On the tyranny of youth and beauty

 

   I haven't left a horror film with a grin on my face in a long time. That was the case with The Substance, a freshly minted chunk of body horror that ends with so much unrestrained wildness, I found it impossible not to smile, even if I winced a bit. 

  Director Coralie Fargeat delivers a boldly stylish movie that doesn't flinch when it comes to satirizing female obsession with looks and aging.

   Demi Moore plays a nationally known celebrity, the smiling host of a TV aerobics show. But wait. A career based on a streamlined body has an expiration date. So it's no surprise when an aging Elisabeth learns that she's been fired by her callous boss, Dennis Quaid in a broad, clownish performance as Harvey, an unashamed misogynist with boorish table manners.

     Watching Harvey gobble shrimp is enough to put off your popcorn.

    An early-picture auto accident lands Elisabeth in the hospital, where she's approached by a young man who tells her that she's a candidate for a new treatment. All she has to do is call a number she's been given. After a bit of waffling, she phones.

    The call sets up the movie's major twist. Sparkle learns about The Substance, a fluid she'll inject into her body to produce a younger, better version of herself. This new self,  which emerges from an agonizing split along Elisabeth's spine, is named Sue. She's played by a youthful, vibrant Margaret Qualley. 

    Sue, of course, takes over Sparkle's show, becoming the aggressively exuberant star of Pump It Up With Sue.

     Elisabeth's rebirth comes with rules. Sue only can function in the world for a week at a time before Elisabeth returns. They’re supposed to alternate weeks. 

    Both are constantly reminded that, despite appearances, they're the same person. One can't escape the other.

      Absurd? Of course, but Elisabeth's bitterness eventually clashes with Sue's ambition, and ... well ... it doesn't much matter what happens next. 

      What matters is the slickly realized environment Fargeat creates; she invents an encompassing reality, establishes its rules, and flows her story through a cascade of exaggerated close-ups, highly stylized interiors, and, yes, blood and gore.

      She also alludes to earlier masters such as David Cronenberg and Stanley Kubrick. Film references aside, The Substance feels freshly imagined as an in-your-face exploration of the perils of vanity and the society that seems to demand it.

      You'll find ample helpings of nudity from Moore, who's now 61, and Qualley, who's 29. The nudity is bold but free of erotic cliches. When the camera zooms in on Sue's butt (during her show), it feels as if we're looking at curves that have been cast in polished plastic. 

      We know the Substance code will be violated. When  that happens, Elisabeth begins to age in punishing ways, becoming a grotesque crone in bits and pieces. 

     As for nudity, Moore seems to be saying that her body belongs to her and she'll show as much of it as she wants. Rather than pandering to it, her nudity challenges the male gaze.

      Elisabeth and Sue square off, but Fargeat, whose movie won best screenplay at last May's Cannes Film Festival, has the final word with a Grand Guignol of a finale that refuses to allow either character to wriggle off the hook.

      A bizarre riff on the price of pursuing impossible goals, The Substance barges its way through a whirl of imaginative images, but it only can go so far: It's not easy to make a "deep" film about a movie that’s preoccupied with surfaces.

       Still, Fargeat gives her film a shockingly vivid presence, and her two actresses turn their performances into boldly assertive statements about the tyranny of youth, beauty, and the unappeased hunger for both. 

        

   

'Rough Night' founders -- badly

A strong cast can't save this formulaic and unfunny comedy.

It doesn't matter that the raunchy comedy Rough Night was directed by a woman. It also doesn't matter that Rough Night employs a group of talented actresses that includes the fiercely funny Kate McKinnon.

And while we're on the subject of irrelevance, you should know that it's equally unimportant that Rough Night gives us a much-needed opportunity not take Scarlett Johansson seriously or that the movie makes no fuss about a gay theme with Zoe Kravitz and Ilana Glazer playing former lovers.

Similarly, Jillian Bell's portrayal of the gal pal who Johansson's character has outgrown since the two bonded during dissolute college days is of little consequence.

It doesn't even matter that the movie follows a well-tested formula for crass comedies.

All of these things could have made a difference had this comedy about former college classmates who gather for a bachelorette party in Miami been either perceptive or funny. Maybe, Rough Night isn't funny precisely because of its inability to get close to anything that might be called incisive.

An attempt to darken the comedy -- the women accidentally kill a man they believe to be a male stripper -- isn't handled with enough wit or finesse to save the day. No Weekend at Bernie's, Rough Night arrives on screen as a painful misfire.

Any movie that resorts to cocaine snorting for one of its running gags -- as this one does -- immediately declares itself ineligible for any awards involving imagination.

Even the brilliant McKinnon, who plays an Australian visitor to the US, can't hit the necessary high notes, and the movie leaves us wondering what motivated the filmmakers to encourage McKinnon to channel her inner Naomi Watts.

Although designed as an ensemble comedy, the movie revolves around Johansson's Jess, a woman who has left her hard-partying college days behind to run for the state Senate. Once in Miami, Jess quickly sheds her sense of propriety to join what's supposed to be a fun weekend of clubbing hopping and debauchery.

Now and again, the movie offers scenes involving Jess's fiancé (Paul W. Downs). While the women are trying to be wild in Florida, Downs's character attends a sedate bachelor party. He and his buddies spend an evening at home in New York testing wines. Attendees include comedians Eric Andre, Hasan Minhaj and Bo Burnham, all mostly wasted.

Director Lucia Aniello doesn't do much to explore this bit of role reversal, and Downs's character quickly heads to Miami on a non-stop car trip involving adult diapers, stimulants and beer. Why adult diapers? So there's no need for him to make bathroom stops. A misunderstanding leads Jess's fiancé to believe his impending marriage may be endangered.

In Florida, the women stay at the upscale home of one of Jess's major donors. They also meet a couple of leering swingers played by Demi Moore and Ty Burrell.

Low on creativity, Rough Night at one point finds McKinnon's character feigning sex with the corpse that the women desperately are trying to hide. So, yes, this one tries everything, including a joke about necrophilia. Like the corpse, the joke dies. The movie isn't far behind.