Courtesy Mubi
The Substance serves up a reminder that in Hollywood, while beauty may be skin deep, desperation goes right to the bone.
Director Coralie Fargeat’s sophomore effort unfurls a phantasmagoria of aging and identity. Demi Moore stars as Elisabeth Sparkle (yes, really) a former Hollywood starlet turned fitness guru who’s about to learn that in Tinseltown, guru is just another word for has-been.
Moore, no stranger herself to the pressures of aging in Hollywood, brings a poignant authenticity to the role. Ousted from her aerobics throne by a sleazy TV exec (Dennis Quaid, embracing his inner snake oil salesman) who hopes to find a younger, perkier model to take her place, Elisabeth does not go gentle into that good night. Instead, she rages against the dying of the spotlight, and does what any reasonable person would do: She injects herself with a mysterious green liquid.
Enter the substance, a treatment that’s less fountain of youth and more create-your-own-clone. Elisabeth’s younger doppelganger, Sue (Margaret Qualley), literally bursts onto the scene in a sequence that’s pure old-school Cronenberg body horror with a glossy sheen, and it sets the tone for the visual feast that follows.
As Sue ascends to stardom faster than you can say “Instagram influencer,” Elisabeth fades like a forgotten ingenue’s IMDb page and is left feeling lost and desperate to regain her fame and desirability. A tug-of-war for relevance or obsolescence unfolds between the two (or, is that one?) actresses and becomes a stark reminder that in Hollywood, youth isn’t just coveted—it’s practically a blood sport.
Fargeat, wearing her director, writer and editor hats, paints this grotesque and sometimes comic fairy tale with the unapologetic subtlety of a Las Vegas neon sign. The visuals pop with reds, yellows and blues so vivid you’ll swear the screen is having an existential crisis. This brazen approach, however, creates a world that’s just left of reality; a perfect liminal space for a Hollywood fable.
Nevertheless, in its eagerness to skewer Hollywood’s treatment of aging women, it often reinforces the very ideas it seeks to critique. The script never fully explores Elisabeth’s or Sue’s emotional depth, keeping them somewhat one-dimensional characters at the disposal of the male gazes present both in the film and the audience. They represent ideas more than truly developed individuals. As the film reaches its climax, it transforms the aging female body into a grotesque spectacle, a move that, while stunning, feels wooden against the backdrop of far richer possible narratives.
Yet, despite its flaws and lengthy run-time, The Substance is surprisingly compelling. It may not offer easy answers, but it asks its questions with style and flair. It’s messy, sparkly, impossible to look away from and dares to get weird in an era of paint-by-numbers blockbusters. In the end, the film is like that one person who had too much plastic surgery—fascinating to look at, but you can’t shake the feeling that something’s not quite right underneath.
Note: The CCA hosts a special early access screening of The Substance at 7 pm on Wednesday, Sept. 18.
7
+Visually arresting; Demi is back!
-Sidesteps its own lofty ambitions
The Substance
Directed by Fargeat
With Moore, Qualley and Quaid
Center for Contemporary Arts, R, 140 min.
