good.film
5 months ago
For a film that’s laser-focused on the human body, it’s gloriously on point that The Substance begins with a freshly cracked, bright yellow egg yolk. Eggs are the ‘giver of life’, right? They’re the origin of all of us. Gleaming and plump, the yolk suddenly gets pricked – not by a fork, but a syringe.
Injected with a garish green goo, the yolk quivers, pulses, then… doubles. Like embryonic twins, one egg has magically become two. That’s the first juicy visual metaphor of many in this meaningfully bonkers body horror, for which French filmmaker Coralie Fargeat picked up the prestigious Best Screenplay prize at this year’s Cannes Film Festival.
To call the film ‘bold’ is a weapons-grade understatement. It’s an audacious, jaw-dropping examination of what screens & billboards demand of women (especially as they age), and how laughably impossible it is to meet those demands. Well, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry. We’ve got a hunch Fargeat wants us to do both.
Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) has been a Hollywood star for decades. Oscar winner. Glamour icon. And the face and body of her own uber-successful TV-aerobics empire. Think Jane Fonda in her 1980s heyday and you’re close. But the key phrase there? “Has been.”
Now that she’s hit 50 (or more?), what Sparkle sees in the mirror has changed. She still looks outrageously fit in spandex, but the reality of her ageing face and body aren’t what network execs want on their screens. When Elisabeth overhears her boss saying as much, she knows her on-camera days are numbered. So when she discovers a highly exclusive new beauty product called “The Substance”, the timing hits Elisabeth at her most vulnerable.
Have you ever dreamt of a better version of yourself? You – only better in every way. You’ve got to try this new product. It’s called The Substance. It generates another you. A younger, more beautiful, more perfect you. There’s only one rule: You share time. One week for you. One week for the new you. A perfect balance. If you respect the balance… what could possibly go wrong?
As you can probably guess, a LOT goes wrong. Like a modern-day Picture of Dorian Gray,
Fargeat uses her setup – who WOULDN’T want to look 25 again? – to take us somewhere horrifying. The Substance leans HARD into the body horror genre to examine beauty standards, the media-inflicted pressure to maintain them, and the monstrous greed and narcissism that can come as a result. And yes, we do mean “monstrous”...
Right from the kick-off, Fargeat doesn’t exactly bury her message in subtext. Before we meet Elisabeth, we see an emblem of her cultural impact: her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Fargeat’s camera stays fixed on Elisabeth’s star; as the time passes, it goes from shiny & new to weatherbeaten and stained. Her star literally cracks and fades.
It’s important that we see Elisabeth as a confident woman who rejects “The Substance” when she first learns about it (she throws the details into the trash). She’s not irredeemably vain, but she’s bound by an inescapable reality: her livelihood hinges on her appearance. While that’s not true for everyone, The Substance is definitely intent on exploring the pressurizing factors that exist for all women which can gradually erode self-confidence. By making her lead character an on-screen star, it allows Fargeat to play with preconceived notions of ageing in more extreme ways.
Alone in her palatial home, Elisabeth sees a newspaper ad (how old school!) for auditions to replace her. The age range is 18-30, and something in her snaps – what was that Substance? She sifts through her trash and calls the number, which directs her to a scummy alley littered with garbage and graffiti. That Elisabeth practically gets down on her knees to crawl through the low doorway shows she's desperate to cling onto her identity – without her looks, she has no career. It’s her Alice in Wonderland moment, and she's heading down the rabbit hole.
“The Substance is a film about women’s bodies. About how women’s bodies are scrutinized, fantasized about, criticized in the public space. Fantasized versions of ourselves [are] always beautiful. And thin. And young. And sexy. And if we step out of those boxes, then society tells us: you're done. We don't want to see you anymore. And this movie is saying, it's about time to blow all this up.”
~ Writer/Director Coralie Fargeat
Here’s where you need to remember that The Substance is a science-fiction fantasy. Like the yellow egg yolk at the film’s beginning, Elisabeth injects herself with a green fluid that creates an entirely new, younger, flawless version of herself from her own body (more on that wild scene later). They’re both Elisabeth, just in different bodies – and while her younger version is awake, Elisabeth’s real body is comatose. They get a week each in the world, then switch.
