The Substance (2024)

Score: 5 / 5

Coralie Fargeat returns to the director's seat with another sumptuously realized vision of feminist horror in The Substance. After Revenge (2017) put her in the spotlight with its genre-bending, pulse-pounding thrills and clever spin on the rape-revenge exploitation flick, we were all itching to see what she'd next craft. No one expected this behemoth of a body horror machine, nor a satirical, incisive assault on internalized ageism and sexism in the entertainment industry. This is very much a Major Issues film, no doubt why it has been so lauded by the season's award shows, but it's also the kind of horror film that doesn't usually get such formal recognition.

Fargeat's screenplay and direction are brave and brazen, spinning a yarn of an aging actress trying to stay afloat by leading video exercise classes on daytime television. Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore), still gorgeous, seems to be just getting by. Her monstrous boss, a studio executive pointedly named Harvey (Dennis Quaid), cancels her show to find a younger, hotter girl who might boost ratings. Devastated and distracted, Elisabeth survives a violent car wreck; in her despair, she learns of a mysterious product that might help her. It's called The Substance, and it will supposedly rejuvenate her body so that she can continue working in the industry. It rings familiar in our Ozempic era of easy solutions and fast results; the product is shrouded in secrecy and its customer service could be viewed as either the shadiest low-budget street deal imaginable or the sleekest of high-tech alchemy hidden in plain sight. However you view it, you just know it's bad news.

Mythic stories like this rarely traffic in good news, indeed, but Elizabeth's single-minded determination to stay relevant in her youth-obsessed industry pulls her past the ideological red flags posed by The Substance. Like a child in a Grimm fairytale, she claims her first package and immediately dives into the process. By this point in the film, I was riveted. Fargeat presents us with stylized pseudo-reality like we rarely see anymore. Workplace fisheye lenses make us feel observed and paranoid, like Elisabeth, and present Harvey as a grotesque creature, physically repugnant in his bodily functions and avaricious materialism. Her apartment is sparse and spacious, modern but also somewhat liminal, especially her enormous bathroom entirely in white tile, a sort of reverse "sunken place" that feels more clinical and sanitary than any hospital. But there won't be medicine happening in this one. Expressive cinematography, inspired costuming, and compellingly overbearing music (mostly synth) make this film feel more inspired by the giallo tradition than by any contemporary styles.

Leaving the rest of the plot for you to discover on your own, I'll quickly run through my remaining notes. Much like in her first film, Fargeat here takes a perverse pleasure in toying with our expectations; between her many references to other genre staples, she ekes out a familiar story in novel ways. Unlike many horror films, The Substance doesn't encourage ways to outsmart or outmaneuver its central rules; once you activate and start the switch, you're locked in for the week. You can apparently stop at any time (unlike The Ring, which seems an intentional reference), but of course you won't want to once you taste the fountain of youth. Destroying her creation -- a double named Sue (Margaret Qualley) -- isn't really an option for her, so like her literary counterparts Dr. Jekyll, Victor Frankenstein, and Dorian Gray, Elisabeth is tortured by the monster she's created. But is Sue the monster? Fargeat demonstrates that it's not so simple. And visually, she's pulling as much from David Cronenberg (The Brood, The Fly) and Brian De Palma (Carrie) as she is from Re-Animator, Alfred Hitchcock, and '80s workout videos. The film even uses Bernard Herrmann's theme music from Vertigo, which should tell you all you need to know.

Though awards season is over, I'm finally getting through my 2024 watchlist and reviews, and frankly Moore should have won the Oscar for this performance. Not "in honor" of her career, as many have said, but simply for the brutality of her creation in Elisabeth. She's doing physical acting we've never seen from her, to say nothing of the emotional odyssey she mostly nonverbally embarks upon. By the climax, she's doing this Glenn Close-esque chameleonic thing as makeup and prosthetics take over, and I was so riveted that the humor was almost lost on me. Qualley is admirable here, and does exceptional work, but this is Moore's movie through and through, and her unbridled, raw embodiment of Elisabeth is one for the ages. The centerpiece of the film is a protracted scene in which Elisabeth, tired of the chaos and hoping to reclaim her natural, aging identity, primps herself for a date night. I won't say more, but if you know, you know. It might be the best filmed sequence of any film all year.

Without spoiling anything, there are boons for repeat viewings of this film. Quaid's performance is his best in many long years. Thematically, the film grapples with more than any one scene can handle. Visually, it beats you into submission and then pours acid on your wounds. Fargeat seems determined to gross us out, and the John Waters effect is palpable; by the denouement, we finally recognize that camp was her endgame, and it's as emotionally violent as it is absurdly irreverent. Whether you've put it off or even seen it once, it might be time to dim the lights and hit "play." No matter how ready you think you are for it, you're not.