The Beauty Gives Sci-Fi TV A Campy Shot In The Arm
Ryan Murphy’s beauty-as-STD series is about as nuanced as a gorgeous sledgehammer.
I try to be a sophisticated TV viewer. I watch as many miniseries as I can, keep up to date with the latest in Prestige TV, and make sure I don’t miss out on any sleeper hits. However, I’m also self-actualized enough to admit that I love my fair share of slop. I religiously watch RuPaul’s Drag Race, 90 Day Fiancé, and whatever weird reality craze has grasped pop culture.
Recently, I added the work of Ryan Murphy to this list. I narrowly avoided the Glee epidemic, but I have seen my fair share of American Horror Story, American Crime Story, and recently surprisingly loved All’s Fair, the shameless legal drama centered around Kim Kardashian. So when The Beauty was announced, Murphy’s first foray into pure science fiction, I thought it was tailor-made for me. The result, much like the medication at the center of the story, is visually striking and stylish beyond belief. But effects vary wildly.
Ashton Kutcher hams it up in the best way in The Beauty.
The Beauty follows the formulation of an experimental new shot that forces you through a painful transformation. You get really hot, feverish, have an insatiable need for water, but after all is said and done, you’re really, really attractive. Except when you explode. At the center of the rollout is the mysterious CEO credited as “The Corporation” (Ashton Kutcher), who sees the shot as a way for humankind to achieve godliness, much to his (unmedicated) wife Franny's (Isabella Rossellini) chagrin.
When two detectives (Evan Peters and Rebecca Hall) are sent to investigate a crime related to this treatment, the dark truth behind the origin and future of The Beauty comes to light — and it means a lot of transformations.
For better or for worse, The Beauty does not pull a single punch. The trailer for the series predictably garnered many comparisons to The Substance, and there’s definitely the body horror to back that assumption up. Certain moments made me want to claw out of my own skin, including a grisly degloving sequence. Don’t Google that term if you don’t know what it means.
There’s no better example of the decadence of this series than the way Franny (Isabella Rosellini) is costumed.
Murphy is known for stunt casting, like Kim Kardashian in All’s Fair or Travis Kelce in Grotesquerie, and that’s ever-present in this series, which includes frothy scenes with characters like Ben Platt and Meghan Trainor getting attacked by a Beauty victim played by Lisa Rinna and Harry Hamlin’s daughter. But thanks to this series’ high body count (in every sense of the word), there’s not much demanded of these bit roles besides a pointing-at-the-screen moment.
The brunt of the acting is handled by some true powerhouse guest stars, including Fargo’s John Carroll Lynch and The Gilded Age’s Kelli O’Hara. Evan Peters also delivers a stellar performance in yet another Murphy project, and Ashton Kutcher just chews and swallows every on-the-nose piece of dialogue.
Ryan Murphy is clearly a fan of fictional author Garth Marenghi’s quote, “I know writers who use subtext, and they’re all cowards.” Despite being loosely based on the comic of the same name by Jeremy Haun and Jason A. Hurley, The Beauty isn’t content with just one or two themes. It’s simultaneously an allegory about pretty privilege, hookup culture, big pharma, the AIDS epidemic, and, yes, the other epidemic that shut down the world more than half a decade ago. It’s not a perfect match for any of these real-world problems, so the many monologues it sparks feel at best overly long, and at worst trite. And that’s not even mentioning the out-of-nowhere twist near the end.
The central mystery and grounded performances from Evan Peters and Rebecca Hall help cut the ridiculousness.
That doesn’t mean there aren’t bright spots, especially in moments where The Beauty actually feels justified. The touching story of a trans woman (Rev. Yolanda) feels like the perfect use of the plot device, but it’s just one of many stories that usually veer more toward body dysmorphia and incel-ness.
The Beauty is clearly an acquired taste, but if you’re a TV maximalist like me, it’s worth watching just for the experience. There will probably be some moments you need to look away for if you’re squeamish, but there’s plenty more that make it worth it. Heck, Isabella Rossellini in fancy costumes may make it worth it alone.