That premise gives Fargeat the opportunity to directly examine how many doors swing open for youth and beauty – and contrast that with how they’re slammed shut if you’ve committed the mortal sin of growing older. Ooh, let’s not forget the infuriating irony that the slamming is usually done by even older men! So while Elisabeth’s young version “Sue” (played by Margaret Qualley) quickly applies for, and gets, her old TV job – essentially, replacing herself – Elisabeth confronts some disturbing truths when she wakes up back in her old familiar body.
Like how Elisabeth can’t settle on her outfit and makeup when she’s getting ready for a date. She keeps adding and removing, tweaking and re-doing, making touches that don’t work. She doesn’t like what she sees – after a week spent as Sue, she's comparing herself to someone half her age and nothing's good enough. It speaks to the spiral of body dysmorphia; one that’s more prevalent in the age of social media than ever.
Later, Elisabeth bumps into a mystery man who recognises they have something in common. He’s been using the Substance too (making the point that vanity and a lust for flawlessness aren’t exclusively female traits). He identifies with the mental anguish that Elisabeth’s feeling, flip-flopping between “perfection” and reality. “It gets lonelier each time. Don't you think?” the man asks her. And then, the killer line: “It gets harder each time to remember that this part of yourself exists. That you're worth something.”
Ah, let us count the ways! If you’re not across it, “the male gaze” is a term coined by feminist film scholar Laura Mulvey back in 1975, who theorised that by showing women through the eyes of straight men (and turning them into objects of desire), it makes it harder for female characters to be seen as fully developed people.
From the pulsing score to the leering camerawork, Fargeat’s bold style deliciously, and often hilariously, skewers this soft-core sexualisation of the female form that’s been the mainstay of male-driven media for decades. In her sparkling pink leotard, Sue's new aerobics show is aggressively hypersexual. Zero subtlety here: as the studio cameras zoom in tight and linger too long on Sue’s glossy lips, her boobs & bum, and her exaggerated winks to the audience, Fargeat makes us complicit in the audience’s hunger to ogle “fresh meat”.
To put a bow on the metaphor, Fargeat uses the same shots again when, after taping, Sue cracks open an ice-cold Diet Coke. Aahhh… if it wasn’t so sarcastic, it’d be a product placement moment for the ages! Now, there’s no longer a separation between how Sue looks on camera and when she’s relaxing at home. In a commercial world, her body has literally become a commodity.
“We've been told for so long to control and hold back. Let's do the exact opposite. Leaning all the way into the excess, I want to free my inner monster. Because I don't know any stronger weapon than satire to show the world the absurdity of its own rules. This is what this movie is about in the end. A liberation. An empowerment.”
~ Writer/Director Coralie Fargeat
Fargeat and cinematographer Benjamin Kracun use their camera to make a wider statement on male behaviour too, like when Elisabeth has a lunch meeting with her network boss Harvey (played slimily by Dennis Quaid). Exhibit A: the extreme close-up on Harvey’s wrinkled mouth as he devours a fistful of prawns, tearing into their juicy flesh with a grin. It’s easy to read that Harvey represents Hollywood (hey, the name alone…) and the plump pink prawns are wannabe starlets, waiting to be gobbled up. Even Harvey’s wine features a fly thrashing on the surface – another creature lured in and drowned by Hollywood excess.
As a jab at the gender and power imbalance of the entertainment industry, it’s an oily display that feels more 1980s than 2024 – one that might have you asking, hang on, haven’t we made at least a little progress from this? In a Gen Z world, aren’t these boomer dinosaurs extinct yet? Didn’t #MeToo change anything – or was it all just talk?
The answer isn't black and white. Yes, the #MeToo awakening HAS led to significant changes in the entertainment industry, particularly in Hollywood – from increased accountability and changes in hiring practices, to institutional reforms. But while that’s great, there’s still a boatload of work to be done to achieve true gender equity. Fargeat is screaming at us that, for the most part, this industry that relies on how women look is still run by older, greyer men. For them, collapsing looks and a senior’s card doesn't rob them of power – just the opposite.
Queasy stomach? Here’s the bit you’ll probably want to skip – but not because it’s outright gory. Unlike typical gore, “body horror” is a sub-genre in film that’s more concerned with a body making a transformation into something grotesque. This almost always includes three factors: a loss of control for the character, who experiences a psychological disturbance as a result, and plenty of visceral imagery to hit us right in the feels. And Fargeat makes sure she ticks off every single one.
