In the era of Ozempic, Botox and normalized surgical procedures, what magical potion will be next? That question is answered in Ryan Murphy’s new FX/Hulu body horror series The Beauty, about an experimental jab that promises complete aesthetic perfection. And it might have just predicted a dystopian future. Based on a comic book of the same name, the series follows two FBI agents as they investigate the spread of a mysterious sexually transmitted contagion that’s making people either A) explode into pieces, leaving behind only an oozing pool of guts or B) regenerate into a ludicrously hotter version of themselves.
When injected with The Beauty, patients emerge with chiseled jawlines, collagen-filled cheekbones, large sparkly eyes, perky bottoms and ripped abs; an archetype of Western beauty standards. There’s Jeremy (played by Jaquel Spivey and later Jeremy Pope), an isolated, depressed incel, who turns to surgery in his quest to look like a Chad and is given the drug instead. His bones crack. Steam rises from his skin. But he survives, hatching into an unrecognizable new man.
For all intents and purposes, this show is a chilling satire on the beauty industry and the lengths we will go to achieve perfection. There is plenty to be enjoyed and believed: Isabella Rosselini as the eccentrically dressed wife to Ashton Kutcher’s tech mogul, Anthony Ramos as a one-eyed villain, plus a brilliant episode about a clandestine network of billionaires who have exclusive first access to the drug. It's a real shame, though, that in trying to criticize modern beauty standards, The Beauty relies on us ignoring the sheer irony of its guest star casting. Representing the results of the beautifying drug are none other than real-life supermodel Bella Hadid and heiress Nicola Peltz Beckham (talk about timing?). Hadid opens the series strutting down a catwalk in Paris, before becoming possessed by the side effects of The Beauty and disintegrating. Meanwhile, without giving too much away, Peltz crops up at the end of the series as a yassified – much younger and conventionally hotter – version of another character post-injection, looking as if she’s been plucked from one of her latest Instagram pictures.
Now, I don’t know about you, but intentionally casting some of the most beautiful women in Hollywood in a show satirizing the very standard of beauty they represent sends some very mixed messages. The Beauty tells its audience to be cautious of what the beauty industry is selling, and of the rich and powerful people who exploit normal people (particularly young girls) who will do almost anything to achieve that hegemonic Instagram face. And while I don’t have anything against Peltz and Hadid — and both do a great job in the show — there’s no denying that these familiar faces are part of a culture that sets the very standard of how we should look, through Instagram posts to their millions of followers, makeup tutorials and their famous skincare routines. After all, beauty trends begin in Hollywood before the rest of us try to catch up. If The Beauty is suggesting that the trending aesthetic dogma — poisonous ideals that make many feel unworthy – are simply unattainable, then how does this shiny guest cast serve the entire point of the show?
Some moments in The Beauty do feel real, eerily so. Later on in the series, high schoolers scramble to get their hands on the drug. These boys and girls might be young, but they’ve already been told they’re not good enough. In real life, it’s not so far from the truth: teenage girls as young as 16 are getting lip fillers and more. There is also a particularly omnipresent injectable that reached the mass market only recently; restaurants have introduced smaller dishes aimed at people with reduced appetites on weight loss drugs, Mounjaro or Wegovy.
Given how things are panning out in real-life, it’s not unfathomable that people would spend their life savings on a one-off injection that completely transforms their appearance. This series should be a forewarning. But when Peltz’s character delivers her passionate monologue about resisting beauty standards, I can’t help but wonder if The Beauty was playing me all along.
