Directed By Coralie Fargeat

Starring – Demi Moore, Margaret Qualley, Dennis Quaid

The Plot – A fading celebrity named Elisabeth Sparkles (Moore) decides to use a black-market drug, a cell-replicating substance that temporarily creates a younger (Qualley), better version of herself.

Rated R for strong bloody violent content, gore, graphic nudity and adult language.

THE SUBSTANCE | Official Trailer | In Theaters September 20 (youtube.com)

POSITIVES

In many ways, this film feels like the spiritual successor to 2016’s ‘The Neon Demon’, in that it uncovers the dark and seedy side of Hollywood and fame, as well as the terrifying obsession that makes people endlessly pursue it. The primary difference, however, is that as to where that film expressed its provocative meaning with subtext in symbolism, this film lacks any semblance of subtleties in the depths of its exploration, opting instead for the heavy handed go-for-the-throat kind of execution that unabashedly has no reservations about letting its points be known. This affords the film the freedom to get as provocative as the mind can capably conjure, with truly unforgettable shock imagery within the confines of grotesque bodily horror that coincides brilliantly with an aging actress trying to access her youth, but beyond that an enveloping psychological captivity in the depths of Fargeat’s immaculate direction, which can earnestly be described as fearlessly ferocious. After the tremendous success of her debut directorial effort in 2017’s ‘Revenge’, Fargeat proves she’s anything but a one trick pony, as her uncompromising vision to this story elicits an uncomfortably bleak and vulnerable atmospheric dread that continuously gets under your skin, with some of the most impactfully immersive technical components that feel like Darren Aronofsky and Nicholas Winding Refn got married, and Fargeat was the baby that spawned from it. Between emphasized exaggerations in the cinematography, with slight tilts and foggy outlines that put you in the psychological duress of the protagonist experiencing so more torture and uncertainty to her body, as well as the unconventional consistencies to the editing, the presentation emits such a nightmarish ambiance to the engagement that corresponds brilliantly with the dark and confining beats of the narrative, crafting an unnatural persistence to reality that blurs the lines of fantasy and reality, the longer the film persists. Like ‘Revenge’, Fargeat uses buckets of blood and stomach-churning practicality in effects work to vividly bring this nightmare to life, placing comfortably between gruesome and gnarly in ways that earned my single biggest praise from the entire experience. Because the elasticity of the design conjures an impeccable tangibility that audiences can coherently interpret and even feel when it bends, it gives these designs such a lived-in brand of detectable anatomy that somehow still persists, despite looking unlike anything of this world that we’ve ever seen, and though so much praise goes to the immensity and durability of such a concept, with corresponding sound mixing conveying the bodily struggle, the attention to genetic detail is what truly dazzles, enacting a helpless vulnerability to this unforeseen side effect that never obscures the essence of humanity from those who are caught within its terrifying confines. This leads to the storytelling, which is surprisingly simplistic for what it reaches for thematically, affording audiences the accessibility of capably interpreting just what is taking shape, without too much heavy-handed exposition to smother the sentiment. In fact, for much of the opening act, the dialogue and characters are surprisingly kept to a minimum, which allows the imagery to capably tell the story, but beyond that contextualize Elisabeth’s loneliness and internal emptiness, which speak the loudest during isolated sequences away from watchful eyes. Then there’s the strong exclamation point of the climax, which without hyperbole might just be one of my favorite endings to a movie of all-time, with a blow-off in devastation that grows louder and bolder with each passing minute. In being an unapologetic psychological thriller about the shallow materialism of fame, it obviously doesn’t always have audience comfortability in mind, especially in getting as demented as it possibly can, but for my money the resolution to the film was every bit as satisfying in closure as it was entertaining in spectacle, unleashing decades of anguish from one particular character on an industry that created a monster, all the while eliciting every inch of that R-rating that the movie never takes for granted for a single solitary second. Lastly, the performances are quite remarkable from the central trio, with Moore even handing in what I think is her most physically demanding turn of her entire decorated career. Moore certainly captures all of the bleak and tender loneliness that comes with being a proverbial piece of chewing gum that the industry has chewed up and spit out, but her real magnitude takes shape when the drug doesn’t go exactly as planned, and she mentally and physically comes unglued at the seams, requiring Moore to dig deep into the darkness to unload some of the internal anguish and abrasiveness established from an industry that feels a bit inspirational from her own real-life experiences. As for Qualley, the cool factors in magnetism and sex appeal that she brings to the character certainly spawned from her work in last year’s ‘Sanctuary’, but here feels all the more extensive, both in the bravery of her tragic manifestation, but also the elevated anxieties of her materialistic mission, proving that regardless of the age, women work overtime to cater to an industry that only views them as one thing. But my personal favorite performance of the entire engagement is that of Dennis Quaid, who sleazily and slimily feels like unfortunate rebirth of Harvey Weinstein, with the embellishing appeal of Quaid’s demeanor constantly enhancing the audaciousness of the character. Despite playing such a minimal role to the dominance of Moore and Qualley, Quaid seamlessly matches them blow for blow in making the most of his time, and with Fargeat framing him with these closely unflattering angles that observe him eating and oogling like a pig, showcases everything wrong with studio executives that Quaid has a blast depicting.

NEGATIVES

Despite ‘The Substance’ being one of my favorite horror films of the year, it’s definitely not flawless, especially in the aforementioned simplicity of the screenplay, which meanders a bit too long during the second act when compared to the amount of story it’s trying to tell. Certain sequences involving Qualley’s arrival certainly could’ve been hemmed or trimmed to maintain the urgency and momentum in the narrative, in turn allowing the ambitiously 135 minute run time to transpire slightly smoother than such an area of the film actually did. While nothing certainly feels repetitive or unnecessary, there is some unflattering padding that alludes to a near perfect cut of this film being somewhere around the two hour mark, resulting in these pocketed instances of bloated individual sequencing that occasionally overstay their welcome. Beyond this, my only other issue with the film is a personal pet peeve of mine that drives me crazy with movies where a production has little to no faith in the audience to capably and coherently put the pieces together of previously conjured foreshadowing. In this instance, the editing frequently returns to a previous scene to elicit meaning to something that transpired in the foreground of the current scene, and while it’s nice to have an assisting hand in remembering a nearly two-and-a-half hour engagement, my focus to the storytelling never withered, so every time it flashed back to a corresponding instance, it only stalled my investment in ways that repeatedly annoyed me, all the while devaluing the level of confidence that Fargeat has a master storyteller, which is good enough on her own without meandering devices.

OVERALL
‘The Substance’ is every bit the brutally grotesque thrill ride that was advertised, but with an air of unsubtlety to its social commentary that refuses to mince words on the subjects of fame obsession and female devaluing within the industry. With ferocious performances, stimulating style, and blossoming originality, Coralie Fargeat conjures one unforgettable experience that lingers in the skin for far longer than expected, culminating in an unapologetically expressive climax deserving of the loudest and most triumphant standing applause.

My Grade: 8/10 or A-