Writer-director Coralie Fargeat’s second feature, The Substance, presents a harrowing body-horror satire that incisively explores the psychological violence inflicted upon the female body. The commentary on ageism and toxic beauty standards is told by way of Demi Moore’s character, Elisabeth Sparkle. The film opens on the installation of Elisabeth’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame—she was a lauded actress turned network TV jazzercise coach—followed by a relentless timelapse of years of being walked over and cracking at the seams. Not a minute after the star celebrates her 50th birthday, the brash and sleazy studio head—aptly named Harvey (Dennis Quaid)—fires her from her show. The grizzled, yellow-toothed, large-pored man in charge insists that Elisabeth is a dried up old hag who needs to step aside for a younger, hotter, tighter new star.
Aged out of the only industry she’s ever known, Elisabeth is destitute and pathless. Just in time to sever the metaphorical noose around her neck, an opportunity arises for Elisabeth to try a mysterious off-market new drug, called THE SUBSTANCE. The brat-summer-green elixir promises a cellular duplication of the best version of yourself—only one injection away from a looksmaxxed replica to take your place. Enter Sue (Margaret Qualley)—the younger, hotter, tighter Sparkle.
The seemingly ideal drug is not without a catch, and comes with strict rules to follow to ensure success. Time is the main constraint, it needs to be split evenly—one week on as Sue, one week on as Elisabeth, no exceptions. This perfect balance should be easy enough to maintain, right? What ensues is a deluge of bodily gore that all the adjectives in the world couldn’t begin to describe. Elisabeth’s quest for self-esteem transforms her into the ugliest monster the screen has witnessed since The Thing (1982).
Fargeat set out to create an in-your-face satire about the horrors of existing as a woman. The scrutiny, fetishization, and objectification faced by simply living in a female body and the impact it has on one’s own worth. The creature that is bred by striving for perfection is a physical manifestation of Elisabeth’s inner critic. What she becomes just reflects what she already thinks of herself—wretched and undesirable. There’s not an ounce of subtlety in the use of gore, because the world isn’t subtle about their hatred of women.
The film’s message is crystal-clear, with Fargeat opting out of any nuance in her storytelling—maybe to her detriment. As a lurid and nauseating body-horror, it outshines its contemporaries. As a satire, it hits those absurdist highs and has incredibly funny moments. But from the statements made by Fargeat, her intentions with The Substance were far more political. The film’s themes lack the radical edge to spark a real sense of revolution, or even a mild shift in perspective.
Qualley’s portrayal of Sue is transfixing, and let’s be real—she looks unbelievably hot. Moore gives a performance that will forever be listed as one of her career-defining moments. Quaid plays the abhorrent producer Harvey perfectly. All the technical aspects of the film are undeniably great—the production design, score, and composition are at a ten. The nauseating practical effects and prosthetic evolution from woman to creature is so shocking and gross you will surely be skipping the popcorn. Everything in a film can be perfect, but if your script is shallower than a pond, it fails to leave an impact. Overall, The Substance is definitely worth a watch (not for the faint of heart), but it’s forced my hand to point out the obvious and fatal flaw… it missing the one thing you’d expect—substance.