Tropic Sprockets / The Substance

By Ian Brockway

Coralie Fargeat (Revenge) directs an over-the-top cautionary tale starring Demi Moore. While the film will alienate some with its blood-soaked visuals, the Twilight Zone story is held together by the strength of its performers: Moore and Margaret Qualley. [Showtimes and trailer at Tropiccinema.com.]

Screen goddess Elisabeth Sparkle (Moore) gets fired from her long beloved exercise show “You Got It” by sexist TV producer Harvey (Dennis Quaid). Sparkle is devastated by Harvey’s blatant dismissal and his glib admission that he wants someone young. On the way home, distracted, she gets brutally sideswiped by a car. She is taken to the hospital. A nurse assistant gives Elisabeth a flash drive entitled “THE SUBSTANCE” with a note saying that it changed his life. She throws the drive away but then gets a black envelope from the Substance company, changing her mind. She calls the company and is given the number 503. At an office, she is given a box with the equipment necessary to make herself younger in a new body, from her own DNA. But after each 7-day period, Sparkle must revert to her old self through injection.

After a jarring transformation which brings Frankenstein to mind complete with some formidable stitching along the vertebrae, the new 20-ish Elisabeth (Qualley now named Sue) is interviewed by Harvey and he is delighted. Sue now has a new workout show. She is a revitalized rising star. The only problem is that the two sides of Elisabeth become resentful, greedy, and selfish.

The premise and initial imagery are compelling and propulsive with echoes of Mary Shelley, Oscar Wilde’s antihero Dorian Gray, Stanley Kubrick, and vampirism. It is only the last third of the film (when it goes into full body horror mode) that one notices the story losing some of its verve and surprise given the gallons and gallons, upon gallons of blood.

Be that as it may, Moore goes full tilt and all out, giving her strongest and most uncompromising outing in her career, as the cast aside star. She recalls the wondrous Isabelle Adjani in “Possession” (1981) with her spectacular gyrations, spasms, and primal screams. Her pain is sad, tinged violet and visceral. Qualley for her part, is perfect as the slick and robotic ingénue.

While the last scenes feel like a direct copy of David Cronenberg’s “The Fly,” there is affecting pain here too, as we see Elizabeth’s anguished face embedded in grotesque stomach fat.

This revulsion which outdoes “Suspiria” reaches heights of poetry when Elizabeth is reduced to a bloody blob of flesh. Her disembodied face is a cinematic Giallo sun, contemplating the Hollywood night sky peppered with stars, her gory face absurdly wistful despite the avalanche of gore.

Write Ian at [email protected]

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