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The Substance
I view cinema as a powerful empathy machine that puts the viewer in the shoes of a stranger in ways unmatched by any other art form. I’ve taken it as my mission on Earth to experience as many different cultures, ideas, and ways-of-life as I can through the magic of motion pictures. My best-of list this year reflects that goal as much as or more than any other year since I’ve been writing film criticism.
David Cronenberg ain’t got nothin’ on Coralie Fargeat. Cronenberg, the body-horror director who has been called the “King of Venereal Horror” and the “Baron of Blood,” has been namechecked by French director Fargeat – along with David Lynch, John Carpenter, and Michael Haneke – as influencing her work. With her latest picture, the giddily gory The Substance, Fargeat makes a convincing case that she’s ready to join, as a peer, the ranks of those she admires. Her film is as nasty as any Cronenberg, as bonkers as any Lynch, and is so horrifically hilarious that I often found myself laughing as I was wincing and looking away from the screen. The Substance is also a razor-sharp feminist satire about youth and beauty and how both are weaponized against women in our society.
