Demi Moore in The Substance (Mubi, 2024)

Just staggered out of the cinema, shell-shocked and delirious, after witnessing what will undoubtedly be the best film I’ll see all year.

Coralie Fargeat’s audacious debut film, Revenge (2017), concerns a young woman called Jen, who is raped and left for dead by three men. Over the course of the film we are witness to Jen’s transformation from a meek, fun-loving person, into a vengeful spirit of death. The film is stunning to look at, painful to watch, and brutal as all hell. If you have indeed seen it, then you might think you have an idea of what to expect from The Substance.

You have no idea.

Fargeat has crafted a timely (and timeless) narrative based on the unobtainable demands on women, not just in the entertainment industry, but in general, to remain young and attractive in order to remain relevant. Not only that, but male viewers will find their gaze (intentional or not) challenged, and if you allow it, this film will make you feel more uncomfortable than any previous essay on beauty standards in the eyes of men. As with Revenge, transformation is central to the story’s conceit but (as a shallow, dodgy movie lover), I’m not primarily here for the message. I’m a horror kid, so it needed to deliver, and it delivered in spades.

Trust me when I say this film is an assault on the senses; from the hyperrealism of the cinematography, through the extraordinarily heightened sound design, to the intense score. All of it pounds away at your eyes and ears for 140 minutes.

Margaret Qualley as Sue in The Substance

I want you to go in cold, so all I’ll say plot-wise is that an aging star, turfed out of her own show when she hits 50, turns to a mysterious drug called ‘The Substance’ (see: Ozempic) in a last-ditch effort to stay in the spotlight. The Substance comes with a complex set of rules, and an even more complex set of equipment, but the bottom line is you will ‘birth’ a younger, better version of you, a version that is still YOU. Rules must be adhered to, with dire consequences for breaking them.

They get broken.

Demi Moore (Elizabeth) is brilliant in this, and I’m delighted to see so much praise being hurled her way. She is fearless and stripped to the bone in this role, as is Margaret Qualley (Sue), who gives an equally amazing performance as the younger, better, version. The two of them play terrifically off one another in a ramped up Jekyll and Hyde situation in which the alter-ego is nothing more than a selfish parasite.

Dennis Quaid as Harvey

There are many stand-out scenes, including a heartbreaking sequence of Elizabeth getting ready for a date, and Sue taking things to the next level in a series of horrific decisions. Dennis Quaid, stepping in for Ray Liotta who passed before filming, is wonderfully disgusting as a slimy producer called Harvey (natch), and chews up the scenery (along with four pounds of shrimp) with wild abandon.

Finally, let’s get to the horror. There’s plenty of wince-inducing amateur surgery on display, and some truly excessive violence, but the main ingredient is body horror. Body horror is a deal-breaker for some moviegoers — but if you enjoy such fare as The Fly, The Thing, Society, or any Cronenberg joint really, then you will get a kick out of this — for not only does Fargeat lean into this sub-genre, but she pushes it to 11, and concludes with the most wonderfully gonzo, horrifically bloody third act that you will have seen in a long time.

Am I gushing? Yes, I’m gushing. It’s an astonishing bit of filmmaking, and I urge you to go see it ASAP — this truly is a big screen, big sound, shared audience experience.

I can’t wait to see what you think!

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Neil Baker’s last article for us was Part III of Biggus Footus, his Bigfoot film survey. Neil spends his days watching dodgy movies, most of them terrible, in the hope that you might be inspired to watch them too. He is often asked why he doesn’t watch ‘proper’ films, and he honestly doesn’t have a good answer. He is an author, illustrator, outdoor educator and owner of April Moon Books (AprilMoonBooks.com).