The Substance

For a film that’s laser-focused on the human body, it’s gloriously on point that THE SUBSTANCE begins with a freshly cracked, bright yellow egg yolk. Eggs are the ‘giver of life’, right? They’re the origin of all of us. Gleaming and plump, the yolk suddenly gets pricked – not by a fork, but a syringe. That’s the first juicy visual metaphor of many in this meaningfully bonkers body horror, for which French filmmaker Coralie Fargeat picked up the prestigious Best Screenplay prize at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. To call the film ‘bold’ is a weapons-grade understatement. It’s an audacious, jaw-dropping examination of what screens & billboards demand of women (especially as they age), and how laughably impossible it is to meet those demands. Well, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry. After watching THE SUBSTANCE, you might do both. Here's our deep dive for good.film: https://good.film/guide/holy-sh-t-the-substance-is-a-weapons-grade-takedown-of-the-male-gaze

Demi Moore's performance in The Substance is so potent that it's hard to tell what's more intoxicating; her inevitable Best Actress win or Coralie Fargeat's razor-sharp screenplay that's already got the Oscar in the bag.

There’s a big difference between being funny and being laughable, yet the latest from writer-director Coralie Fargeat has somehow found a way to be both. After amassing a considerable amount of largely well-earned cinematic goodwill in the film’s opening segments, the picture mercilessly squanders that support in the final act with an overlong, meandering, disgustingly gratuitous and grotesque exhibition of utterly bad taste. This story of an aging actress (Demi Moore) who seeks to revive her career by retrieving some of her lost youth with the aid of an enigmatic injectable follows her grand misadventures when the mysterious substance prompts the emergence of a younger doppelganger (Margaret Qualley), who becomes a Hollywood sex kitten sensation virtually overnight. To make this experimental venture work, however, the two individuals must follow a complex set of rules, dictates that become increasingly difficult to follow as they each vie for their respective shares of attention. And, as this scenario unfolds, tension grows between them, leading to complications and unexpected developments that become progressively harder to manage. But that’s where what works in the film ends. As the story plays out from there, it becomes stupendously absurd, and, even though there are some hearty laughs in this, there are even more ridiculously implausible and unexplained occurrences that try audience members’ patience and tolerance, so much so that I couldn’t wait for this trainwreck to end. In addition to the foregoing shortcomings, the film includes myriad changes in tone, making it difficult to determine whether this is supposed to be a serious thriller or a campy road, very much in the same way as in the incomprehensible French offering “Titane” (2021). It also shamelessly “borrows” elements from other movies in various ways, most notably imagery and narrative references from “The Shining” (1980) and “Young Frankenstein” (1974), costume designs from the “Hunger Games” franchise, and bafflingly inexplicable soundtrack excerpts from films like “Vertigo” (1958). Then there’s the picture’s obvious, heavy-handed message about the perils of misogyny, observations that, as important as they are, could easily stood to have been turned down more than a few notches (yes, we get it already). At the same time, though, there are also some fundamentally innate questions about the narrative that go wholly unanswered, leaving us with numerous head-scratching moments. Sadly, these failings detract significantly from the elements that do work (at least early on in the film), such as the fine performances of Moore and Qualley, the picture’s inventive cinematography, and a central premise that could have made for an engaging story if handled with greater finesse. But these strengths are effectively cancelled by what ultimately results when this release goes off the rails. Indeed, how “The Substance” captured the 2024 Cannes Film Festival award for best screenplay is truly mind boggling. I’m certainly a fan of the weird, wild and wacky, but this release undermines the virtues of those cherished qualities. Regrettably, I was seriously looking forward to seeing this offering, and I was decidedly impressed by what I saw in its opening acts, but that was all wiped out by how this one ultimately played out, a picture that, in the end, ironically relied more on style than “substance.”

This takes a logical step on from Coralie Fargeat's earlier "Reality+" (2014) drama, only this time it takes a much more substantial swipe at all things vain. "Elisabeth" (Demi Moore) has been at the top of her fitness game for many a year when her boss "Harvey" (Dennis Quaid) decides that she's now too old and that a younger model is needed to present those programmes we all saw on the television of gorgeous, fit and healthy, people showing us how to exercise on a mat in from of our televisions each morning. Distracted by her imminent removal, she is involved in a car accident that introduces her to an handsome young nurse (Robin Grear) and then to a curious invitation to test out a mysterious fluid that can essentially give her her cake and eat it. In best "Jekyll and Hyde" tradition, injecting this quite literally creates a split personality. One is her current self, the other a perfect, younger specimen. They work in a rota system each gets a week of consciousness then has to take a week out. Thing is, the more vivacious character "Sue" (Margaret Qualley) is not so religious about sticking to these sharing rules and we quickly discover that what is "borrowed" can never been returned - with increasingly harrowing results. With the gushing "Harvey" determined to capitalise on his new ratings winner, things become decidedly irritating for the now marginalised "Elisabeth" - but shat can she do? There's no going back...! I think this is Moore at her best. Her palpable sense of evolving fury, exasperation and frustration is expertly captured as is the selfishness of her alter ego by an on form Qualley. Quaid steals his scenes as the truly odious epitome of corporate greed for whom it's all about the business, the money and never the actual people concerned. The denouement is reminiscent of something concocted by one of the David's - Lynch or Cronenberg, and allows the throbbing ghastliness of this story of vanity gone mad to demonstrate just how fickle life can be when there's little actual substance at all to their shallow and vacuous lives. A savage indictment of the short-term and unprincipled "beauty" industry that aims squarely at just about everyone and everything involved, is engagingly toxic and well worth a watch.