THE STUFF (1985)

The rampant consumerism and unrestrained capitalism that defined Ronald Reagan’s 1980s presidency offered a rich ideological canvas for horror filmmakers eager to critique the excesses of his era. While Reagan’s administration championed free markets, deregulation, and individual enterprise, the horror genre responded with a far more damning portrayal of a nation hollowed out by its own appetite for processed commodities.

George A. Romero established the tone by turning the shopping mall into a mausoleum of mindless consumerism. The legacy of Dawn of the Dead (1978) reverberated through a wave of similarly themed works that reimagined commerce as a site of existential dread. Sidney Lumet’s Network (1976), Tommy Lee Wallace’s Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982), and Thom Eberhardt’s Night of the Comet (1984) all explored the insidious power of media and society’s blind allegiance to corporate spectacle. It was within this cultural milieu that Larry Cohen emerged with a gleefully absurdist satire that turned the language of advertising against itself. The Stuff operates with the brash confidence of a midnight movie but is a biting indictment of a nation so hungry for mass consumption it will literally devour itself.

When a curious white substance begins to bubble mysteriously from the ground at a remote industrial site, a hapless worker samples it and is instantly seduced by its otherworldly taste. Without questioning the origin of the mysterious oddity, it’s quickly repackaged and marketed as a dessert called ‘The Stuff’. With its alluring flavour and zero-calorie promise, The Stuff swiftly seduces the public and becomes a national obsession. However, beneath its creamy exterior lies something far more insidious.

As consumers grow disturbingly dependent and mindlessly addicted to the dessert, former FBI industrial saboteur turned freelance investigator, David “Mo” Rutherford (Michael Moriarty), is hired by a rival food conglomerate to uncover the truth behind the enigmatic product. After teaming up with Nicole (Andrea Marcovicci), a conflicted advertising executive once responsible for the dessert’s rise to ubiquity, Rutherford’s investigation leads him down a twisted path of government complicity, marketing manipulation, and corporate amorality. During their quest to expose the truth, the pair encounter increasing resistance from corporate enforcers, brainwashed citizens, and the chilling realisation that ‘The Stuff’ doesn’t just satisfy cravings… it takes control.

The entire ensemble exhibits a striking level of commitment to the outlandish material, but it’s Michael Moriarty (Pale Rider) who effortlessly ascends above the chaos. Inhabiting the role of corporate saboteur David “Mo” Rutherford, the actor delivers a delightfully eccentric performance that can only be described as sublimely deranged. As a former FBI agent employed to infiltrate the secretive company that distributes the insidious dessert, the character could have easily been monotonous. However, Moriarty transforms it into something entirely his own by infusing the character with a magnetism that’s simultaneously absurd and oddly beguiling. Channelling a similar oddball charm like he did during his first collaboration with Cohen in Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), the actor delivers his lines with a bemused detachment and an improvisational rhythm. His unpredictable Southern drawl and idiosyncratic brand of eccentricity bring a strange but compelling energy to the proceedings. It’s a performance that shouldn’t work in theory, but in practice, it defines the offbeat tone.

As a provocateur of urban satire and a director with an unflinching eye for social critique, Larry Cohen operates within the idiom of genre cinema as a subversive inheritor. His works are not derivative pastiches of those he admires, but rather informed dialogues with them. It’s Alive (1974) was a schlocky satire that combined societal anxiety surrounding parenthood and the dangers of unchecked industrial advancement inspired by Frankenstein (1931). Whereas Q: The Winged Serpent subverted the kaiju formula by transforming urban destruction into a deranged commentary on media sensationalism and bureaucratic exploitation. The Stuff continues this trajectory by condemning advertising manipulation and America’s insatiable appetite for mindless consumption dressed as a creature feature. It draws from the Cold War paranoia of 1950s science fiction, such as William Cameron Menzies’ Invaders from Mars (1953), while channelling the anti-consumerist fervour of Romero’s Dawn of the Dead.

The parallels between The Stuff and They Live (1988) are inescapable, despite preceding John Carpenter’s seminal classic by three years. The two share a similar jaundiced perspective of the grotesque machinery of advertising and society’s susceptibility to corporate manipulation. Yet, rather than plastering the landscape with commands including ‘OBEY’ and ‘CONSUME’, Cohen’s strategy is markedly different as he weaponises the aesthetic of commercial advertising.

Throughout the 90-minute runtime, he sporadically scatters deliberately insincere advertisements that hilariously expose consumer culture’s nihilistic addiction to consumption as long as it’s perfectly packaged. The fabricated commercials are brimming with exaggerated colours, glamorous models, and catchy slogans (“Enough is never enough”), parodying the disingenuous marketing techniques employed by corporations to prey on desire, conformity, and instant gratification. These moments are audaciously unsubtle and would eventually be adopted by Paul Verhoeven for RoboCop (1987) and Starship Troopers (1997). Cohen’s pointed critique on marketing manipulation and mindless consumption may appear outdated when viewed through a contemporary lens. However, in an age where society cheerfully submits to algorithmically tailored addictions from processed food to social media dopamine loops, The Stuff remains alarmingly prescient four decades later.

