Socially conscious horror isn’t as easy as it looks.
If the message is strong, the genre elements take a back seat to The Narrative. It’s better to soft pedal said Message and let audiences tease out the bigger meaning.
“The Substance” wants it both ways.
The shocker’s withering take on Hollywood ageism is both gleeful and on-the-nose. It’s also tough on older starlets who game the system until Father Time taps on their shoulders.
What director Coralie Fargeat does is push the horror elements to, well, infinity and beyond. It’s like Art the Clown of “Terrifier” fame told the most outlandish body horror tale … ever.
And he got his wish.
That will alienate plenty of audience members. And, sadly, the film’s hunger for shock may chase hardcore horror fans away, too.
Aging starlet Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore, like you’ve never seen her before. Truly) is past her prime by Hollywood standards. She makes a living via fitness videos (the film is set in modern times but boasts anachronistic touches a la this “Sweatin’ to the Oldies” subplot).
She longs for her glory days, captured by her Hollywood Walk of Fame Star suffering the indignities of neglect.
Dennis Quaid plays her unctuous boss, Harvey (gee, where did they get THAT name from). He’s desperate to shove her into a retirement home. Or, at the very least, away from any movie camera in his arsenal.
Elisabeth hears about a mysterious treatment promising to make her young again. She can’t resist, no matter how secretive the product might be.
It’s … The Substance, and through a fascinating process it lets her reclaim her youth. There’s a catch, of course. Several, really. It hardly seems worth it, but we’re not aging actresses watching our careers wither away.
The process involves a separate entity, played by an equally game Margaret Qualley, who shares time with Elisabeth. It’s complicated and spellbinding.
So is “The Substance,” at least for a while.
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The film’s messages couldn’t be more blunt, but they’re delivered with a stunning array of cinematic tools. The look. The sound. The performances. It’s all bracingly original and captivating, capturing unfair beauty standards in Hollywood.
And elsewhere, of course.
Except the story has little else to say mid-film. So we veer into body horror, a sub-genre getting a lot of attention these days. (If you haven’t seen “Men,” you should).
And by “veer” we mean, dive head first in and swim around for what seems like hours. The film’s third act is a test to see how much finely crafted gore one can stomach. It’s excessive, distracting and unnecessary, and this is coming from a fan of extreme horror fare.
Moore is excellent throughout, never letting us lose sight of Elisabeth’s flickering humanity. Qualley has a less meaty role, but she throws herself into the task with a physicality the tale demands.
Fargeat’s knack for leaving an impression is undeniable. You won’t look at an older actress the same way again. Had she written a finale that pushed the film’s themes in an audacious direction she might have made a body horror classic.
As is, it’s as thought-provoking as it is a test of endurance.
HiT or Miss: Bold, audacious and ultimately revolting, “The Substance” can’t let a good enough social horror movie alone.
A modern take of “Death Becomes Her”? They always go for gore in the end.
Interesting premise. I’ll have to check it out.