“The Substance” (2024)

The Substance

Grade: A-

Director Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance dispenses with all subtlety in an ugly, on-the-nose, highly effective, body horror thriller that is extremely uncomfortable in all the right ways, bolstered by actress Demi Moore’s best work.

Directing:

Paying direct homage to Stanley Kubrick (The Shining, 2001: A Space Odyssey), David Lynch (Mulholland Drive, Lost Highway) and David Cronenberg (The Fly, Videodrome), Fargeat creates a cold, minimal, garish, pornographic mise en scène that builds horror and anxiety through intense close-ups, repetitious movement and extremely graphic practical effects — the arrival of a bold feminist visionary who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty.

Acting:

This is probably Demi Moore’s greatest role, a metanarrative about an aging movie star and the suicidal sci-fi risks she’ll take to be young and beautiful again (i.e., become Margaret Qualley on a biweekly basis); fearlessly depicting — with the help of some Cronenbergian costuming — Hollywood self-obsession and self-hatred at its most monstrous and harrowing, bearing it all in a career best performance.

Writing:

The Substance is easy to follow and pulls no punches, an intentionally unambiguous metaphor for toxic misogynist Hollywood culture, with Fargeat far more interested in symbolic visuals rather than dialogue-driven plotting, a storytelling style that works in The Substance’s grotesque favor.

Music:

Just like the visuals, Fargeat pays homage to her cinematic heroes in the soundtrack too, ironically repurposing Richard Strauss’ Also Sprach Zarathustra and Bernard Herrmann’s “Scene d’Amour” (from Kubrick’s 2001 and Hitchcock’s Vertigo respectively) during key transformative sequences, nicely countered by occasional electronics and industrial drones throughout the rest of this curiously quiet film.

Ending (SPOILERS):

Sure, the grand finale is too long and overstated, with the body horror becoming so intentionally ridiculous that it turns into a gross-out comedy, but Fargeat achieves the desired effect: all women are forgotten, no matter how beautiful or ugly, akin to a bloody pulp swept away from the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

To arrive at that ending, however, the film seems to betray its own internal logic, sacrificing poignancy in the process. By opting for postmodern tonal whiplash where nothing is taken seriously — metaphor over meaning — The Substance loses all emotion. Even The Fly earned our sympathy.

“Too bad her boobs aren’t in the middle of her face instead of that nose.” — Casting Director

Why The Substance gets an A-

Stylish provocative horror anti-comedy, a tier above the likes of Aronofsky’s Mother (2017), Aster’s Beau Is Afraid (2023)and Lanthimos’ The Lobster (2015).

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