, she allows us to feel Elisabeth’s pain over the toll aging takes. Some of her key moments are subtle, others the exact opposite of subtle. In all of them, she provides The Substance with its soul. Margaret Qualley is similarly incredible, first playing up her own beauty, then bravely letting go of it. She brings Sue’s ego to vivid life. Dennis Quaid provides levity as the purposefully cartoonish Frank, a guy more prone to thinking with his little head than with his big one.

The film builds to a dazzling, repulsive, no holds barred climax that leaves you with your jaw on the floor. Unparalleled levels of crazy are achieved in the final half-hour. Without giving away anything specific, several characters need to be debased in order to learn their appropriate lessons. Fargeat refuses to spare anyone. A strong stomach is required, but the thematic forcefulness makes it worthwhile. The effects team deserves an Oscar for what they accomplish.

From its opening shot to its matching final image – which takes on a whole new meaning at this point - The Substance is unpredictable and thrilling. For some dumb reason, horror is still often considered the least artistic genre. That’s nonsense. This movie is a masterpiece, a work of art that employs blood, gore, and guts to say something insightful about the lengths people will go to when they focus more on their outer beauty than their inner.

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