In ‘The Substance,’ beauty is in the eye(s) of the beholder(s)

Satirical horror is back in a big way with “The Substance”

Those lamenting the death of cinema need only know where to look for its rebirth. In the 1960s, when Hollywood lost touch with the tastes of a changing audience, filmgoers searching for the daring, the new, and the fresh turned their eyes to international cinema. Perhaps that is the starting place to breathe fresh air into the cinematic lungs of a gasping industry trying to find itself in this post-pandemic streaming era. 

In recent years, South Korean auteurs Bong Joon Ho and Park Chan-wook have dazzled American audiences with their films “Parasite” and “Decision to Leave.” Last year’s award-winning “Anatomy of a Fall” from French director Justine Triet added to the recent crop of exciting European films from Norway’s Kristoffer Borgli and France’s Julia Ducournau and Céline Sciamma. The latest find from France is director Coralie Fargeat. Fargeat’s first feature, 2018’s “The Revenge,” got the conversation going with its unique spin on the revenge genre. But even the fans of that film, and “The Revenge” does have a devoted fan base, couldn’t possibly have seen Fargeat’s follow-up, “The Substance,” coming.

“The Substance” debuted at Cannes this past spring, where it caused a sensation and won Best Screenplay. It’s an English-language film starring Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley, with a supporting performance by Dennis Quaid. This independent film didn’t score much of a release when it came to theaters several weeks ago. The film is now available to stream on-demand, and when it hits one of the mainstream streamers, I’m sure people will be talking more and more about this movie. I just caught up with the film, and the experience left me wishing I could have seen this one in a packed theater.

In the 1980s, a film like “The Substance” would have been the precise horror-laced hidden gem that I would have raved about to anyone who would listen. It’s got the perverse body horror and sly dark humor of a David Cronenberg film. It pays homage to Stanley Kubrick’s “The Shining” in several set-piece references and audio cues. Look carefully enough, and you’ll detect nods to “A Clockwork Orange” and the ending of “2001.” A layered examination of the intricate shot designs in Fargeat’s direction will see some sneaky shot-by-shot references to Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho.” And when “The Substance” reaches its bonkers, dialed up to 11 final minutes, horror film connoisseurs might find a twisted kinship of a little-known cult classic called “Society.” But to pull off such odes to horror movies past, it takes a director in command of their vision, and Fargeat never lets you forget she’s in the driver’s seat and what an expert driver she is.

The story comes wrapped as an alternate reality version of Hollywood, a fairy tale fable, or cautionary tale, about the dangers of trying to get the impossible through a “too good to be true” device. In this case, the device is a mysterious substance that offers what every aging actor in Hollywood wants: a new lease on life, i.e., a younger body—or a younger face. Demi Moore plays the one-time, super famous Elisabeth Sparkle, whose luster is now as dull and worn as the Hollywood Walk of Fame star that bears her name. She hosts a popular exercise show, and with her 50th birthday upon her, Sparkle’s career candle is about to get snuffed out at the hands of her misogynistic studio head, Harvey, played by Dennis Quaid. He’s as cartoon and paper-thin as they come. Fargeat makes it clear from Quaid’s over-the-top performance and wide (almost fish-eye) angled close-ups of him scarfing down crawfish during a meal this movie is a satire of the industry, albeit one where the truth in the fiction bares so much truth that it probably wouldn’t feel like a satire to specific audiences.

Out of a job with no friends, no prospects, and seeing no future, or indeed nothing like the fame she worked so hard to perpetuate for the past 20-30 years, Moore’s Sparkle finds herself desperate enough to roll the dice on the mysterious, black-market wonder-drug called, “The Substance.” She places an order and heads to the shady part of town, where she picks up her supply in an assigned locker.

The instructions are straightforward but direct. Taking this drug will create a manifestation, a younger self that will allow a part of the person to live out their best life for seven days. After seven days, the bodies must switch places. And while there are two different bodies, they are part of the same self. “You are one,” Moore is told by an unseen voice over the phone. She is not supposed to forget that.

The manifestation scene, where a second self regenerates from Moore’s body, is one for the books and will either excite or repulse a viewer, depending on one’s tolerance for body horror.

Soon, Moore’s second half, Margaret Qualley’s Sue, is living the life Moore no longer had, including her old exercise host job. And it isn’t long before the younger self begins to crave something too—more time. Seven days is not enough when life is going great. And that is the point at which Moore’s Faustian bargain begins to have consequences.

Sue begins to borrow time away from Moore’s body (which is in a comatose state during the off week), and taking from Peter to pay Paul exerts damage to Moore’s version. Like any fantastic fable, the journey for the hero is about the cost of getting what you want through magical means. How many consequences are too much? When is enough enough? Throughout the film, Demi Moore transforms from someone far from old but ancient in Hollywood’s standards to something obscene, worn, broken down, and consumed by her younger creation. At some point, Moore could stop the process. Ultimately, she is the primary host and holds a power the younger Sue does not. But with a lure so strong as fame and adulation, can Moore pull the trigger?

The film posits a perplexing philosophical dilemma, and such complexities baked into a darkly comic horror soup is not something most films of this genre dare to do, yet that is the essence of what makes “The Substance” so great. 

At this late stage in the film’s narrative, we see where this film is going and what the logical conclusion of the movie will be or should be. Even if we haven’t seen this exact package before, we can surmise where the plot will take us in the third act. But no. That’s where Fargeat’s “The Substance” makes its boldest stand; she risks and gives us an unforgettable conclusion. It’s sheer gonzo greatness, a gross-out, body horror extravaganza that will appall many and have plenty of viewers looking between  their fingers if they can dare look at all. I’ll admit I loved every second of the film’s conclusion, and it left me smiling.

I came for “The Substance,” but I walked away with something far more substantial. I wasn’t expecting that out of a horror movie, a film this confidently made, with such stellar performances, outstanding cinematography, set design, costumes, and directing so exciting it leaves me eager to see what director Coralie Fargeat will offer next. One thing’s for sure: whatever that movie is, I’ll be seeing it in the theater.

“The Substance” is in theaters and available to stream “on-demand.”

James Kent is the publisher’s assistant at the Mountain Times and the co-host of the “Stuff We’ve Seen” podcast at stuffweveseen.com. Got a film or show that you’d like James to review? Write to him at editor@mountain-time.info.