The Substance

Director: Coralie Fargeat
Starring: Demi Moore, Margaret Qualley, Dennis Quaid, Edward Hamilton Clark, Gore Abrams, Oscar Lesage, Christian Erickson, Robin Greer, Hugo Diego Garcia
Running Time: 141 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

Gripping, disgusting and hilarious, French filmmaker Coralie Fargeat's wicked horror satire The Substance is a cautionary tale the great Rod Serling probably would have appreciated. And that's obvious from the very first scene, which shows a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame gradually deteriorating over the decades. If receiving one can be a source of pride and validation in an industry where respect is scarce, it's also fleeting. Especially for entertainers encouraged to measure their self-worth with superficial accolades.

Recognition may be nice, but what happens when you're kicked to the curb for a younger model? That's the question the film's aging actress faces and her male colleagues rarely need to consider, at least to this extent. While plastic surgery, collagen injections and various pills provide viable options for women to turn back the clock and enhance their appearance, it's tougher finding a sufficient explanation as to why that's now a prerequisite. 

In providing users an unusual black market drug, this mysterious company at the film's center seems to have it all down to a science. Our protagonist takes the bait because she's desperate, but the underlying implication is that many others already gave in and will continue to. And like most medical breakthroughs, there are few safe guards against misuse or addiction, a detail that serves as a compelling launch pad for the craziness that'll unfold.

When fading movie star Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) turns 50, she's fired from her Jane Fonda inspired TV aerobics show by the network's greedy, boisterous producer Harvey (Dennis Quaid), who's looking for a younger replacement. But when Elisabeth's admitted to the hospital after a car accident, she's given a flash drive by a nurse that advertises a cell-replicating serum called "The Substance," which promises a "younger, more beautiful, more perfect" version of herself. After picking up the supply, Elisabeth injects the "single-use activator," causing her body to generate Sue (Margaret Qualley), who emerges from a slit in her back. 

Every seven days the two must switch consciousness, with the inactive, unconscious body being fed intravenously. But when the wild, hard partying Sue becomes an overnight sensation as Elisabeth's replacement on the show, the latter falls into deep despair, unable to face the world as an older woman. Breaking protocol to extend her time and permanently bench Elisabeth, Sue's selfishness causes catastrophic side effects as the two consciousnesses head for a collision course, ignoring the fact they'll need each other to survive. 

Fountain of youth concepts aren't new to film, but the originality behind this particular process and its ramifications definitely are. Early on, the plot recalls elements of 1966's Seconds, in which a middle-aged banker utilizes the services of a clandestine agency to surgically transforms himself into a younger man played by Rock Hudson. Here, Fargeat takes that general idea to a different place by focusing on an actress whose age and appearance has always been her calling card. 

To say Elisabeth's insecurities apply strictly to this profession ignores how this premise casts a much wider net, independent of social status or wealth. Because she's an Oscar winner and fitness guru who isn't financially hurting, it's a credit to the script and Moore's performance that we don't roll our eyes at her unhappiness or dismiss the plot as a rich woman's Hollywood problem. The handwriting's on the wall as she's cruelly and casually cast aside, making it easy to see how she'd be drawn to "The Substance," which promises to rescue this increasingly invisible woman from certain obscurity. 

Retrieving her starter package from this sterile white medical storage facility in a dilapidated warehouse, it's amazing just how idiot proof the kit is. With clearly marked bags notating the steps so plainly you'd believe someone could perform this procedure without detailed instructions, despite how grossly absurd it looks. But none of that accounts for how Elisabeth psychologically handles taking a backseat to her younger, more desirable counterpart as she lies unconscious on the bathroom floor for a week.

Since Elisabeth and Sue share a consciousness, it stands to reason what one does should benefit the other, curtailing any potential pitfalls. Instead, Elisabeth wakes from her slumber even more depressed and invisible, binge eating all day and night. It's Sue who basks in the adulation that comes with being the hot, young ingenue, soon growing disgusted by the mere thought of her older version even existing. So it isn't long before she violates protocol to extend her time, resulting in crippling side effects for Elisabeth. Sue doesn't get off so easily either, having to inject herself with a "stabilizer fluid" to avoid a similar physical deterioration. 

This battle for supremacy is contested entirely inside Elisabeth's mind, as strange as that seems for a story so firmly situated in the body horror genre. She's the one person who can stop this, if only the pressure to remain young and desired wasn't so great. Hating Sue out of jealousy while still desperately needing her counterpart to maintain any semblance of self esteem, she becomes trapped in a prison of her own making.

With a willingness to spoof her public image while inhabiting the headspace of a character defined as old and washed up, a never more vulnerable Moore is literally and emotionally naked for much of this meta role. She also endures an absurd amount of prosthetics and physicality in an insane third act, conveying the complicated trauma of a woman who will do anything to retain her youth, not realizing the true cost of that deal. But her most pointed scene comes when she can't leave her apartment for a date, constantly altering her appearance in the mirror before collapsing in a pile of tears, shaking and unable to function.

As Sue, Qualley's job is tougher than it first appears, playing the vainest, most selfish version of a woman unwilling to squander her second chance at any cost. The character initially comes across as a cipher who smiles and looks pretty enough to please the ratings hungry Harvey, until all the attention goes to her head. Viewing Elisabeth as a loathsome burden that needs disposing of, the only thing more jarring than Sue's self absorbedness is how good Qualley is at portraying it, her iciness setting the stage for a showdown where neither can possibly walk away the winner.

Dennis Quaid's scenery devouring turn as this slimy producer isn't intended to be multi-dimensional, but he entertains every minute he's on screen as you eagerly anticipating his next appearance. Diabolically sleazy with his sinister smile and passive aggressive misogyny, Fargeat films him in these uncomfortably extreme close-ups that make the character look like the grossest person on Earth, especially when he's sloppily inhaling a plate of seafood. Comically repulsive, Quaid knows what movie he's in, even if his showy work will unfairly fly under the radar amidst justifiable praise for Moore and Qualley.

In addition to cinematographer Benjamin Kračun eye-popping, immersive visuals, production designer Pierre Olivier-Persin creates this unforgettable look for a bizarre time vacuum that looks and feels like the 1980's, but isn't quite. It also contains a windfall of cleverly coded cinematic references that range from The Shining to 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Elephant Man, Basket Case and Carrie. 

Elisabeth and Sue do eventually find a way to coexist in a blood soaked New Year's climax, though not at all how either expected, as both hold their funhouse mirror up to the ugly society that's rejected them. Filmed in a hyper realistic style that comes right out of Cronenberg's playbook, there's a deliberate build to the chaos that makes its gruesome payoff even more satisfying and thematically relevant. Lacking all pretense of restraint, Fargeat gleefully beats us into submission with sickening thrills and a fearless Demi Moore, who gives a performance unlike anything else in her career.