Demi Moore is probably not the first actor you would associate with genre movies, especially not extreme horror. But she does have form with the dark(ish) side of cinema. Of course, there’s Ghost, but she’s also headlined the spooky goings-on in Half Light (2006) and The Seventh Sign (1988). And let’s not forget that one of her very first films was Charles Band’s 3D yucky (in all senses of the word) Parasite in 1982 (absolutely nothing to do with Bong Joon-ho). Seeing as that schlocky project (about wormy creatures bursting from unlucky victims in the near future) was described by Moore herself as “the worst movie I’ve been in”, it’s kind of ironic that over 40 years later she’s getting critical plaudits for another body horror movie. Written and directed by Coralie Fargeat, who made the striking Revenge in 2017, The Substance has built up an enviable reputation at festivals, having critics aghast and applauding at the same time. It’s also the very latest film to rejuvenate that hoary old chestnut of audiences throwing up in the aisles and walking out in disgust. Lightweights. Being made of sterner stuff, we’ve been very much looking forward to seeing this, and as it’s now showing on UK and US screens, that’s exactly what we did.

 

Starting with a very clever overhead montage of a Hollywood star on the Walk of Fame, we’re introduced to the celebrity status of Elizabeth Sparkle (Moore). From the freshness of initial stardom, the star gradually cracks over time and people drop crap on it. You can guess where this is going… Sure enough, despite still being active and attractive to any sane person with eyeballs, Elizabeth finds out that her fitness show is being canned and a younger starlet is being sought as a replacement. Devastated, her mind wanders and she’s nearly killed in a car accident. Whilst in hospital, she’s slipped a note and a memory stick, which introduces her to a mysterious benefactor who can provide her with a substance, called err… “The Substance”. Taking this green goo, and adhering to Gremlins-type rules, causes Elizabeth to spawn a younger version of herself named  “Sue” (Margaret Qualley), although her consciousness can only inhabit one body at a time. Swapping bodies is like a dream come true and she regains her fame to an even greater degree than before. It can’t last though, and just like some celebrities, Elizabeth turns out to be her very own worst enemy.  

 

This is such a wild ride and it’s understandable why (allegedly) Universal Studios got cold feet about distributing it and it was handed to arthouse aficionados Mubi. It’s definitely not going to push everybody’s buttons, but the overwhelmingly positive reactions from the Cannes and Toronto film festivals count for something, as do most reviews from mainstream critics. However, it’s seasoned horror fans who are the most likely to get on board with this wacky body horror. It’s full of obvious metaphors and important messages, but it’s also on par with some of the most extreme exploitation flicks that originated in the 1980s. If that sounds a bit random, think of The Substance as a satirical horror that starts like a vintage David Cronenberg film (The Fly or The Brood), but gradually morphs into an absurdist splatter epic directed by Brian Yuzna or Stuart Gordon (very much like Society or Reanimator). It has that kind of feel to it. Maybe not at the beginning, but you’ll understand by the time the blood-strewn excesses of the final act are reached.

 

At its core, the film is (sort of) an update of The Picture of Dorian Gray, something that is heavily hinted at with the ever-present images of Sue on the billboard on the boulevard and the splintered photo of Elizabeth in her apartment. Both of these have a negative effect on their alternate versions (it makes sense in the film). Mix in elements seen in versions of Jekyll and Hyde, not to mention themes covered in Death Becomes Her, Starry Eyes, and suchlike, and you’ve got an intriguing take on the beauty/celebrity culture in general media (not just the good ol’ USA). The friction between “Elizabeth” and “Sue” should be nonsensical, seeing as they are one-and-the-same person (as she is constantly reminded by the mysterious voice) and only one is active at any time. But of course, the older version becomes jealous of the younger one, and the younger one is resentful of the time wasted on the older version. It’s a genius way to show how some people become achingly desperate to achieve fame or beauty, or at least hold onto it as long as possible. The narrative exaggerates the extent to which they often willingly sacrifice their future health and safety to stay in the spotlight in the present tense. You really get the impression that certain mainstream “celebrities” should be forced to watch this before they’re allowed out on their own again to impulsively get life-altering cosmetic surgery or a huge tattoo on their body.  

 

Much has been made of the nudity, basically because British and American journalists are all big kids who point and giggle at famous body parts when they appear unclothed and onscreen. But the blood and flesh elements shouldn’t overshadow the strength of Moore’s and Qualley’s performances in the film, which are both excellent. The final half of the narrative unlocks an impressive intensity in both of them that ought to be recognised somewhere down the road in a suitable award ceremony. Because their “conflict” in the story not only encompasses the questions raised by such issues as unnecessary surgery or questionable practices to achieve beauty, there’s also an attempt to tap into the simmering resentment between generations that feels prolific in elements of society at the moment. You half expect Sue to start calling Elizabeth a “Boomer” at one point. Also, underlined for comedy and satire, is the different way in which several male characters treat the two versions, with a neighbour quickly simpering under Sue’s flirtations immediately after raging at Elizabeth’s door.

 

There is a bit of a cake-and-eat-it mentality when it comes to the male gaze to some extent. Lingering full-screen shots and body fondling feel uncomfortable in the moment, but that’s the point, although it may have the opposite effect according to some reactions. Dennis Quaid as Elizabeth/Sue’s sleazy boss (called “Harvey”… Hmm, wonder where they got that name from?) is a pantomime character, played with scenery-chewing ferocity by the actor. Truth be told, Elizabeth, Sue, and Harvey are pretty much the only characters with any kind of depth in the whole film. Everything (or so she thinks) revolves around Elizabeth Sparkle and exists in her orbit. There is practically no shot where either of her incarnations isn’t present. It makes for an intimate and surreal portrayal of La La Land. Everything is screen-filling (especially body parts, facial contortions, and eating habits) and filmed in excruciating detail, with most dialogue reduced to meme-level quotes. (“Pretty girls should always smile”). A talk show is simply called “The Show” and everything feels like it’s shot in a studio, even outside locations. It all feels focused and quite possibly filmed from the misleading perspective of the lead character(s).

 

What will really make it sing to fright fans though is the insane second half where questionable decisions and unrealistic chemical effects turn it into a straight-up old-school horror. Fans of that type of genre will be quickly reminded of such cultish good times as From Beyond, The Thing and (I can’t quite believe I’m typing this) The Incredible Melting Man! Seriously. It’s that screwed up. And it’s fabulous in its campy blood-spraying shenanigans, quite possibly using as much fake internal juices and organs as any Evil Dead or Terrifier film does! Who woulda thunk it?

 

It's always going to be a divisive film, with some turned off by the gore, unashamed flesh-flashing, and the over-stylised approach given to the “real world” (and the laws of physics). At a length of 2 hours and 21 minutes, although that running time will flash by for most people, it could do with having some scenes edited more tightly, and less of the many obtrusive flashbacks and needlessly echoed sound bites. But if you’re okay with all that, you’ll be more than happy with all this. Kudos to the lead actors for holding it all together and giving bravura accounts of the “same” person. Hopefully, the risks will pay off with recognition and the horror community will support them for what they’ve done here, as well as the cinematic blood-burp that Fargeat has given us. This is just the sort of risk-taking and ingenious filmmaking that we need on the big screens at the moment to break up safe studio franchise bait and disappointing reboots, especially when it could have easily gone straight to streaming. Moore of the same, please.

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