Demi Moore and a vivid color scheme shine in The Substance

Director Coralie Fargeat has made two movies. First came Revenge in 2018, and now her latest creation, The Substance, is descending into theaters everywhere. Fargeat's fixations are already obvious from these two works, but her greatest recurring artistic trait so far is how she's willing to tell a truth no other filmmaker will approach: chewing is gross. First Revenge depicted, in agonizing close-ups, a male bystander to sexual violence chomping away at a snack. Now The Substance lingers on the grimy teeth of Harvey (Dennis Quaid) as he devours a plate of shrimp while delivering bad news to Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore).

These shots will inevitably make folks recoil in horror long before geysers of gore explode on-screen. However, they also illuminate Fargeat’s gift for uncovering unnerving behavior hiding in plain sight, not to mention her vivid depictions of nonchalantly crude behavior men can just get away with. That insight into the world informs the greatest qualities of The Substance, her latest grimy gusto concoction.

Former movie star and current exercise show host Sparkle has been told that now she’s reached “a certain age”, her career is over. Harvey and a powerful group of shareholders no longer want her on TV. Quietly stewing over this development, Sparkle discovers a potential savior in The Substance. This special liquid creates a younger duplicate of a person, which pops out of your spine. Now Sparkle has an alter-ego in the form of Sue (Margaret Qualley), who takes over Elisabeth’s original gig. One problem: these two women can’t exist at the same time. They must alternate weeks for existing. Sparkle gets one week, Sue gets the next, and so on.

Initially, this situation seems to be going well. After all, Sue is incredibly popular! She’s a star! However, the ascending fame of her younger counterpart begins to frustrate Elisabeth. More urgently devastating is that Sue starts to take matters into her own hands to the detriment of Elisabeth. When beginning The Substance, Elisabeth learns over the phone important rules. Chiefly, she should never think of herself and Sue as separate entities. “You are one”, she is gravely reminded. It’s advice that falls on deaf ears as things spiral more and more out of control in The Substance.

Fargeat’s screenplay incorporates several darkly comedic touches, the most enjoyable of which is the aesthetic of the Substance procedure. Important envelopes from the company behind this element are draped in stark black coloring and a streamlined logo. These props evoke Lootcrate packaging more than anything else! Meanwhile, storage units containing new doses of this Substance look exactly like any Amazon Locker at a typical Whole Foods. Juxtaposing this heightened element against fixtures of Silicon Valley-approved material is an inspired touch. Anything can be commodified into tidy packaging and storage. Even a potential cure for your existential blahs.

Interacting with these inspired touches in The Substance’s production design and props is Demi Moore. The lifeblood of this entire feature, her tremendous work as Elisabeth Sparkle has received endless hype since The Substance’s Cannes premiere. She’s worthy of all that buzz and then some. This fixture of 80s and 90s cinema provides a deeply human center for the rest of this madcap story to orient around. Her Sparkle performance wouldn’t be out of place in a raw down-to-earth indie movie. Moore can get wild too, like her depiction of a frustrated Sparkle making fun of Sue’s arrogant TV interview. However, what really stands out in Moore’s performance is her more restrained flourishes communicating vulnerability.

This is best exemplified in a dialogue-free sequence chronicling Sparkle trying to get ready for a date only to constantly retreat to her bathroom to “improve” her appearance. A billboard of Sue looms over her apartment making her feel even more insecure about her body. It’s a tremendously powerful scene that wouldn’t work without Moore's commitment to exclusively physical acting. That’s the pinnacle of her turn, but it’s just one of many sequences where the Ghost leading lady shines. She lends a tangible heart to Sparkle’s interior struggles no matter how wild The Substance gets.

The only problem with Moore's performance is that she's so fascinating that one yearns for her to return to the screen whenever the script focuses just on Sue. Margaret Qualley portrays this pivotal Substance figure and her work just isn’t as compelling as the film’s other primary performers. Part of that is by design since Qualley is inhabiting a character intentionally framed as vacant. Fargeat’s screenplay uses Sue to provide commentary on what’s considered “ideal femininity” in Western entertainment. Save for insisting that she only works every other week, Sue doesn’t rock the boat nor does she display distinct personality traits that could scare away men. Qualley commits to that thematic concept with welcome dedication.

While delivering deeply improved work from her miscast lead turn in Sanctuary, Qualley’s work on-screen is more perfunctory than outstanding. Such distinctive choices radiate throughout Moore and Quaid’s performances. Qualley’s execution of an intentionally derivative “star” persona needed some of those bold flourishes. Inevitably, lengthy sequences involving Sue will lead viewers to bellow aloud “when are they gonna get back to Elisabeth Sparkle?” Because of this flaw, The Substance’s 144-minute runtime does lead to the film wearing out its welcome in some spots. Thankfully, Fargeat concludes the proceedings with a barrage of gory chaos echoing the finale of Meet the Feebles. If only every new overlong motion picture also conjured up memories of Peter Jackson's warped puppets!

While Qualley's performance and the pacing are a mixed bag, The Substance thrives in its greatest visual touches. The makeup and prosthetics department, which includes folks like Stéphanie Guillon, delivers tremendously gnarly work all throughout The Substance. Meanwhile, production and costume designers Stanislas Reydellet and Emmanuelle Youchnovski, respectively, conjure up a mesmerizingly brightly colored world. Every Los Angeles location appears with hues that would fit right in a Pedro Almodovar movie or a classic Technicolor musical. Vibrant shades even infiltrate Sparkle’s kitchen.

This incarnation of Hollywood is adorned in colors suggesting a land where dreams come true. These fairy tale hues seem to mock Sparkle and Sue as they brush up against the gender-based hardships of this film industry. The walls scream that everything is fine, but the aching in Sparkle’s soul says otherwise. Deeply precise camerawork courtesy of Benjamin Kracun (including utilizing certain lenses that make characters like Harvey look truly outlandish) similarly turns everyday locations into strikingly haunting locations. Such touches also reflect, however briefly, chewing as a repulsive nightmare. What else would you expect from a Coralie Fargeat movie?