Matter: A North American view on beauty, age and body horror
Elizabeth Sparkle, a celebrated star of a high-gloss fitness TV empire, finds her world upended on her birthday when she is suddenly replaced by a younger face. Then a shadowy offer arrives from the margins of the industry: inject herself with a drug called Matter to forge an enhanced version. The rules are blunt and precise: the original matrix and the copy other must swap consciousness every seven days, and they cannot be awake at the same moment. Elizabeth’s regained youth appears instantly, and she becomes the crowd favorite, but the appetite of the other version quickly spirals out of control, threatening the delicate balance of the matrix.
The premise nods to fairy-tale archetypes like the Evil Queen and Snow White, but reinterprets them through a modern Hollywood lens. Critics observed that French filmmaker Coralie Farge, in her second feature, keeps her-eye on the female gaze, shifting away from the male-centered perspective typical of some prior projects. Rather than following a conventional rape-revenge arc, the film leans into body horror in the spirit of Cronenberg while maintaining a sly, contemporary sensibility that keeps it anchored in today’s culture. The result is a story that feels both intimate and expansive, a critique of image culture wrapped in a high-concept science-fiction premise.
Matter lands as a timely, almost absurd fable: a satire about beauty standards that should have faded long ago, yet still dominate headlines as stars chase rapid shifts in weight and look through modern shortcuts. In 2024 a wave of public fascination with weight-loss medications and cosmetic procedures loomed large, a backdrop this film uses to skew the relentless pursuit of perfection. The feature benefits from a performance that lingers in the mind, with Dennis Quaid delivering a memorable turn as Harvey, a boisterous, almost caricatured producer who embodies the loud, self-assured energy behind many real-world industry figures. His presence keeps the tone buoyant even when the plot tilts toward darker territory.
Farge’s approach nods to Titan, Julia Ducournau’s recent body-horror touchstone, but Matter remains accessible and audience-friendly despite its length and repeated motifs. The film enjoys a certain kinetic pace and a willingness to mix genres in ways that feel fresh rather than showy. Cannes critics noted the screenplay’s craft and the director’s knack for balancing slick style with unsettling moments, a combination that helps the work land with a wider audience than most art-house releases. The result reads as a confident balance act: it toys with discomfort while rewarding viewers who stay with the ride and appreciate the film’s playful bravado. The director’s command of tone is a standout feature, helping the material feel less austere than some peers while remaining unmistakably provocative.
Where the movie risks losing steam is in its tonal shifts. In the second half, the palette blends genre flavors with a more psychological, almost gothic sensibility that some might call a modern echo of psychobiddy cinema. This drift toward aging beauty tropes can feel predictable, especially when the story leans into familiar dynamics of decline and paranoia. Yet the midsection’s pivot to high-energy, Tarantino-like sequences—quick cuts, bold humor, and graphic bursts of action—restores momentum and leaves a lasting impression. For audiences exploring the arc through the lens of both Margaret Qualley and Demi Moore, the contrast between their on-screen presences provides a striking counterpoint that anchors the finale with a strong emotional punch.
For North American audiences, Matter sparks conversations about age, fame, and the pressure to maintain an image in the public eye. The film benefits from two powerhouse leads and a flamboyant supporting turn from Quaid, whose performance adds color and bite to the satire. Reviews from major festival circuits describe the project as a fearless fusion of star persona, speculative premise, and stylized horror, anchored by a contemporary sense of humor. Critics noted that the mix of playfulness and provocation gives Matter its distinctive voice, inviting ongoing discussion about how beauty standards shape the choices of real people and screen icons alike. In this cultural moment, the film becomes less about a single story and more about a social conversation that North American viewers will likely carry into conversations around streaming and theatrical releases across Canada and the United States, where audiences are increasingly curious about the ethics of appearance and the power of technology in shaping desire.
Seen through this lens, Matter functions as more than a gothic thriller or a flashy sci-fi premise. It is a thoughtful, stylish piece of cinema that uses a sensational setup to probe the real costs of chasing youth and perfection. The performances, the director’s inventive staging, and the way the screenplay threads satire with genuine dread give the film a distinctive aura. Viewers who come for the spectacle will also leave with questions lingering about how society valorizes age and appearance, and what it means to reclaim agency when industry imperatives press in from all sides. Critics in Cannes and later screenings recognized this blend of entertainment and inquiry, noting that the film’s energy and ambition make it a memorable entry in contemporary body-horror cinema. In the end, Matter is both a party and a provocation—a stylish, unabashed look at the price we pay for looking perfect, with a clear message about the power of women to shape their own stories, even when those stories come from the most unnerving places in the mind and body.