Shell
★★
MA. 101 minutes
The beauty business is proving a boon to body horror fans. Vanity may not be one of the seven deadly sins, but perpetrators have had a punishing time on screen lately.
Kate Hudson and Elisabeth Moss in Shell.Credit:
Max Minghella’s Shell is the latest addition to the genre. At last year’s Toronto Film Festival, it was upstaged by the macabre Demi Moore hit The Substance, but it does have its moments. As he demonstrates in the film’s blood-soaked opening scene, Minghella knows how to make the flesh creep, but his adolescent taste in humour takes away a lot of the pain.
Samantha Lake (Elisabeth Moss) is an actress desperately trying to invigorate a career that stalled after the end of the television series which briefly made her famous.
Her agents are still dispensing fulsomely insincere platitudes about her prospects, but after she fails her latest audition, they abandon subtlety to suggest a little rejuvenation.
As a result, she arrives at the Shell clinic, which bases its anti-ageing treatments on the notion that crustaceans and other sea creatures never get old. The clinic’s methods of applying this theory remain mysterious, but proof of their efficiency can be seen in the flawless figure of the company’s chief, Zoe Shannon (Kate Hudson), who claims to be 68.
Minghella has enthusiastically embraced the absurdity of this scenario, opting for a high camp world, full of shiny surfaces, glib conversations and cartoon characters cultivating their connections. Hudson plays the bitch goddess while Moss sportingly tackles the role of ugly duckling. She slouches through the early scenes wearing a dun-coloured parka and a wounded expression, being patronised by everyone she meets until Zoe takes her up, promising to restore her confidence and reveal the glamorous being they both know to be hiding somewhere under the hoodie.
Predictably enough, Samantha’s first treatment at Shell is a great success and her career gets a boost when she is given a part in a film. Then comes the appearance of a mole on her neck, and by the time she gets to a mirror, disaster is well on its way.