In the new Ryan Murphy horror thriller “The Beauty,” an intriguing premise unfolds as a mysterious virus grants its hosts astonishing physical transformations overnight. Men awaken with sculpted muscles, enviable abs, and striking jawlines, while women emerge youthful and impeccably attractive, reminiscent of Disney princesses. The biotech executive Byron Forst, played by Ashton Kutcher, markets this pathogen as “The Beauty,” describing it as an “injectable Instagram filter.” However, this transformation comes at a dire cost: these newfound supermodel appearances have a fleeting shelf life of just two years before they spontaneously combust from their own heightened attractiveness.
The series, airing on FX, draws loosely from a graphic novel created by Jeremy Haun and Jason A. Hurley, exploring the social dynamics surrounding beauty standards in the age of GLP-1 weight-loss medications like Ozempic and Mounjaro. This timely context evokes pressing societal anxieties, particularly regarding the pressures of appearance and the perceived shortcuts to desirability. With a tagline proclaiming, “One shot makes you hot,” the show cleverly engages with contemporary discussions on body image and cosmetic enhancement.
As a reflection of our current beauty discourse, exacerbated by the popularity of weight-loss drugs, “The Beauty” emerges at a moment when societal norms about body image are transforming. Once-celebrated body positivity seems overshadowed by a resurgence in the desirability of thinner physiques. Murphy’s exploration of this shift both critiques and engages with the evolving standards of beauty, evoking past narratives like “Nip/Tuck” that scrutinize the complex relationship between identity and physical appearance.
The show dives into the ramifications of a culture fixated on superficial ideals, taking aim at both the wealthy users of these beauty-enhancing drugs and the broader implications for society. Celebrities embody this phenomenon, with a poignant satire reflected in a scene where musician Meghan Trainor, who previously celebrated body diversity, faces backlash after adopting a slimmer look. The brutality of the transformations depicted in the series highlights the grotesque lengths individuals go to for societal acceptance, as characters experience physical harm from their pursuits of beauty.
Beyond merely critiquing societal vanity, “The Beauty” also highlights the struggles of marginalized groups, particularly alienated young men, exemplified by the character Jeremy, portrayed initially by Jaquel Spivey and later transformed by Jeremy Pope. He navigates his insecurities and optimistic desires for connection through the lens of the transformations offered by the virus, drawing a poignant comparison to the cultural moment anchored around the drug’s allure.
The narrative evolves, revealing how the demand for The Beauty outstrips its regulated availability, reminiscent of real-life issues seen with popular medications like Ozempic. The storytelling gains depth as it contrasts the experiences of affluent clients with those of less privileged individuals, highlighting varying degrees of access to this pursuit of an ideal appearance.
While the show features an array of cameo appearances, it is Kutcher’s performance that stands out as he navigates the morally ambiguous territory of the biotech CEO seeking profits amid a crisis sparked by his product. The blend of shocking moments and dark humor is indicative of Murphy’s style, as he aims to engage viewers through dramatic twists and commentary.
Despite the series sometimes succumbing to a lack of cohesion, it reflects an important commentary on the constant evolution of beauty standards and societal pressures. Even in a chaotic narrative, “The Beauty” contributes to the ongoing conversation surrounding identity, self-image, and cultural values in a visually driven society. With its exploration of motivations and consequences, the show encapsulates the complexities of modern beauty culture while employing entertainment as a lens for broader societal critique.