I usually look for one thing in the cinema. To escape. This is often a rarity if you are hyper-critical of most movies and can’t stand loud popcorn chewers who urinate on that so-called escapism. Escapism is ultimately a story and its characters that envelop every fibre of your being. It doesn’t matter if it’s realistic, if you speak the language or if you’re speedreading the denouement thanks to subtitles. It has to punch you in the stomach. It needs to pluck your heart out of your chest and serve it on a plate back to you. I don’t only feel this way about a good body horror, even if it sounds like I am describing a good body horror. The Substance is the best body horror I’ve seen in my life. It made waves at Cannes and ultimately picked up Best Screenplay. Director, writer and producer Coralie Fargeat conjured up the devil herself. She scraped the blood and guts from seedy LA walls and brewed a stew of cringe 80s fitness videos, Kubrickian hallways, grotesque TV dinners à la Requiem for a Dream, and the ultimate female gaze gazing at females, males and monsters. An over-the-top Dennis Quaid pisses, smokes and eats shrimp to prove that men have and, unfortunately, will always use their grubby fingers to abuse their power. The film uses the abject body and takes it to another level. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and the biggest enemy is oneself, casting its menacing gaze in the mirror. Demi Moore (ironically playing a character called Elisabeth Sparkle) regresses and progresses simultaneously. She acts with her body, heart and soul, crushing every frame. Her performance reminds me of Isabelle Adjani in Possession. Elizabeth is 50, her career is over, and a younger, more beautiful version has to replace her. The only solution is to take a substance that will alter everything so she can be an enhanced version of herself – an utterly compelling Margaret Qualley. This social satire does not preach; it pops. It splatters, and it convulses. A sold-out crowd at our screening was ecstatic. They laughed, shouted, screamed and walked out. They saw the horrors of humanity. They saw themselves.

– François Maree