We feel the full impact when Elisabeth “gives birth” to Sue: by being split lengthways down her spine. When Sue emerges – like she’s unzipping a sleeping bag – it’s her job to stitch Elisabeth up again. It’s a deliberate choice to distance us from the “mother and child” connotations of a vaginal birth. Plus, as any horror fan knows, it’s far more disturbing to feel (but not see) a creature emerge from behind you…
While Elisabeth’s body is on the bathroom floor, glassy-eyed and bleeding, her consciousness stares into the mirror through Sue’s eyes. Standing tall and naked, she’s gazing in wonder at the new body she now inhabits: decades younger; smoother, lighter and tighter. For Elisabeth, it’s a stunning reinvention. The price, of course, has yet to be paid.
“Genre films are political. For me as a filmmaker, they are a great way to confront political and personal matters through the lens of entertainment, fun, and excess. So I decided to write this film to make a political statement to the world: we should be done with this shit.”
~ Writer/Director Coralie Fargeat
In one scene, dressed in a full leather catsuit, Sue’s energy hits us as something close to robotic. When she decides that Elisabeth, in her comatose state, needs to be moved to another room, she drags her naked body along the floor with the impassive ease of a female Terminator. Sue’s taking charge of “their” life – and Elisabeth’s losing her power to stop her.
That’s rammed home when Sue bends the rules just a teeeeny bit. Remember the rule? You share time. One week for you. One week for the new you. If you respect the balance… what could possibly go wrong? Sue’s becoming SO successful as a model and TV host that, to fit in all the gigs, she overstays “her turn” just a tad. When she reawakens, Elisabeth is mortified to discover that parts of her body have aged instantly – like the life’s been sucked out of her. As the voice on the phone puts it, “What is taken by one, is lost by the other.”
It’s a horrifying concept – so Fargeat really goes for broke. Without spoiling what comes next, The Substance uses a fusion of prosthetic effects, sound effects and wince-inducing camera angles to render Elisabeth & Sue as two of body horror’s most unforgettable anti-heroines. It’s like a female The Fly, and we’ve never seen anything quite like it. By the explosive finale, The Substance climbs a peak that’s so extreme, there was only one sentence we could scribble in our notes to describe it: “This movie is f***ing awesome.”
“The Substance is the work of a filmmaker with a vision. She’s got something primal to say to us.”
- Owen Gleiberman, Variety
“Moore imbues her character with a visceral desperation, one that enriches the unsettling undercurrents of Fargeat’s film.”
- Lovia Gyarkye, Hollywood Reporter
“It’s the casting of Moore, and her willingness to denude herself at 61 – emotionally, as well as physically – that gives The Substance a startling connection with its themes.”
- Tim Robey, Daily Telegraph
By the film’s finale, Elisabeth Sparkle (or what’s left of her) comes full circle to find a very twisted kind of peace, and we feel it too. In contrast to Hollywood’s fake stars, Fargeat allows us a glimpse at the night sky, full of twinkling real ones. After what we’ve just seen, it’s as refreshing a palate-cleanser as lemon sorbet.
So here’s your fair warning, as if you need it at this point: there is nothing subtle about The Substance. Themes aside, it would actually make a brilliant companion piece to Challengers (the audacious choices of which we wrote about here). Having said that, there weren’t any geysers of blood or exposed spinal columns on the tennis court. Frenchwoman Fargeat is furious, and if you’re in the wrong frame of mind, her second feature could be viewed as deliberately titillating and wildly OTT.
But we’d argue, aren’t those the exact qualities that get stories seen and talked about? Would The Fly have even made a dent in the zeitgeist if Jeff Goldblum – acting under 5 hours of prosthetic makeup – didn’t become a horrifying man-insect hybrid before our eyes? Would The Shining still be talked about today without its extreme angles and disturbing images of wizened crones, blood-red bathroom walls and murderous elevators?
If you thought a feminist movie like, say, the provocative and morally-murky Promising Young Woman was “a bit much”, then this IS NOT the cinema experience for you. But on the other hand, if you felt (like others did) that the anger within Promising Young Woman was more lukewarm than white-hot, The Substance may well be your savage salve.
Want a great deal to catch The Substance in cinemas?
GRAB YOUR DOUBLE PASS DEAL HERE!