★★★★☆
The Substance (2024) is taking the internet, film aficionados, and practical effects enthusiasts (like myself) by storm. Coralie Fargeat’s sophomore directorial debut follows former Hollywood it-girl turned aerobics instructor Elisabeth Sparkle (played by Demi Moore), as her creepy boss fires her on her 50th birthday.
After she’s given an address to a mysterious laboratory, she encounters a specialized package containing “The Substance” – a neon green liquid that once injected, promises a “better” version of yourself. The catch: you must respect the balance – each body gets seven days to live their collective lives.
While much of the controversy surrounding the film lies in its elements of body horror, some of it stems from the messaging being “too obvious.” The film has the subtlety of a sledgehammer, it beats you over the head with its clear satirization of how women are treated in Hollywood as they age. It leaves no room for speculation – which doesn’t have to be a bad thing.
At the end of the day, while this movie obviously isn’t written with any practical realism in mind, losing the pursuit of eternal youth is a terrifying truth for most women in the modern age. Especially set against the cultural relevance and rise of Ozempic, Botox, and a slew of anti-aging product placements flooding TikTok.
The Privilege of Short Sightedness
A big theme throughout the film is the idea of “one-ness” that The Substance emphasizes between the matrix (the original) and the “other self” (the younger version). Many people walk away from the film assuming that Elisabeth (Moore) and Sue (played by Maragaret Qualley) do not share a conscience, due to their clear disdain for each other when swapping bodies – but this simply is not true.
Sue (Qualley) serves as the short-sighted, early 20s version of yourself that is actively “stealing” from your older self. This version of yourself cannot conceptualize how your current decisions will impact your future self – you don’t know them yet, and acknowledging that there will be consequences means actively taking responsibility for your choices.
It’s a lot easier to be ignorant to these things, especially when societal standards remind you that “anything worth doing, is only worth doing young.” Therefore, you perceive your life as “over” before 30, before it’s really been lived. Although Sue may be perceived as villainous for this selfishness, it’s easy to also feel empathy for her – as with most characters in this movie, she serves as a mirror for the worst parts of ourselves, in this case, she’s vanity, and selfishness.
Alternatively, Elisabeth (Moore) represents the resentment that one feels for their younger selves as they age, as they are actively living through the consequences. As she continues to live her life as Sue (the “best” version of herself), she is actively draining the life out of her matrix body, with little thought to the consequences that may arise. Yet, she reacts to the horrors she inflicts on her own body (Elisabeth rapidly ages, as she’s continually drained), as if she is not responsible for this demise. You are your experiences, and you are nothing without your former actions.
Self-Loathing and Analyzation
Elisabeth has essentially sold her soul for a chance at her (or, the modern woman’s) version of happiness – the false pursuit of eternal youth, in favor of a cruel patriarchy. Her self-loathing is a direct consequence of said patriarchy – emphasizing the societal pressures assigned to women at birth to maintain their youth and beauty, and contributing to the shortness of a woman’s “prime” in Hollywood. Demi Moore effortlessly explores the crippling anxiety of the progression of womanhood, where your self-worth is dependent on a flawless exterior.
Elisabeth’s bathroom is visually a sterile, white, lifeless environment – a space where constantly critiques and picks apart her exterior.
When given a chance to go on a date, she continuously applies, wipes off, and reapplies makeup in a mirror. It repeats until she inevitably compares herself to Sue’s body (lying comatose in the bathroom beside her) – her supple lips, her un-creased skin – and begins to hit her face, smearing her makeup off. Her insecurities and shame are thrust into the foreground, self-sabotaging herself before she even has a chance to leave, and distancing herself even further from her true self.
Now onto Sue. Her introduction scene is almost just as essential. Once Sue physically bursts from Elisabeth’s body, the camera lingers on her fully nude body in a way that’s extremely uncomfortable. It’s almost disgusting, objectifying her, resulting in gratuitous sexualization that masquerades as liberation – but isn’t that the whole point?
Existing as a woman is a prison, so much so that even the fantasy version of yourself is completely dehumanized. The men in this movie – although infrequent – are a vehicle for a modern society failing to accept women as whole, complete people. While Elisabeth serves as a consequence of society’s devaluation of women over 30, Sue serves as a young woman who’s objectification is not only inevitable, but for profit.
There are a million more things I could say about this film. The commentary, while it isn’t anything too profound or new, is essential in big-box media. And although it can be a bit heavy-handed, I believe The Substance will continue to make big waves for both feminist and horror media alike.
Words by Ky Tanella
Graphic by Evan Skovronsky