Stories about the cost of finding the Fountain of Youth are nothing new. In the modern Hollywood version, where talented young people are treated like an industry labor force, the costs are multiplied. Essence It’s a grotesque fairy tale told in such a light-hearted way that it almost reminds one of a big screen movie. Tales from the Basement episode.
Written and directed by French film director Coralie Fargé Essence This movie scared the audience to the core, had me squirming in my seat and looking away from the screen, and I enjoyed nearly every moment of this movie.
Farge’s last film, revenge, This film, which I also loved, was a similarly oriented rape-revenge movie, full of female rage. material, She trades the scorching heat of the desert for the Los Angeles sun that beats down on her heroine, the aging Elizabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore).
Elizabeth is 50 and considered past the peak of her life. She loses her job and, in a desperate attempt to maintain her relevance, opts for a new miracle drug. However, instead of staying young, the drug creates a younger clone of herself. Farge has worked out a brilliant twist: the clone and the original, the so-called food matrix, are replaced every seven days, without exception.
Margaret Qualley plays a young Elizabeth called Sue, and the scene in which Elizabeth gives birth to Sue, her back splitting open like a Lovecraftian monster emerging, is worth the price of admission. From that scene to the end, Feige Rat evokes the all-or-nothing days of Peter Jackson, pre-Lord of the Rings.
She’s a filmmaker who delights in exploring the fragility of the human body and reveling in its nightmarish elasticity. Some might call her a modern-day Cronenberg, but it’s too early to tell. Still, it’s clear she anticipates clashing bright, dazzling neon with the hot, pale light outside. Essence It’s a great movie, packed with stomach-churning filth.
The Cannes-winning screenplay is uncommonly thin for a horror film — more of a fable than a story — and Moore’s Elizabeth Sparkle mirrors his own trajectory in the film industry. of material It’s as if it exists in a no-man’s land of time: Fargé fills his film with modern technology, but opts for aesthetics and attitudes from previous decades.
For example, Moore’s Elizabeth stars in a hit show that’s a workout show reminiscent of Suzanne Somers and Shirley MacLaine, showcasing Elizabeth’s toned physique rather than showing us how to get healthy.
The show’s sleazy producer, Harvey (Dennis Quaid), wants to fire Elizabeth because she’s old. The aesthetic is all 80s neon, the attitude is 100% 90s, and the technology is all modern. Essence Everything is recognizable but not the same, an unsettling sensation, like entering a labyrinth.
But still, as much as I loved material, I couldn’t help but want to know a bit more about Elizabeth or Sue. Over the course of almost two and a half hours, there is very little dialogue, Farge uses sound and silence, and Lafferty provides an unsettling, pulsating synthesizer score.
But the shallowness of Elizabeth and Sue is part of the point. As horribly ugly as she has become, she is nothing compared to the monsters of vanity and self-loathing that Elizabeth and Sue are. They are repeatedly reminded by a mysterious voice on the phone that “they are the same,” but Elizabeth is too selfish, too vain to ever seem to understand that.
Essence That the film works so well is down to Moore and Qualley, who likely drew at least some of her own experience from her portrayal of the aging, abused Elizabeth. After all, Moore is famous for Essence It was more like a documentary than fiction. Actresses like Megan Fox are more famous for their beauty than their talent, and like many famous beautiful actresses of that time, she is only just now starting to blossom.
Moore throws herself at Elizabeth Sparkles, and in her hands we see the vestiges of a character all but obliterated by self-loathing and a desire to be worshipped rather than loved. Like a classic Universal Monster, she’s a tragic figure who makes us look away while breaking our hearts.
In one scene, Moore’s Elizabeth calls an old classmate to ask her out. She’s wearing a sexy dress and makeup, but she can’t leave her apartment because she can only see her flaws, which seem even more pronounced compared to when she was younger. The scene is similar to Travis Bickle’s call to Cybill Shepherd in Star Wars: Episode I – The Final Battle. Taxi DriverYou almost wish Benjamin Cruncan’s camera would look away, even as the monsters reveal their pain and suffering, which is too much to bear witness to.
Qualley’s Sue is the hedonistic Hyde to Moore’s tragic Jekyll. She enjoys the attention she draws and takes pride in embodying men’s dreams. Like Elizabeth, she confuses lust with love, but is blinded by a ravenous need for adoration. Qualley dons breast prostheses and, evocative of a younger Moore, eagerly dons more revealing spandex.
Sue is given a second chance, but appears to be making the same bad decisions that led to Elizabeth’s recluse-like present. Basking in Harvey’s praise and uncaring about the consequences, Qualley’s Sue is as vulgar as she is beautiful, and cares little for her old “food base.”
In all this, Farge explores how we hate ourselves, how careless we are when we are young, and how our decisions often have far-reaching consequences. Elizabeth hates Sue, not because she is young and beautiful, but because Sue seems to be doing the same things Elizabeth does; like a cycle of abuse she cannot escape. Similarly, Sue hates Elizabeth, because she reminds her that she will not stay young forever, but if she does not try, she will go to hell.
Farge’s editing: of material, A film about how women are treated like meat at auction in Hollywood. With co-editors Jérôme Eltabet and Valentin Ferron, of material The film uses food preparation and eating as a visual analogy for how women are treated, and the violence against meat is vividly reflected in the gutting and stuffing of a chicken, all while Qualley reaches into its stomach, searching for a drumstick.
Essence The film is peppered with shots of firm, nearly bare buttocks, either a fetish or a point she’s trying to make, or perhaps to skirt the MPAA’s stringent standards. The nudity and exposed flesh are beautifully shot, but they feel unsettling when viewed through Clacan and Falfeta’s lens. The switches from smiles to unblinking eyes suggest the emptiness of Elizabeth and Sue’s hearts, as they crave approval from a faceless public.
The only drawback is the fight that breaks out between Sue and Elizabeth, who seem to demonstrate superhuman strength as they toy with each other. Forced metaphors aside, I’m familiar with this fight thanks to comic book movies.
but, The Island of Dr. Moreau, I was once again fascinated by the monsters in the third volume. The monster designs are grotesque and no different to the rest of the movie. However, one of the monster’s faces has a lot of detail that makes it nightmarish. The final scene was a perfect ending, a mix of sad, comedic and disgusting.
I want to call Essence Shallow, but that misses the point: Farge is not aiming for a deep, contemplative examination of his subject, but rather to peel back the scabs and squeeze pus from an open wound.
Image courtesy of Mubi
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