Beauty is pain — that’s a saying that has echoed across generations while being lobbed at women and femme-presenting people. Now in his latest FX series, “The Beauty,” Ryan Murphy and co-creator Matt Hodgson are addressing the real price of aesthetics. Adapted to television from Jeremy Haun and Jason A. Hurley’s comic of the same name, the horror thriller grapples with the cost of perfection and how unbridled greed and power contribute to the instability of our present-day society. “The Beauty” is a frenzied ride that will undoubtedly endear audiences at times and have them begging to get off at others.
“The Beauty” opens at a fashion show in Paris. Ruby (Bella Hadid) steps onto the runway and into the spotlight. However, she is neither poised nor focused. Instead, she’s dazed and sweating profusely. Losing control, she embarks on a violent and blood-filled tirade. Unfortunately, the incident with Ruby is not an anomaly; it’s just one of many recent gruesome displays involving supermodels globally. As a result, FBI Agents Cooper Madsen (Evan Peters) and Jordan Bennett (Rebecca Hall) find themselves holed up at a Hyatt in the City of Lights, determined to uncover the root cause of the incident. What they uncover is a sexually transmitted virus that begins as an injectable drug, transforming people into the most physically perfect version of themselves. This is very similar to the black market drug at the center of Coralie Fargeat’s 2024 body-horror epic, “The Substance,” starring Kutcher’s ex-wife, Golden Globe winner Demi Moore. The main difference in the medication is that The Substance allows a younger, more perfect version of a person to emerge, splitting the user into two separate entities. Meanwhile, the injection in “The Beauty” transforms the consumer from the inside out.”
Capitalism is typically where the rot begins in society, as is true in the world of “The Beauty.” The mastermind behind this virus of perfection is a maniacal Elon Musk-type figure who has dubbed himself The Corporation (Ashton Kutcher). Fixated on amassing even more wealth, The Corporation obsesses over monetizing his “miracle drug” turned STI at any cost. His weapon of choice is The Assassin (Anthony Ramos), a hired hit man deployed to quell any investigations into the new biotech before they start. Kusher is perfectly cast in the role, mirroring the mannerisms and obsessions of our real-life trillionaires and billionaires. Meanwhile, in Indianapolis, basement dweller Jeremy (Jeremy Pope, oddly miscast for the role) descends further and further into the black hole of incel culture when he accidentally stumbles upon a lifeline.
“The Beauty” is a ton of fun until it isn’t. The build-up of the first several episodes spans everything from a secret romance to The Corporation’s detailed backstory. The body horror depicted in the 11-episode first season is a sight to behold, from botched facelifts to the varied beauty births, the season is drowning in blood, guts, vomit and an abundance of other unseemly bodily fluids. What’s most visually unnerving is the painful, prolonged transformation people undergo after receiving their shot or catching the virus. It’s so grotesque that viewers possessing weak stomachs will want to look away.
However, by Episode 8, “Beautiful Brothers,” and the umpteenth “beauty birth,” the story splinters into so many varied directions that audiences will likely get whiplash trying to keep up. Though the side stories showcased are, of course, relevant to the central narrative, they would be better reserved for later seasons of “The Beauty,” allowing the story to expand naturally, rather than continuing on a ride that should have ended hours ago.
Murphy is known for camp, drama and over-the-top satire, but Episode 8 is also when “The Beauty” completely stops taking itself seriously. After getting a hold of the beauty shot, one non-Black character randomly transforms into a Black man. In explanation, the character’s father declares that he is 5% Nigerian. This moment begins the show’s downward spiral into the absurd. Additionally, though the cast is multi-racial, there is no true commentary about the white beauty standards illustrated here. As a non-white viewer, seeing those who have been deemed conventionally attractive or ideal is always interesting to unpack, but it’s never addressed here. Instead, it is skirted around, with a throwaway line on race.
Still, despite its mishaps and chaotic one-liners, “The Beauty” is a mostly enjoyable watch. Ranging from 24 to 50 minutes, the 11 episodes are highly engaging and digestible. It’s a series that dares to say a lot, while exploring the thrills of pretty privilege and the perils of beauty as a commodity, all amid the rise of GLP-1 use, social media addiction and a rampant lack of sexual education in America. Viewers will need to prepare themselves for this wild and imperfect journey, but they won’t walk away regretful.
The first three episodes of “The Beauty” are now streaming on Hulu and FX, with the remaining episodes streaming weekly on Wednesdays.
