The Substance Review: A Bloody, Brilliant, Bonkers Body Horror Movie

Who needs subtly when you've got "The Substance," Coralie Fargeat's delightfully bonkers body horror masterpiece? To quote "Garth Marenghi's Darkplace," "I know writers who use subtext and they're all cowards, every one of them." With "The Substance," Fargeat, who helmed the excellent, brutal, bubble-gum-colored thrillride that was "Revenge," has crafted a overstuffed, bonkers, blood-soaked saga about women and the hell they're put through all in the name of modern beauty standards. Fargeat's script is about as unsubtle as they come — every scene is loaded with unmistakable, obvious, impossible-to-miss meaning. And yet, this isn't a hindrance to the film. If anything, it just makes the movie all the more endearing. It's equal parts horrific and hilarious. 

Demi Moore turns in a fearless performance as Elisabeth Sparkle, an Oscar-winner turned TV fitness star. I'm not an awards prognosticator, but I would love it if Moore scooped up some awards season love for this, both because she deserves it and because it would be utterly delightful to have a movie as twisted as "The Substance" enter the awards conversation. Moore, who is 61 playing a 50-year-old, is clearly still stunning, beautiful, a knock-out — and yet, by the standards of the entertainment industry, Elisabeth is seen as faded, haggard, washed-up. Her glory days are long gone — a fact that's underscored by repulsive TV exec Harvey, played by Dennis Quaid slurping up shrimp heads and really going for it with a ghastly performance. 

On the day Elisabeth turns 50, Harvey takes her to lunch and promptly fires her from the TV workout show she hosts. All of this unfolds at a breakneck pace, heightened by eye-catching production design and photography. Cinematographer Benjamin Kracun frequently employs long, wide shots and fish-eyed lenses to warp the frame and keep everything dreamily off-kilter. It creates a heightened world that seems both real and fantastical, and perfectly compliments the gonzo tone Fargeat is conjuring up. 

Elisabeth's career is over — but in some ways, it's also just beginning. Because she's just been clued into something called The Substance, an injectable drug that will literally create a younger, better version of you. It's David Cronenberg meets Ozempic, a body-horror-tinged solution to beauty standard problems. The Substance comes with a set of rules that must be followed to the letter — a fact that's underscored so heavily that you immediately know that at some point, those rules are going to be broken and lead to absolute disaster. After injecting herself with a glowing green liquid that looks like it was borrowed from the set of "Re-Animator," Elisabeth spawns a younger, beautiful woman who names herself Sue, played by a wide-eyed Margaret Qualley. 

The rules of The Substance dictate that the two bodies have to take turns existing from week to week — Sue gets to enjoy life one week, Elisabeth the week after, and so on. The implication here is that both these bodies share a consciousness ... or do they? Fargeat's script, and the way Moore and Qualley deliver their performances, sometimes suggests otherwise — Elisabeth does things that Sue has no seemingly memory of, and vice versa. It raises all sorts of questions, like: what's the point of inhabiting a new, younger body if you can't really remember everything you did? And why switch back to your old body at all? 

Sue is quickly hired as Elisabeth's replacement and becomes a sexy superstar, with the TV camera deliberately lingering over every inch of her body while men oogle her at every turn. Sue is living the superficial good life, growing rich and famous and most of all, desired. Wanted. Lusted after. Elisabeth, in turn, retreats to a near non-existence — when it's her week to be in the world, she mostly sits in her apartment, watching TV and eating. A rift begins to form: Sue doesn't want to share her time. But isn't Sue just Elisabeth? Isn't Elisabeth just Sue? Yes, and no. These sorts of distinctions are deliberately murky to enable an all-out war between these very different women, one that builds towards a grand (guignol) finale. 

The tone of "The Substance" is consistently comical in a macabre sort of way, but there are telling moments of emotional brutality that pack a punch. Even with all the gruesome body horror and buckets of blood that eventually follow, one of the most memorable moments in the movie is deceptively simple. After agreeing to go on a date with a high school classmate, Elisabeth dresses herself up and applies her makeup. She looks great. And yet, when she spots a billboard featuring the younger, hotter Sue, she's suddenly seized with self-doubt. She rubs her makeup off. She covers herself up. She sits on the bed, silent. The clock ticks on. She looks at herself in the mirror and sees nothing but flaws. It's a moment most people, especially those who lack a certain self-confidence, will be able to relate to: the feeling of hopeless rage that arises when you simply can't look the way you want to look in your mind. 

Throughout the film, Fargeat sprinkles in grotesque little moments that may or may not be really happening, although eventually there can be no denying the horrors on display. Without giving away any spoilers, I'll just say the last act of the film soon becomes unapologetically gruesome in ways that will repulse some while enthralling others. One thing cannot be denied: Fargeat is a bold filmmaker willing to take the biggest possible swings, with unforgettable results. There's an audacity to "The Substance" that's downright infectious — you cannot help but embrace a film willing to go to these extremes. 

"The Substance" has an impossible-to-miss message about the struggles of women, especially women on constant display in an industry that thrives on rigid beauty standards. But it's also a delightfully farcical romp; an exhilarating, shocking freak show with an absurdist heart. It's the type of movie you won't forget.

/Film Rating: 9 out of 10

"The Substance" opens in theaters on September 20, 2024.