‘Shell’: A Deeply Unserious Horror With Style And No ‘Substance’

Stylish, campy, and deeply unserious, Shell dazzles before revealing there’s little beneath its sheen.

Once-beloved sitcom star Samantha Lake (Elisabeth Moss) is desperate for a comeback. After industry pressure and an awkward date derailed by psoriasis, she enters the radiant world of wellness mogul Zoe Shannon (Kate Hudson). At her Shell clinic, a mysterious surgery, powered by shellfish enzymes, promises eternal youth but hides a bizarre, grotesque secret.

Directed by Max Minghella, Shell leans heavily into early ‘80s sci-fi horror aesthetics and melodrama, a high-budget homage to made-for-TV horror. Its retro future dreamscape, complete with self-driving taxis, chunky landlines, and wrist-worn phones, feels fully realised.

All sheen and no scream

Every frame radiates with artificial glow, mirroring the film’s obsession with appearance.

Even disturbing sequences—like Sam discovering her dinner’s prepared from Zoe’s “nutritious” skin—are shot with care, turning horror into something almost hypnotic. Stylistically alone, it’s hard to look away as much as you might want to.

The film opens with an eerie scene: a distraught woman in her bathtub, armed with a knife and scraping off a mushroom-like scab from her leg. It’s the kind of gag-worthy scene that hints at more body-horror thrills, which the film rarely follows through on.

The thrill factor barely begins until nearly 40 minutes in, and the build-up is flat, cheesy, and boring rather than engaging.

Minghella’s concept is ripe with potential, echoing Death Becomes Her and John Waters’ classics, teasing biting satire on the commodification of beauty, and the nightmare of being a woman in a youth-obsessive culture.

But the film never fully lands. Brief, cliched monologues hint at meaning, yet moments that could shock or unsettle are quickly brushed aside, leaving the film feeling timid, uneven and oddly paced.

Moss and Hudson sell what Shell can’t

Moss inhabits Sam with trademark intensity: sardonic, vulnerable, and observant. She balances the film, navigating awkward saunas and bizarre findings with nuance, as hard as it is.

Hudson is brilliantly cast as Zoe, a Goop-esque goddess shifting between smizing hostess to quietly menacing CEO.

Their chemistry, as unlikely friends who eventually turn, sells far better than the material itself and hints at what could’ve been. But even their efforts can’t rescue the story from feeling hollow.

Supporting players Dr. Hubert (Arian Moyaed) briefly ground the film as the clinic surgeon, while Lydia (Este Haim), Sam’s assistant, brings some comic relief.

Beyond them, most minor characters are deeply forgettable, underscoring the film’s focus on style over substance.

Tonally, Shell can’t decide if it’s black comedy or horror, leaving both elements undercooked. Long stretches of buildup and immaculate lighting lead to an abrupt lobster-infused creature-feature climax (yes, you read that right), that feels unearned and strangely predictable.

The film skims themes of ageing, female rivalry, and celebrity culture without ever puncturing the surface.

I hate to pit two wildly different queens against each other, but The Substance handled similar themes with sharper teeth, messier horror, and a genuine willingness to go all the way in terms of grotesque absurdity.

Shell is glossy and campy at best, even mildly entertaining at points, but the film largely frustrates and misses opportunities to fully explore its intrigue.

Still, the sets and practical effects deserve praise, and the cast clearly commits despite a weak narrative. For Tubi streamers and anyone who enjoys a “good-bad” movie night, there’s enough fleeting laughs, cringe-worthy moments and maybe even something to marvel over.

Ultimately, Shell is a B-movie with a budget that mistakes sheen for substance.

★★

Shell is in cinemas now.