right, vivid, high-contrasting colors, presenting each frame as if a pastel painting – often with flat, head-on shots, not unlike in Wes Anderson films – set the stage for this singular picture; the bulk of the following imagery preserves a sense of antiseptic locales, stark environments, and dazzling hues in costuming and in precisely decorated, symmetrical sets. With that same intentional focus, the opening scenes, depicting the installation of a Hollywood star that deteriorates with age – tread upon, discolored, ruined with stains – as it steadily becomes overlooked and forgotten, couldn’t be more explicit in its foreshadowing. In many ways, it’s the kind of foreshadowing that doesn’t merely hint at what will come, but reveals it exactly with artistic counterparts.

On her 50th birthday, Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) finishes shooting the latest episode of her fitness show “Sparkle Your Life.” But despite her exquisite physical form, she’s too old for showbiz – or, at least, that what’s the callous executives around her, such as Harvey (Dennis Quaid, going completely over-the-top), keep parroting. “I have to give people what they want,” he insists, attempting to convince Elisabeth that audiences are only interested in the vigor and vitality of youth. Shortly after that meeting, on her drive home, she gets into a car accident, which miraculously causes no medical harm to herself, even though her vehicle is demolished. But at the hospital, an attendant slips her a USB device with information about a mysterious new drug – The Substance – which promises a way to obtain a second chance, particularly with de-aging. The catch is that it will separate her into two versions of herself, each of which must be given exactly seven days to exist, before switching roles with the other. “Have you ever dreamt of a better version of yourself?”

As the music warns of the horrors to come, the film establishes its premise in visually sumptuous ways, borrowing a little here and there from a great many movies, spanning numerous genres – including “A Clockwork Orange,” “The Fly,” “Seconds,” “Brazil,” “Delicatessen,” “Black Swan,” “Dead Alive,” and even “Men In Black” and “Under the Skin.” It’s also obvious that it lifts concepts from “Re-Animator” and several of David Cronenberg’s productions. But regardless of the many derivations, the end product is uniquely disturbing – but also remarkably funny, making the most of grotesque close-ups (including needles and other sharp objects), vulgar language, general loudness, eerie sci-fi designs, the frank crudeness of celebrity ideals, and even lightly malfunctioning items for extreme contrasts. It’s downright hysterical in its ickiness. “I have shaped her for success.”

It makes no sense, of course, that Elisabeth’s rejuvenation would arrive in the form of an ebullient young woman called Sue (Margaret Qualley, who’s spotlighted rump is essentially a co-star), or that the instructions, which are given in large blocky print on a handful of note cards, wouldn’t bother to mention that one must have surgical skills (as well as phlebotomist capabilities and a familiarity with what and where the stabilizing fluid is and can be found) to preserve the older husk of a figure (or even that the leftover, hibernating corpse can be simply discarded on the bathroom floor). Additionally, it remains ambiguous and unexplained why memories aren’t shared, though an understanding of using the miracle drug is inherently instilled. But this lends to exceptional body horror moments – the first of which arrives during the initial transition from Elisabeth to Sue. Many additional sequences continue with hasty stabs and injections (playing upon the grossness of key moments from “Requiem for a Dream”), alternating with bloody monstrosities erupting from spotless flesh, again juxtaposing exquisite beauty and peak physique with the failure and mutilation of aging or abused flesh.

As it proceeds to snatch components from other properties, such as “Old” “The Thing,” and “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” while also bearing a striking resemblance to the incredibly obscure “Body Melt” from Australia, this devilish satire stays quite plain-spoken, relishing in in-your-face overtness, routinely disregarding any sense of subtlety. Even innuendo and repetition are conducted without any concern for allowing audiences to interpret meanings – of which this film has many as it skewers body image (and dysmorphia), insecurities, regret, shame, societal rejections, ageism, sexism, addiction, fame, the scrutinizing of the female form by judgmental men, and more. Plenty of themes are explicitly conveyed through blunt dialogue as well, again avoiding all understatement.

Nevertheless, the end result is potent (culminating in outrageous violence and yucks), largely thanks to the superb special makeup effects and to Moore’s acting. Plus, from a technical standpoint – including the cinematography – “The Substance” is phenomenal, generating a genre-bending piece boasting bold, indelible qualities. Unfortunately, the runtime is excessive, reiterating its ideas a bit much, stretching out what could have been a briefer exploration of this timely topic – though the finale (also noticeably overlong yet rewarding, making the same mistake of believing it necessary to see visual chaos from every angle) is certainly striking, trading off its copycat constituents for comical scandalousness. “Everything’s fine.”

– Mike Massie