Unfortunately, once the allegorical backbone has been removed, The Stuff quickly collapses under the weight of its own unchecked ambition. As Rutherford delves deeper into the nefarious origins and distribution of the titular substance, Cohen’s screenplay spirals into an increasingly tangled web of corporate espionage, government theatrics, and domestic conditioning. What initially functions as sharp satire quickly devolves into a series of manically inconsistent threads tenuously held together by sheer eccentricity.

A minor subplot introduced without the necessary groundwork is Colonel Spears’ reactionary military assault on the eponymous item’s production factories during the third act. His anti-communist rhetoric and fixation on societal decline could have deepened the political commentary and provided some emotional stakes. However, the character’s sudden introduction feels more like a perfunctory spectacle rather than an organic development. New World Pictures reportedly demanded extensive edits to speed up the runtime, and it can be felt in the meandering momentum and disjointed structure.

It would be an understatement to suggest The Stuff is a cacophonous symphony of consumerist satire and hasty plot devices wrapped in campy absurdity. Yet, it’s difficult not to be charmed by David Allen’s (The Howling) delightfully grotesque SFX. Crudely brought to life through a combination of puppetry, animatronics, and reverse stop-motion animation, Cohen strikes a careful balance between body horror and cartoonish spectacle as the titular dessert oozes and bubbles into a sentient force. There are several moments when torsos implode under unseen pressure, jaws are wrenched open, and faces burst like overripe fruit. A particularly macabre highlight involving a character being violently consumed from the inside out while being dragged up a wall and across the ceiling is a spectacular collision of technical achievement and camp horror inspired by Wes Craven’s A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984). Admittedly, the sequence looks undeniably primitive when compared to the groundbreaking practical effects showcased in Carpenter’s The Thing (1981). However, in its own ghastly way, it’s strangely mesmerising.

The Stuff may not be as irresistible as the product it focuses on, but it’s often wryly humorous and still remains relevant after four decades since its release. Larry Cohen’s critique of corporate malfeasance and consumer culture offers a playful yet pointed commentary reminiscent of The Blob (1958) and They Live. However, the narrative scope feels overextended, introducing more characters and subplots than it fully develops. Regardless, its visual inventiveness and cultural commentary ensure its lasting appeal as a cult classic amongst horror enthusiasts.

USA | 1985 | 87 MINUTES | 1:85:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Limited Edition 4K Ultra HD Blu-ray Special Features:

Showcasing a wonderful 2160p Ultra HD transfer, The Stuff has received a marvellous 4K restoration courtesy of Arrow Video. This two-disc set contains the truncated Theatrical Cut and an exclusive restoration of the pre-edited version, which is essentially Larry Cohen’s original vision before New World Pictures imposed some alterations. Both transfers are presented in their original aspect ratio of 1.85:1 and have been sourced from the original 35mm camera negative.

While this latest release may not represent a groundbreaking leap beyond Arrow’s previous Blu-ray release, the image appears more organic than the 2014 presentation. The inclusion of Dolby Vision HDR is a particularly welcome addition, enriching the image with heightened colour vibrancy and providing an appreciable boost in contrast and brightness balance. Nuanced colours that require natural tones, such as facial complexions, are accurately reproduced, whereas pastels of The Stuff’s marketing colour scheme look wonderful. The image is deceptively sharp and contains an excellent amount of clarity with rendering that draws out plenty of delineation. Individual clothing textures look beautifully dimensional, and fine hair remains sharp throughout.

Arrow Video has provided each 4K UHD disc with one standard audio track. Both the Theatrical Cut and pre-edited version are presented in DTS-HD Master Audio 1.0 mono with optional English subtitles. This presentation sounds natural with no sudden spikes or drops in dynamic intensity to report. Dialogue remains consistent and is dispersed primarily at the front. Anthony Guefen’s (Deadly Eyes) subtle electronic score spreads itself evenly across the front soundstage, heightening the atmosphere during key moments. Supporting sound effects of the titular dessert oozing are spread evenly through the rear channels, and the occasional explosion utilises the bass.

Disc 1—Theatrical Version

• Brand new 4K restoration by Arrow Films from the original camera negative.
• 4K (2160p) UHD Blu-ray presentation in Dolby Vision (HDR10 compatible).
• Original lossless English 1.0 mono audio.
• Optional English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing.
•  Brand new audio commentary by writers and critics David Flint and Adrian Smith.
• Archival audio commentary by writer/director Larry Cohen.
• 42nd Street Memories: The Rise and Fall of America’s Most Notorious Street.
•  Can’t Get Enough of The Stuff: Making Larry Cohen’s Classic Creature Feature.
•  Enough is Never Enough.
• Trailers & Image gallery.
  

Disc 2—Pre-release Version

• An early, pre-release cut of the film featuring over 30 minutes of additional footage and a different music score, exclusively remastered by Arrow Films.
•  High Definition Blu-ray™ (1080p) presentation.
•  Original lossless English 1.0 mono audio.
•  Optional English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing.

Cast & Crew

writer & director: Larry Cohen.
starring: Michael Moriarty, Andrea Marcovicci, Garret Morris, Paul Sorvino, Danny Aiello, Patrick O’Neal & Alexander Scourby.