What first drew me to Coralie Fargeat’s sophomore feature is the mythology surrounding it: gruesome tales of people passing out in the theaters, some even vomiting before they can manage to run out. While I definitely got the gore I was expecting, the film also provided a social critique around celebrity and gender that I found to be compelling. It’s centered around aging celeb Elisabeth Sparkle realizing her age is now causing her career to decline. In an attempt to stay relevant, she injects something known as The Substance into her bloodstream, hoping its claims of creating a ‘better version’ of her are true, and being absolutely horrified by the deadly consequences. Perhaps one of the strongest body horror films since 2021’s Palm D’Or-winning Titane, this surreal acid-trip nightmare is something you just have to see in theaters, with a crowd, on the biggest possible screen.
As I was leaving the theater, I heard two people behind me say ‘it had no depth,’ and that comment is partially what drove me to write this review. I think those who’ve seen the trailer and are familiar with Fargeat’s previous work won’t go into this film expecting it to be an atmospheric, nuanced approach to the genre. Instead, this is a cross between the grindhouse catharsis of I Spit on Your Grave (1978) and the more personal themes of Videodrome (1983). Even at the press conference following the film’s Cannes premier, Fargeat said her favorite thing about genre films is that you have the ability to go over the top, even citing Paul Verhoeven as one of her prime influences, and that definitely comes through onscreen. Nothing about this film holds back, nor do I think it should. This feels like a primal, furious scream, demanding both a more logical societal conceptualization around beauty, age and the body, but also for women as a social group to be more self-accepting regarding the inevitable changes that come with time’s passing. I think these types of grimier films are necessary for a healthy cinematic ecosystem, but also so that groups who otherwise wouldn’t have this outlet can have a place to be angry and mourn in community. To expect a film to be something it isn’t, or to expect every film to be one particular thing, is to fail at appreciating the variety that makes the medium so rich. It also prevents you from valuing what is working here, which would be a shame, because so much is working!
A lot of people will speak about Demi Moore’s performance, and I think they’re right to do so. From shy to furious to morose, her emotional range is fully embodied. She brings a commitment to the role that almost feels dangerous, throwing herself into such vulnerable scenes with reckless abandon that viewers can’t help but get swept up in the melee. What makes it such a compelling performance is how, even with such a frenetic energy, she was able to craft a kind of tenderness to her character that really made audiences sympathize and see the tender heart of this story. On the opposite side of the spectrum, Dennis Quaid gives a delightfully hammy performance as a sexist studio exec, also flinging himself into the role and never letting the energy dip below an eleven. Between these two actors alone there’s enough to write about, not to mention the fantastic supporting cast that elevated the whole experience to new extremes, and the cinematography that captures it all with a strong sense of purpose.
From the lens choices to the squishing, crunching and squelching of the sound design, so many aspects of this film do a great job at making you cringe in disgust. I think this is why the music choices annoyed me so much. So much care was placed into every other aspect that we didn’t need the sudden loud noises or the blaring dissonant music to establish tone; it felt heavy handed and somewhat cheapened everything else. I wish Fargeat trusted the work she did a bit more, because then she’d have seen that all these musical choices were harming, not helping. Regardless, this is a helluva watch. Even something as mundane as Quaid’s character demolishing a bowl of shrimp devolves into stomach-turning surreality thanks to the angle and lens choice. There are also the special effects, many of which are practical, all of which had the entire theater gasping and groaning, desperate to look away. I think these moments are integral to the movie, because they’re the raw manifestations of that which we seek to ignore: how women are treated as they get older, how celebrity is a kind of prison, how all the wealth and influence in the world can’t keep away the loneliness that comes from living in modern society. It’s a movie that dares you to keep looking, to ultimately confront yourself and the society you live in. That’s why it’s so important. The Substance is now in theaters, and you should definitely watch it—but don’t eat before doing so!
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