Directing: B+
Acting: B+
Writing: B
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B
Special Effects: B+

There is a lot going on in The Substance, both metaphorically and metatextually. It takes a wild, uniquely gory look at self-destructiveness (a pretty literal take on that, actually), self-loathing, obsessions with fame and celebrity and youth.

Writer-director Coralie Fargeat is looking at all this through a decidedly feminist lens. I’m honestly surprised it doesn’t seem to be getting review-bombed by users at places like MetaCritic or IMDb, and my working theory is that Fargeat is offering so much legit body horror that the incels are too giddy to notice. This movie is entirely set in Hollywood, begins and ends with a shot of a (fictional) star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. One brief shot of it actually getting snowed on seems a little odd, yet still emblematic of how stylized and heightened everything is. Nobody talks like a normal person. The do, however, say things we’ve heard said in earnest a million times, like “Pretty girls should always smile!” It just gets a delivery with a kind of exaggerated effusiveness that only underscores how ridiculous it is.

Dennis Quaid is the third lead in The Substance, and he’s the one who utters that line, as a slimeball TV producer—multiple times. He is perfectly cast, and as performer, he knows the assignment.

Best of all is Demi Moore, in a lead part more significant and high-profile than anything she’s done in well over ten years, arguably even twenty years. She plays a bit of a has-been as Elizabeth Sparkle, who won an Oscar once upon a time but long ago pivoted to many years of leading an exercise show on television—shades of 80s-era Jane Fonda there. When she learns that the producer is looking for a much younger woman to replace her, Elizabeth finds herself facing an offer: turn into two selves, one young and beautiful, the other her current version. They must switch back and forth every seven days. It gets complicated.

And this is where the metatextual elements begin, very early on: it’s Elizabeth Sparkle’s 50th birthday, but Demi Moore is 61. With that knowledge, she looks amazing—even factoring in how much work she must have had done. Which begs the question: if you can tell you’re faking a youthful appearance, then what’s the point? Ironically. this may be the lease vain performance Demi Moore has ever given. Dare I say: yes, brave. Within minutes after The Substance starts, we see countless extreme close-ups. This includes close-ups of Dennis Quaid, including a scene of him eating shrimp in a restaurant that is just as disgusting as anything else in this very, very gross movie. But there are also many close-ups on Demi Moore’s face, as Elizabeth becomes self-critical to the point of insanity, but we are seeing Moore’s actual face, her actual pores, her actual blemishes. It’s an incredible commitment to the art.

Mind you, Moore gets much uglier later in the film—but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The Substance is a film that nearly transcends its obvious imperfections simply by being uniquely compelling. It’s less concerned with saying anything new than it is with illustrating extremities, particularly of women and the pressures to be young, beautiful, and entertaining, by themselves as much as others. The finesse with which Coralie Fargeat draws these illustrations is perhaps a larger question. The Substance is 140 minutes long, its length perhaps being a part of its statements on excess, except it could have been even more effective had it clocked in just under two hours.

There’s also the fact that everything The Substance does, the 1992 horror comedy Death Becomes Her did better. Trust me on this: if you have never seen that film, find it, and watch it. The way it skewers celebrity and youth culture is both evergreen and unparalleled. It even starred “aging” actors Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn (who were 43 and 47 at the time, respectively). Fargeat basically took that film and crossed with with notorious the notorious gross-out horror movie The Fly (1986). There’s even a close-up of a fly drowned in a wine glass, making one wonder if that is a deliberate reference.

In the last 20 minutes or so, Fargeat really puts the pedal to the metal, amping up the gore to such a degree that it comes across like the climax of Carrie as directed by Quentin Tarantino. The allegorical elements of The Substance kind of blend together after a while, making the narrative lose focus. Until then, we get standout cinematography by Benjamin Kracun (Promising Young Woman), and a script with such straightforward simplicity on the surface that it’s easy to forget how layered it really is. This is the very thing that gives this film a surprisingly broad appeal. At least, theoretically: it made only $3.2 million last weekend, on a budget of $17.5 million. It’s also competing against a lot of more straightforward horror movies, without the tiered depth.

If you’re looking for something that will gross you out, though, then look no further than The Substance. Margaret Qualley, as Sue, the “younger, better version” of Elizabeth, basically giving birth to herself out a slit in Demi Moore’s back is just the tip of the iceberg. You’ll also find plenty of vomit, pus, and deformed breasts and sometimes fall off of bodies. I’m a little bit lost as to why Marget and Sue, who are impressed upon that “You are one,” evidently don’t have memories of what their other selves are doing in the alternate weeks they have agency. But Elizabeth can’t let go of the dream of youth, while Sue has zero concept of the wisdom of age, and as a result they both make wildly stupid decisions, which only make things worse for themselves. Or herself.

Margaret Qualley is well cast as Sue, if not given quite as meaty material to tear into. Ironically, she seems cast more for her beauty than anything else. Indeed. there are many pointed, gratuitous shots of young, supple bodies, and I kept thinking about what the audition process must have been like for this movie itself. It’s participating in the very grotesquerie it’s critiquing. How effective that makes it as a living work of art is up to you.

Overall: B+