The Substance

For my money, one of the best things you can do this season is to run to see the French director Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance while it is still playing on the big screen.

Falls into the category of films that men like to claim as feminist.

Extraordinary... This is daring and stylish.

The Substance wields its power not with the precision of a scalpel but a jackhammer.

This is a film unlike any other you will see right now. It will not be to everyone's taste. For this reviewer, who craves originality, it is a winner.

The last 20 or so minutes of this movie — the best part — is wall-to-wall, nonstop blood and gore, mostly done with those old-school practical effects fans like me prefer. The delightful yuck factor made me forgive the film’s numerous problems.

By the time its body-horror finale comes, it’s hard not to feel dejected by squandered potential. It’s impossible to care about the characters when even the filmmaker seems trapped between a malevolent and ambivalent gaze.

The film is too long for its one concept.

The gallons of blood, refreshingly aggressive symbolism and sensational turns from [Demi] Moore and Margaret Qualley all make [Coralie] Fargeat's body-swap romp one of the delightfully unexpected Best Picture nominees of all time.

A new body-horror masterpiece. Pump it up: the sci-fi concept&#59; the stunning command of sound, vision and tone&#59; the savagery and smarts&#59; the gonzo willingness to keep pushing and parodying&#59; the gore&#59; and the career-reviving performance from Demi Moore