Subtlety is not one of Ryan Murphy’s strengths. The prolific writer/director/producer prefers to batter you with an idea over the course of a season. It’s no surprise, then, that his best works are in the horror genre. A realm where being bludgeoned is more acceptable. In the case of The Beauty, the pleasure only goes skin-deep.
Based on the comic book series of the same name, The Beauty focuses on an FBI investigation into a sexually transmitted treatment that turns users into solid 10s. The problem is that the infected keep getting hotter inside until they explode in a fountain of gore. Leading the investigation are agents Cooper (Evan Peters) and Jordan (Rebecca Hall). The duo has a late-season Mulder and Scully thing going where they like to bang off the clock. The “drug” belongs to billionaire tech mogul Byron Frost (Ashton Kutcher) who is busy sending his personal assassin (Anthony Ramos) to take out the infected. That’s just the action in our main story.
Like many of Murphy’s shows, The Beauty has a lot of ideas to share with us. It wants to say something about our culture and the focus on unattainable perfection. It also wants to be a metaphor for how ruinous being beautiful can be. The series gives us a bit of everything and hopes some of it sticks. Plastic surgeons using the treatment to raise their own profile, the undesirables who want to look like movie stars, and the rich getting an easy thrill from it all. The show doesn’t linger on any of these ideas or characters for long. There’s always some new thought waiting around the corner to give the plot a needed spark.
This haphazard focus also affects the characters. While Peters and Hall give admirable performances, it’s hard to get a grasp on their personalities. They’re dedicated to the job and like to have sex. That sums up a significant portion of the population, but it doesn’t make them interesting. Still, they fare better than Kutcher, who seems to have embodied the fantasy version of Elon Musk that exists only in his head. Out of the assembled cast, Ramos appears to have the most fun as our unnamed assassin. He takes an almost perverse pleasure in dispatching people, and it adds a unique energy to the show. That the energy is basically American Psycho is just a fun bonus. It’s also not the only movie The Beauty owes a debt to.
The series is at its best when we get to the body horror. The treatment changes the infected’s whole person, which brings to mind Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance. Like that film, there’s a clear focus on the gory side of transformation, with this version taking a more Cronenbergian route. The infected become enveloped in a cacoon, emerging the next day with model good looks. The goopy, visceral effects are unnerving and mesmerizing in equal measure. It’s almost enough to sell you on the show.
The Beauty is a satire with nothing particularly fresh to say. It’s suitably stylish and the in-your-face violence is charming at first glance. As you watch, you’re overcome with the sheer vapidity of it all. The show is content to offer vague critiques of beauty culture while overlong shots languish over perfect bodies. In short, it’s Ryan Murphy to a tee: all style and no substance.
The Beauty is streaming on Hulu. New episodes air on Wednesdays.