I’m often put off by early reaction hyperbole. We tend to go overboard with our praise out of festival and press screenings, the when and where and with whom you’ve seen a film often dictating how you feel. This is how you can get movies with 11 minute standing ovations but upon wider release its reception wanes significantly. “The Substance” has been a film longed hyped up by fellow critics and people lucky enough to see early screenings at its official premiere at the Cannes Film Festival and stop at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) a few months later. The Palm D’or winner had a lot to live up to, and I am happy to report that not only did it meet all expectations, it exceeded them. Nothing can prepare you for this blood soaked, body horror critique of feminine beauty.
It is both familiar in its basic outline and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.
I know I’m falling victim to the very kind of exaggerated superlative hype I just critiqued – and to be fair, I did see “The Substance” at Midnight Madness at TIFF – which is about as rowdy and hyped as a crowd will ever get for these kinds of things. But from the very first shot, I was dialed in. And then I was leaned in and drawn in by the hyper-stylized, pulpy score, vibrant colors, and almost manic first hour. And then I was sitting forward in my chair, marveling at the grotesque but somehow funny body horror dangers that filled the screen. And then my jaw hit the floor for the last 40 minutes and I never picked it up again until the credits rolled. It lures you in with familiarity and gleeful violence, the kind that Cronenberg heads love to relish in, and assaults you with “Evil Dead” levels of blood that in context, cannot predict or believe how far Coralie Fargeat is willing and able to go.
Fargeat’s debut “Revenge” holds the key to her follow up here. She is an expert at her own gaze through blood soaked hallways and trope subversions, and while her first feature is a bit more restrained simply by way of limited resources, “The Substance” is what she can do when budget and ideas are seemingly infinite and unfettered. What transpires is an all out nightmare, with Fargeat holding nothing back and painting her bloody canvas with any brush that tickles her fancy. It is scale and scope to the 10th degree of sicko mode, and it unleashes itself onto its audience with unrelenting appeal and horror. It is bold, audacious, ambition, chaotic and yet somehow controlled and purposeful with every wild element serving to further the story.
“The Substance” follows aging star Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) who is essentially dumped from her failing TV show for someone younger. Unable to cope, she decides to take a black market drug known only as the substance that promises to make her a better, more perfect version of herself. That’s about as much as I am willing to reveal, because like all of the best films, it works best when you know as little as possible. It’s a film that is instantly robbed of its greatest assets when you’re given too much, and you want the experience to be untainted by foreknowledge. The film stars Moore, Margaret Qualley, and Dennis Quaid.
For Moore and Qualley, it is a reminder that Moore is not forgotten nor has she missed a single beat in her talents. She is absolutely fearless in “The Substance,” the perfect encapsulation of her rise to stardom and somewhat falling out of the public eye. Her casting makes the messaging clear: Hollywood (and society at large for that matter) treats women like objects, chews them up and spits them out for unattainable beauty standards alone and nothing else, causing women to go to great and self destructive lengths to preserve their status and maintain the status quo. There couldn’t be a better choice than Demi Moore, who is completely in sync what what Fargeat is cooking the kitchen and clearly trusts her implicitly. Qualley is equally good and equally willing, unafraid to continue to take risks and take on all challenges to keep her career varied and interesting. The two juxtaposed opposite each other (kind of) is so intentional, with both women representing the embodiment of Fargeat’s scathing social commentary. Moore is the true standout among the two, though. Not by any fault of Qualley, just that this film is specific about its lead and frames all of its ideas around it.
Beyond the bordello of beauty, blood and body that “The Substance” offers in abundance, paired with its pulse stunning cinematography and bone crunching sound design, it is megaphone announcement by Fargeat. Her work – most notable here – is akin to Julia Ducournau (another powerful voice in body horror cinema) but louder and with more general appeal. That’s not to say that Fargeat dumbs anything down or isn’t as nuanced or visionary, just that both women seem to share similar interests in telling unique and violent stories about women using the tropes and visceral imagery of horror to do so. It dazzles with its craft and 80s/90s aesthetic. There’s a modernized glitz and glamour of the Hollywood machine that is both cherished and scolded, with Fargeat going for the jugular with every swing of her knife as she carves out her vision.
“The Substance” will make you squirm and squeal as it pummels forward with white knuckle thrills and a final act that is beyond comprehension until you witness it for yourself. It is one of the best films of year and in a perfect world that recognized horror as an awards contender, I can think of multiple nominations “The Substance” is deserving of; including but not limited to best actress, best director, best screenplay, best sound design, best cinematography, best costumes best hair and makeup, best score – to name a few.
Yes, it IS that good, and will leave you floored by what you’ve witnessed but coming for more to discover what’s underneath.
And for all its blood and guts, Dennis Quaid eating shrimp might be the most disgusting thing you’ll see all year.
“The Substance” hits theaters September 20th. You can watch the trailer below:
