04 Sep REVIEW – ‘The Substance’ is a sickening, subversive, sharp, and satirical rollercoaster
After more than three decades of watching countless films every year, it takes quite a lot to shock and surprise this film critic. Then again, it’s not every day something comes along like The Substance; Coralie Fargeat’s disgustingly twisted, pointedly satirical, sickly comedic, and staggeringly entertaining body-horror that will either leave you fleeing for the exit or applauding with sheer joy. I was in the latter category.
A biting indictment of Hollywood’s obsession with youth and the way it discards women of a certain age, Fargeat clearly has a point to prove. And she’s making it in the nastiest way possible. Led by an utterly fearless performance from Demi Moore, it’s an unforgettable roller coaster that will genuinely leave you breathless.
Moore plays Elizabeth Sparkle, a one-time Oscar-winning actor from the 80s who now stars in her own cheesy aerobics TV show called Sparkle Your Life. While Elizabeth desperately clings to her last shred of fame, her slimy boss Harvey (Dennis Quaid) is secretly on the hunt for a younger, sexier replacement.
When Elizabeth inadvertently overhears Harvey’s plans, she staggers out of the studio and winds up involved in a minor car accident on her way home. While being checked over by a doctor, a mysterious nurse drops a USB stick in her pocket with a cryptic note stating, “It changed my life.”
The “it” refers to something known as “The Substance,” a mysterious green fluid that offers to create a “new you” by cloning a younger version of yourself. The wonder drug comes with a set of strict rules that must be followed at all times, most importantly you must share your time with your clone. One week for you, one week for them. No exceptions…or else.
After injecting herself with the serum, Elizabeth gives birth to Sue (Margaret Qualley), a wholesome yet ambitious young woman who dutifully follows all the instructions. Well, at least initially she does. As Sue’s fame rises, she grows reluctant to abide by the rule of merely experiencing 7 days of existence at a time. The two women soon become embroiled in a battle of control that will have dire consequences for them both.
What follows from here is naturally best left unspoiled. Suffice to say, the punishment for breaking the rules results in some of the most demented, grotesque imagery you will see all year, especially in the film’s utterly f*cking insane third act. My jaw was on the floor. Some people were laughing. Many were clapping. Others were quite literally running from the cinema. I’ve never experienced anything like it.
Fargeat crafts some of the most horrifyingly unique gore you’ll ever see. You won’t be able to shake it. Even more impressive is her rare commitment to physical effects with some of the year’s finest make-up and prosthetics work that demands to be rewarded with an Oscar nomination. It’s unlikely to happen, but a boy can dream.
Unlike so many disappointing horror films of recent times, Fargeat is showing very little restraint. How refreshing to find someone willing to just go for it. The visuals are one thing, but the sound design is just as horrifying, especially in the nauseating medical scenes but also something as innocuous as Harvey gluttonously devouring a bowl of seafood. She’s so clinical in her approach to everything and the end results is wonderfully disturbing.
But for all its successes with its body-horror and black comedy elements, it’s what’s bubbling beneath the surface that really impresses here. Fargeat is weaving a compelling and rather bleak portrait of the self-hatred and internalised misogyny aging women so often battle against, especially those in the entertainment industry.
Even though she is essentially a creature of Elizabeth’s own making, Sue begins to resent and loath her younger avatar. She is the very manifestation of everything the fading star is not. Even so, she cannot bring herself to stop the experiment as if she’s addicted to the male gaze Sue elicits. It’s a fascinating contradiction and an astute insight into the self-destruction of a woman cruelly pushed to the edge by a world that’s now overlooking her.
Given Moore hasn’t been on screen all that much in recent years, there’s no irony lost in her casting as an actress whose time in the spotlight is rapidly fading. As a sex symbol of the 80s and 90s herself, she slips into this role like a glove. It’s an opportunity Moore doesn’t let slip by as she ferociously delivers career-best work that might well be amongst the chatter come awards season.
Frankly, Moore deserves some sort of nomination recognition purely for her commitment to the physically demanding elements this role requires. It’s a deeply vulnerable and unshakeably sorrowful performance where Moore is clearly tapping into her many years of experience in the industry. She innately understands every emotion Elizabeth is feeling and she’s funnelling it all every scene.
Qualley is equally impressive as the wide-eyed, seductive bombshell whose youthful energy and endless ambition cast her as the kind of ruthless fame addict synonymous with 21st-century culture. Much like every other performance, you cannot take your eyes off her and you never quite know what she’s going to do next. In a film filled with scenery-chewing performances, a deliciously cartoonish Quaid chomps down extra hard as the slimeball producer (and appropriately named) Harvey.
Like a perverse interpretation of The Nutty Professor with a dash of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? and a good dollop of The Fly, this is one of the most undeniably inimitable films of the year and one of the greatest examples of the body-horror genre of all time. It’s shocking. It’s sickening. It’s sexy. It’s satisfying. It’s satirical. It’s sharp. It’s salacious. It’s subversive. It’s sublime. It’s The Substance and it’s one of the absolute best times you could have inside a cinema in 2024.
Distributor: Madman
Cast: Demi Moore, Dennis Quaid, Margaret Qualley
Director: Coralie Fargeat
Producers: Tim Bevan, Coralie Fargeat, Eric Fellner
Screenplay: Coralie Fargeat
Cinematography: Benjamin Kracun
Production Design: Stanislas Reydellet
Costume Design: Emmanuelle Youchnovski
Editors: Jerome Eltabet, Coralie Fargeat, Valentin Féron
Music: Raffertie
Running Time: 140 minutes
Release Date: 19th September 2024 (Australia)