“The Substance”

Operating under the guise of a feminist film that has something profound to say, Coralie Fargeat’s “The Substance,” is not only lacking in all respects, but it is an absolute chore to watch. This is a film that doesn’t just push boundaries, but gleefully smashes them into pieces and smugly parades over the rubble. It’s ambitious, grotesque, and undeniably provocative, but it’s also maddeningly indulgent in a way that leads to self-sabotage.

The film tells the story of fading and aging Hollywood actress Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore), a woman who is desperate to retain her beauty and relevance. Worried about her career, she chooses to undergo a black-market procedure that clones her younger self that she calls Sue (Margaret Qualley). This clone becomes both a symbol of Sparkle’s vanity and her worst nightmare.

What follows is a grotesque, body-horror-laden exploration of beauty, youth, and the parasitic relationship between the two versions of Sparkle. The themes of aging and celebrity are nothing new, and Fargeat attempts to inject new life into this well-worn topic with an over-the-top approach that fizzles. There’s a lot of shock value, but the heavy-handed commentary on beauty standards and celebrity culture is so over-the-top that it’s punishing.

The concept of the film seems ripe for exploration, but Fargeat’s execution feels more like a blunt force trauma than an incisive commentary. The satire here is almost as hideous as the body horror. This is a world where men are uniformly depicted as vile chauvinists (led by a caricatured Dennis Quaid, whose slimeball executive feels like a one-note villain in an already overstretched allegory). While the intention is clear and correct (men — and by extension, the entertainment industry– are almost solely to blame for the unsustainable beauty standards placed on women), it quickly becomes tiresome. Every male character in the film is a walking, talking stereotype. After an hour of this, I found myself internally screaming “WE GET IT! MEN ARE PIGS!” I am by no means a male apologist, but enough is enough.

When paired with the relentless shock value, the film’s overuse of its themes eventually drowns the story’s potential. Instead of a layered exploration of self-destruction and the corrupting influence of vanity, the whole thing becomes a grotesque series of shock moments where each one is more extreme and nauseating than the last. Fargeat leans heavily into body horror and medical gore (think “The Fly” meets “Requiem for a Dream”), which becomes an exercise in sheer excess. Even worse, she tends to sexualize the female characters in a way that seems contradictory to what the film is trying to say.

On a positive note, the film is visually inventive. Fargeat’s sharp, vivid style works well here, and she certainly is not afraid to be audacious. The makeup and practical effects are terrific. The bodily mutations, spinal taps, and flesh-ripping rebirths have a nauseating allure for those who appreciate boundary-pushing body horror. It’s a shame that they become so overly indulgent.

I also wasn’t a fan of the performances, which are both something people are irritatingly going to call “brave.” This is one of those things that really needs to stop. Just because an over 50 actress decides to be nude in a film doesn’t make her “brave.” It’s just another example of ageism and the cruelty in which Hollywood views older female actors.

The characters feel underdeveloped, too. Sparkle is trapped in an endless cycle of self-loathing, while the bold and brash Sue lacks depth. Their duality is interesting up to a point, at least until their relationship becomes a never ending tug of war with no satisfying resolution.

With its bloated two hour run time, “The Substance” is a lot to stomach. There are some interesting ideas here, but Fargeat fails to dig deeper and instead opts to wallow in gross, bloody, shock imagery. The messaging is far from subtle, and its relentless excess left me emotionally drained.

By: Louisa Moore