Toronto International Film Festival 2024: THE SUBSTANCE & THE LAST SHOWGIRL

It’s such a poetic coincidence that both Demi Moore and Pamela Anderson are featured in films about the evolving nature of fame and beauty through the lens of time. While The Substance and The Last Showgirl are vastly different, both evaluate mortality by leaning on their respective stars’ relationship with celebrity in real life.

The Substance (Coralie Fargeat)

The Substance (2024) – source: Toronto International Film Festival

After debuting her first feature film in the Midnight Madness program back in 2017 (Revenge), it’s wonderful seeing Coralie Fargeat return for a second outing. The Substance is a ballistic roller coaster for the senses, and bound to be one of the wildest cinematic experiences this year. Demi Moore deserves all the flowers she’s been receiving since the film debuted at Cannes, which is likely overshadowing Margaret Qualley’s equally enthralling performance. 

The film revolves around a mysterious substance that allows individuals to live through an alternate, and supposedly more perfect, version of themselves. Moore plays an aging actress (Elisabeth Sparkle), who comes across said substance after her long-running fitness show gets canned by her television network. Taking the substance results in the creation of Sue (Qualley), the younger counterpart to Elisabeth, whose youth quickly impresses sleezy studio executive, Harvey (Dennis Quaid).

Through its body horror narrative, the film is essentially an indictment on the unfair standards of female beauty set by society; or perhaps more specifically, by men. The fact that these standards can turn women into monsters, both figuratively and literally, serves as the film’s thematic backbone. Everything is a bit on the nose with The Substance, which plays into the subliminally grotesque world created by Fargeat. She simply doesn’t hold back at all, and keeps revving her creative engine in order to constantly elevate the visceral nature of the narrative.

Moore is better than she’s ever been, and those sounding the alarm for a potential awards run this fall are not wrong. She pours her entire soul into the role, with the meta aspect of her own celebrity adding to the performance. Qualley matches the vigour of Moore, serving as the perfect counterpart. Both performances are visceral and physically challenging, while also brimming with emotional fortitude. Quaid also chews up the scenery playing a vile studio executive – appropriately named Harvey in one of the film’s most tongue in cheek choices – channeling his inner Nicholas Cage and clearly having a grand time.

Fargeat proves that she’s a true master of her craft, creating a film unlike anything else. The Substance goes so hard for so many different reasons, resulting in something that is completely bonkers, while also being astute and thoughtful. It’s rare, but certainly welcoming, to see a film accomplish such a feat with this level of conviction and artistic mastery.

The Last Showgirl (Gia Coppola)

The Last Showgirl (2024) – source: Toronto International Film Festival

Gia Coppola’s The Last Showgirl might take a conventional route in exploring the realities of an aging artist, but manages to do so with heartfelt ingenuity. Pamela Anderson delivers the performance of her career, in a role that befits her own lived experience as an actress.

Set in the blinding lights of Las Vegas’ infamous strip, veteran showgirl Shelley (Anderson) is taken aback after learning that her stage show will be closing after more than 30 years. Her stage manager, Eddie (Dave Bautista), breaks the news to her abruptly one evening, shattering Shelley’s life in unexpected ways. She tries to reconnect with her estranged daughter (Billie Lourd), all while searching for a clear direction for the next chapter of her life. Jamie Lee Curtis is terrific as an ex-dancer turned cocktail waitress, while Brenda Song and Kiernan Shipka play younger dancers on the same show.

On the surface, The Last Showgirl meanders around the challenges of being an aging erotic dancer. The show shutting down is disappointing for Shelley due to reasons that are clearly rooted in nostalgia. At the same time, its impact on her ability to find gainful employing as a dancer in her 50s creates a much more practical reason for disappointment. This is contrasted with her much younger counterparts, who quickly find auditions and have a completely different outlook on the future.

Yet, as we learn more about Shelley’s motivations, we realize her disappointment also stems from the lost opportunity to pursue a meaningful artistic endeavour. While the show itself might not be deemed high art to those around her – including the few who still count themselves as attendees – to Shelley, that’s exactly what it is. And it’s through Anderson’s stunning performance that we realize how vital being an artist is to Shelley, and how the show was always an outlet for artistic expression for her. Curtis’ character punctuates this point towards the end of the film, when she breaks out in a very touching impromptu dance scene that is clearly paying homage to her performance in True Lies. 

The way that the film illustrates the individuality of being an artist, and the often misunderstood sacrifices made by those pursuing their dreams, is where The Last Showgirl truly shines. Coppola has created an ode to the realities of facing one’s shattered dreams. The narrative traverses territory that can at time feel a bit too conventional, but thanks to Anderson’s grounded and gripping performance, the film never dives into the realm of melodrama. Her naturalistic portrayal of Shelley is complemented by another career best performance from Bautista, with Curtis being as good as she always is.

Coppola doesn’t necessarily set out to make a subversive film about showgirls, but rather, has crafted a tender story about the tragic undertones of being a dreamer. Setting the story on the backdrop of Las Vegas’ nightlife perfectly exemplifies the judgemental nature of how society evaluates and interprets artistic expression. Anderson is the film’s shining light, but everyone delivers the goods here.