A question repeatedly came to my mind during an outrageous and bizarre horror film called “The Substance,” which had its North American premiere Thursday night at the Toronto International Film Festival.
What the hell is wrong with people?
Our judgment begins with damaged to deranged characters.
Elizabeth Sparkle, played brilliantly by Demi Moore (what's wrong with her?!), is an Oscar winner turned Suzanne Somers-esque fitness guru whose palatial Hollywood home is adorned with giant portraits of her younger self.
After Elizabeth is abruptly fired from her TV show “Sparkle with Elizabeth,” the disheartened actress learns about an underground drug called Substance that promises to transform a person into a younger, sexier lookalike. A certified California narcissist, Elizabeth immediately signs up.
It is at this point that we begin to wonder what is wrong with such a talented and creative writer-director Coralie Fargeat, from whose French nightmares this astonishing film surely sprang.
When Elizabeth injects herself with the plutonium-green substance, her back explodes, and her young clone pops out like a xenomorph in “Alien.”
The one unbreakable rule, with dire consequences, is that the young fellow can only walk the Earth for seven days at a time – while Elizabeth essentially hibernates – after which they switch places again.
Almost immediately, Liz's mischievous former boss (Dennis Quaid at his funniest) casts the beautiful clone, who names herself Sue, as the host of his hot new workout show, “Pump It Up.”
Elizabeth wakes up only to be taunted by billboards and posters of Sue, and develops a love-hate relationship with her popular counterpart.
Moore, at her game best and often without any clothes on, gives one of her best performances in years – going from It Girl to Gollum in a little over two hours. The impeccable makeup and prosthetics help, but the real horror builds beneath the surface of her performance.
Qualley, by contrast, spends much of the film smiling and sitting still – never boringly, mind you – but this glossy veneer conceals growing resentment and darkness.
Opportunistic Sue doesn't like the seven-day, one-week nap she takes and goes to harmful extremes to stay awake. (There's definitely something wrong with her.)
This makes the Grand-Guignol finale so bizarre, perverse, and ridiculous that we're left wondering the fact that the investors actually said, “Sure, we'll pay for that.”
As far as the audience is concerned, there is something wrong with us too.
I enjoyed this journey of excitement, pain, madness, and abuse so much that I considered signing up for online therapy to cope.
Maybe that’s because, as weird as it is, “The Substance” is part of a grand, campy tradition. The film is the hotter, younger offshoot of “Death Becomes Her” and, based on a two-woman L.A. household filled with jealousy, even “What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?”
In the end, it's “Frankenstein” And “Young Frankenstein.”
Where Fargeat’s film sets itself apart — and may send some viewers running to the bathroom — is in its body horror elements.
His film is provocative, gruesome, bloody and, to some, nauseating, and is likely to be highly controversial when it hits theaters later this month.
Like the title drug, it's hard to recommend it widely without giving a list of its side effects.
However, there's nothing wrong with the boundless creativity, epic vision, and some gonzo entertainment in today's movies.
And, by the way, it's also a clever dig at our youth-obsessed culture that has a bit of substance to it.
