Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance takes a gross, gruesome bite out of modern beauty standards in outstanding fashion.

“Is she pretty on the inside?/Is she pretty from the back?”

That line in Hole’s “Pretty on the Inside” shows the viewpoint of a sex worker, screaming bloody murder at how a woman’s body can be seen as a means to an end. It’s most definitely a criticism, but it’s a bit alarming how many men have used that mantra at face value without looking deeper into how much it lessens a woman’s worth. There have always been men leering at attractive women and dismissing anyone else that doesn’t meet their beauty standards (or sexual standards, if you think harder about it). The snowball effect that creates, from sadness to anger to self-loathing to destruction, is more common than you think. How much is one willing to destroy themselves to be “better?”

That’s the main query of The Substance, or rather the movie’s main character: Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore). She’s living in the gorgeous glow of Hollywood while smiling through daytime TV. That smile starts to crack when her talent agent (Dennis Quaid) says she’s outlived her usefulness now that she’s the shocking, appalling age of *checks notes* 50. Then a mysterious figure gives her the info on something called “The Substance,” which will supposedly bring about a whole new version of Elisabeth. That version calls herself Sue (Margaret Qualley) and her sparkling, 20-something figure is the apple of everyone’s eye. But there must be a balance: seven days of Elisabeth for seven days of Sue. Can Elisabeth live with herself much longer? Or is Sue about to lose control of everything?

Up close and personal.

You will not be able to look away from The Substance. That’s mostly due to writer/director Coralie Fargeat (Revenge) forcing the camera right into the faces and figures of her actors. The amount of intense close-ups stuffed into the movie’s 141 minutes is so unsettling that even M. Night Shyamalan would tell the camera to back away slowly. And yet, the movie is both hard to look at and a visual splendor thanks to the beaming day-glow cinematography from Benjamin Kracun (Promising Young Woman). There’s a druggy haze pumped into its imagery: one minute it has the visual aura of being on ecstasy with hot pinks and lens flares from stage lights, the next minute it harshly cuts between stilted shots of characters and warped images of Hollywood glamor. It’s like if someone spliced a Sabrina Carpenter video into Requiem for a Dream.

And those aren’t the only influences on display, nor are they the most surprising. There are hints of Stanley Kubrick’s fears of lavish society destroying the soul, David Cronenberg’s obsession with the ways of the flesh, and even a scooping of James Gunn’s early days of B-movie body horror. What Fargeat brings to the table is the trick of pleasure to sell the sadness underneath. Sure there are glamorous shots of Elisabeth’s swanky pad and close-ups of Sue’s *ahem* flexible workout video (titled “Pump It Up,” and you’ll see why), but the brokenness of both heroines keeps crashing through the beauty. Even as the movie’s final act shifts into wickedly-enjoyable lunacy, Fargeat still does exceptional work balancing that with the horrors of sexism and beauty standards.

There could be accusations that all the glitz and goop are window dressing for a very basic message underneath it all. Subtlety is not in the wheelhouse of The Substance, but it doesn’t need to be. A story with themes tied to how someone views themselves would do well to have those themes put right in front of an audience’s faces. They’re looking at their flaws and vanities almost everyday, might as well make them confront the errors of public perception by holding up a mirror. Compare it to Jane Schoenbrun’s equally outstanding I Saw the TV Glow, which balanced the hidden horrors of suburban life with the revelations in coming-of-age through pop culture. While Schoenbrun’s feature has more of a slow-burn simmer and The Substance keeps thrusting itself in your face, both are effective at using gorgeous cinematic imagery to hammer home a deeper message about the self.

Smile like you mean it.

Despite the maximal imagery on display in The Substance, the cast is actually quite minimal. Not to say that they don’t thrust themselves into every scene, far from it. Especially with Demi Moore, who very wisely uses her sharp facial features and piercing stare to show one of the most glorious human breakdowns in recent movie history. The horror and shame in her eyes in unrelenting, not just on the cruel world around her but also on her own reflection. Every time she looks into the mirror, it’s as if she’s moments away from reaching into the glass and strangling herself. Whether she’s silently self-loathing or screaming in rage, Moore goes all-in and delivers. Not only a career-best for Moore, but one of the year’s flat-out best performances.

Speaking of going all-in, there’s Dennis Quaid. For someone who just rolled-out a passion project about his favorite president (and was met with derision), it’s fascinating to see him chew every bit of scenery in the room any time he’s on screen. Perhaps he had to match the attire given to him: overly-patterned suit jackets, hair so coiffed it’s almost frozen, and just a little too much bronzer. And then that sharp-toothed smile, with teeth turning yellow from all the cigarettes he sucks and the butter he lathers on shrimp. It’s a true devil incarnate presence and Quaid looks like he’s having a little too much fun in the role.

As for Margaret Qualley, it speaks to how strong the movie is that she’s the weak link of the three, but still rises to the movie’s occasion. Proving to be a true chameleon in her career, Qualley embraces the hollow beauty of Sue before succumbing to the shock of the movie’s grand finale. It’s as if she’s doing a riff on the down-to-earth Hollywood newcomer she’s likely been pegged as before. The movie ultimately belongs to Moore, but Qualley is exceptional at handling the garish nightmare.

The bottom line.

It’s been a while since a movie has combined lurid spectacle with scathing commentary with such precision. The Substance is near-perfect for not pulling its punches in terms of body horror while also kicking beauty standards in the balls. Its imagery and effects are over-the-top, but there’s a genuine craft in making sure those elements are consistent and confrontational. In an era where Hollywood wants to churn-out overdue sequels and IP rehashes for easily-disposable consumption, The Substance demands that you pay attention. Not only are you not allowed to look away, you have to look closer.

The Substance is now playing in select theaters. You can watch the trailer here.

Photos courtesy of Mubi. You can ready more reviews by Jon Winkler here.

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