Review: A Hollywood star wants more time, but ‘The Substance’ doesn’t give her a reason

As a seasoned film critic who has spent decades navigating the celluloid jungle, I must say that “The Substance” is a wild, unapologetic ride through the heart of Hollywood’s shallows. The film’s audacity and brashness are reminiscent of a neon-lit, fishnet-wearing diva storming onto the Sunset Strip, demanding attention and delivering a punch to the gut.

Film director Coralie Fargeat has a keen interest in the human posterior. Her film “The Substance,” which won at Cannes for its offbeat humor regarding an elderly Hollywood actress with a remarkable tolerance for self-inflicted pain, showcases more bottoms per minute than an ashtray of a chain smoker, making this even more impressive given the movie’s running time of nearly 2 hours and 30 minutes. Whether they are accentuated by spandex or swinging freely in the nude, each is captured by the camera with an intense desire, much like how a burger commercial craves its buns. It’s clear that in this horror film centered around body horror, a person’s value is solely as meat. With brave and fierce leads Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley, who are willing to let the camera dissect them into pieces of flesh – lips, legs, hair, wrinkles, and yes, backsides – for a movie that prioritizes shock value over plot development, expect a generous helping of their blood and viscera as well.

The plot is straightforward: Once-acclaimed celebrity Elizabeth Sparkle (previously Moore) finds herself past her prime as a TV aerobics host, marking the end of her career descent in show business. In the past, Elizabeth was gifted; rumor has it she even won an Academy Award, as suggested by her manager Harvey (Dennis Quaid), who sarcastically comments, “Oscar winner, if you believe that.” However, these accolades seem distant memories to Elizabeth herself, as she now perceives herself as little more than a pair of toned legs.

Elisabeth’s proposal involves a special substance, referred to as the Substance, which divides her cells and generates a younger version of herself who emerges from her back and assumes control over her life. As Sue (Qualley) struts into Elisabeth’s former TV station, an excited Harvey swiftly appoints her his new fitness guru. A sequence featuring various dance moves follows! The editing is lively, engaging, and relentless; if each hip movement or injection scene were shown just once, the movie would run for 90 minutes.

The entity known as ‘The Substance’ comes with two challenges: Initially, one woman takes turns every week, leaving Sue merely seven days to perform before handing over her awareness to Elizabeth. This pattern must be maintained, or dire consequences may ensue. The heartbreaking aspect is that beneath their skin, Elizabeth and Sue remain unaltered; they retain their superficial goals, their deep-seated self-hatred allowing them to abandon their ailing older bodies on the bathroom floor callously, as if discarding a soiled towel. It’s almost like Barbie came to life but refused to grow or develop.

In this movie, all the male characters are unappealing, including the muscular ones, and they gradually transform into an indistinguishable group of graying men. However, Fargeat is a rebellious feminist, akin to Carrie on a rampage at the prom, who forcefully argues that her protagonist is her own harshest critic. Remarkably, Sue continues to smile submissively towards the very same men who abandoned Elisabeth. Despite her injuries and visible scars, there’s no hint of inner strength or resilience.

The movie doesn’t seem to have much depth or complexity to it, I must admit. It’s more about style over substance, reflecting a shallow world, and just like its main character, it doesn’t pretend to be anything more. Fargeat demonstrates a flair for filmmaking, with an unofficial degree in MTV and ’80s VHS, particularly the gruesome scenes that elicit both shock and laughter. Her visual style is as bold as a stop sign (even naming Quaid’s villainous producer Harvey), and her storytelling is heavily reliant on vivid imagery to the point where it feels like a comic book. The opening sequence without dialogue, showcasing Elisabeth’s rise and fall on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame, is brilliantly done. If this were a graphic novel, we might miss the effective sound design of squelches and pops, although it would make some scenes easier to bear, such as Quaid chewing shrimp or when he seems to urinate in our laps as he approaches the screen.

In simpler terms, the screenplay for this Cannes-winning film appears to show little concern for its own script. The French director, Fargeat, has minimized dialogue to roughly 10 pages, with many parts repeated in flashbacks. Fargeat is like a DJ who blends her favorite movies and music videos, such as “The Fly,” “Sunset Blvd.,” and early-2000s sleazy videos, into this film. She openly acknowledges her inspirations, much like someone requesting Angelina Jolie’s lips and Charlize Theron’s nose during a plastic surgery consultation. In one instance, I thought the special effects creature resembled Gollum from “The Lord of the Rings,” and it turned out to be true when I saw the end credits. However, by the time the iconic “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” music was played (a piece that should not appear in a movie for another 2001 years), we were eager to hear Fargeat’s unique voice in her work.

The movie primarily explores the tumultuous roommate relationship between Elisabeth and Sue, without delving into details about the creators of the mysterious substance or its impact on other users. The film seems indifferent to exploring Elisabeth’s character in depth, as she appears to lack friends, personality layers, hobbies, or personal interests beyond her physical attractiveness. On a talk show, her superficial comments receive enthusiastic applause, suggesting that her fans are more interested in her appearance than her words. Without the energetic performances of Moore and Qualley, the movie would be as dull as a one-dimensional pin-up image. In my opinion, it’s Moore’s performance that truly holds the film together.

Mootee experienced the Hollywood depicted by Fargeat in satire, spending over four decades in the industry. It’s likely she’s been questioned more about her fitness regimen than her artistic skills. Her steadfastness lends authenticity to the movie. One wouldn’t endure such intense lighting unless fully committed to the cause. In return, she’s been given a significant role that is massive, grim, courageous, humorous, and flashy, requiring a complete reassessment of her career, as well as the compliment of convincingly portraying 50 at the age of 61. Despite the film’s insistence she’s an old hag, we know – and Mootee knows we know – that she could outdo squats by any audience member. (If she isn’t content with her appearance, we’re all in trouble.) As for Qualley, the fact that this role is just another bold undertaking in her filmography represents the only glimmer of hope “The Substance” provides. Her body of work – rather than her physical self – demonstrates that an actress’ fortunes can indeed change for the better.

Read More

• PSP PREDICTION. PSP cryptocurrency
• GBP MYR PREDICTION
• USD ISK PREDICTION
• UNIBOT PREDICTION. UNIBOT cryptocurrency
• JPY VND PREDICTION
• GENE PREDICTION. GENE cryptocurrency
• NFAI PREDICTION. NFAI cryptocurrency
• GNO PREDICTION. GNO cryptocurrency
• CWAR PREDICTION. CWAR cryptocurrency
• EUR HUF PREDICTION

2024-09-20 00:31