Film Review: The Substance

Score: 2.5/4

Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance is the grossest movie I’ve ever seen in a theater. At least, I think it is. As I scroll through the mental rolodex of all the other worthy candidates, which include the most deranged of Ken Russell, the most gag-inducing of David Cronenberg, Brian Yuzna’s Society (1989) the ending of Alex Garland’s Men (2022) and most of John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982), I recognize that writer/director Fargeat has probably seen them all; she has taken the gooiest, most squishy and goopy bits from those films and taken them further. Much, much further.

I suppose there are far more depraved and downright sickening films out there- and The Substance is entertaining and a result of a devious imagination, not something I’d call rotten or morally corrupt- but to give credit where credit is due, and to properly warn the uninitiated, Fargeat has really come up with something. I am in awe of the audacity of this movie, which isn’t the same thing as saying I recommend it for everyone.

Demi Moore stars as Elisabeth Sparkle, a celebrity fitness instructor whose best work, according to her rotten manager (played by a wildly unhinged Dennis Quaid), is far behind her. At her lowest, most insecure moment, Sparkle gives in to her curiosity about an underground drug/process called The Substance, which can de-age and rejuvenate anyone. The problem is, as the pre-title sequence demonstrates, The Substance actually splits a person in two, allowing the older self to hibernate, while your younger version (in Moore’s case, played by Margaret Qualley) can strut around Hollywood and have a hot career as a fresh new face. 

Quaid’s character is meant to embody everything wrong with Hollywood but naming the role Harvey is just one of many examples where the film beats us over the head with its spoofery. Then again, I don’t think Fargeat knows the term “less is more.” 

As a send-up of how the entertainment industry treats older performers, it ranges from probing to obvious. The angle of a fitness TV show is odd, unless you consider that Jane Fonda, late in her long film career, found massive success starring in workout videos. 

Calling this satire isn’t quite right, as everything is so overdone, it feels like a satire of what one would consider satire. The jackhammer lack of restraint Oliver Stone demonstrated in his “satire” Natural Born Killers (1994) is the comparable tone. 

Moore’s performance is the film’s center and, thankfully, she’s able to stand out from the onslaught of lunacy around her and give genuine dramatic weight to her character. It’s a joy to watch Quaid tear up the kind of scene stealing supporting turn that would normally go to Nicolas Cage and Qually succeeded in making me truly despise her character. 

Why is The Substance so disgusting? The key is in the sound effects which, like Moore’s performance, the cinematography and especially the make-up, are Oscar-worthy. As icky as the ample, state-of-the-art make-up effects are, a major element to their effectiveness is in the accompanying sound effects, which often sound like a pound of wet pasta, doused in oil, being swished around in a bowl. I knew the movie had numbed me with the scene-to-scene shocks when I grew overly used to the frequent close-ups of a syringe penetrating the skin (normally my go-to for instant recoil). Have I been clear enough? The Substance will probably make even the toughest moviegoer flinch. A lot.

How far does this movie go? Early on, there’s a camera angle that suggests Quaid is walking right up to us and, thanks to effective sound effects, it sounds like, barely off camera, he’s peeing right in our direction. You know the movie is out to get you when an early gag is suggesting Quaid is urinating on the audience, which is roughly what it’s like watching Dennis Quaid in Reagan. Just kidding. I didn’t see Reagan.

Everything about The Substance is gratuitous. Other than sexual violence and fecal matter, this movie has everything. 

If you’ve read this far, then maybe with the right expectations, a healthy sense of humor and the ability to tell yourself, “It’s only a movie,” you can have some fun with The Substance. I mostly liked it, though part of that is due to my admiring how far Fargeat insists on taking every scene. 

A mid-movie sequence where Sparkle discovers someone else using The Substance is so good, I wish the film had expanded on it and revealed that, perhaps, everyone in Hollywood is also an addict. Considering how The Substance is basically Death Becomes Her (1992) directed by Cronenberg, a little more world building could have really positioned it as a rich takedown of movie star beauty standards and sexism. As is, both Black Swan (2010) and The Player (1992) are better at criticizing the unrealistic expectations and psychological abuse inflicted on performers in the entertainment industry.

The Substance is probably easier to watch on the small screen, which is where I expect most will see it, though I wouldn’t trade anything for the jaw-dropping experience I had watching it with movie critic friends of mine. Leaving the theater and practically crawling out to the lobby afterward, we were all sort of in awe and completely wrung out by it. 

My star rating is two-and-a-half stars, which is, fittingly, a mutation of two stars. If you consider yourself squeamish and have never seen a movie with the words Evil and Dead in the title, do not even consider seeing this. For everyone else, whether you love it or loathe it, you will never forget it. 

I dare you to see it.