A fading celebrity decides to use a black-market drug, a cell-replicating substance that temporarily creates a younger, better version of herself.
Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance is an audacious dive into psychological horror, blending grotesque body transformations with biting social commentary. Running at 140 minutes, this slow-burning nightmare unravels Hollywood's obsession with youth and beauty, making it a disturbingly poignant satire on the entertainment industry’s toxic standards.
The film stars Demi Moore as Elisabeth Sparkle, a once-glamorous celebrity whose entire identity is wrapped up in the admiration of men and the adoration of the public. At 62, Moore portrays Elisabeth’s desperate struggle against the inevitable effects of ageing with fearless intensity. The casting is an ironic and poignant choice, given Moore’s own history as a sex symbol in the 80s and 90s. Her performance strikes deep as she grapples with a fading relevance that reflects the reality many ageing actresses face in Hollywood.
Moore is joined by Margaret Qualley, who plays Sue, the younger version of Elisabeth. Sue is everything Elisabeth used to be—youthful, radiant, and ambitious. As the two versions of Elisabeth share the screen, the film exposes the toxic pressures women face to retain their physical allure. Moore and Qualley both deliver bold performances, with Qualley bringing an infectious energy as the seductive and ruthlessly ambitious Sue. This duality of characters creates a tense dynamic that drives the film’s unsettling narrative.
At its core, The Substance is a darkly satirical critique of Hollywood’s treatment of women. Dennis Quaid portrays Harvey, a sleazy and manipulative character whose name clearly alludes to the notorious Harvey Weinstein. His presence reinforces the film's commentary on the patriarchal system that objectifies women, valuing them solely for their appearance. The film's first half leans heavily into this satire, showing Elisabeth's slow unravelling as she struggles to keep pace with an industry that worships youth.
As the story unfolds, Elisabeth resorts to increasingly extreme measures to preserve her youthful appearance, leading to some of the most disturbing body horror scenes seen in recent cinema. Fargeat’s use of practical effects and prosthetics enhances the film’s visceral impact, crafting moments of grotesque transformation that are equal parts shocking and mesmerizing. It’s a masterclass in pushing the limits of horror without losing sight of the film’s thematic depth.
Fargeat's direction is both bold and uncompromising. The visual style of The Substance is striking, with lurid colors, surreal camera angles, and close-up shots that reveal every wrinkle and imperfection on Elisabeth’s aging body. Benjamin Kracun’s cinematography captures this duality, juxtaposing Elisabeth's fading beauty against Sue’s flawless youth. This emphasis on physical details serves as a pointed critique of the unrealistic standards imposed on women, particularly in the entertainment industry.
The horror elements reach a fever pitch in the film’s third act, where Fargeat truly lets loose. The final scenes are filled with grotesque imagery and unsettling body transformations, pushing the viewer’s tolerance to the edge. Yet, the horror is not without purpose—each shocking moment reinforces the film’s message about the dangers of idolizing youth and rejecting the natural ageing process. The relentless pursuit of perfection leads Elisabeth into a nightmarish descent, culminating in a third act that is as horrifying as it is unforgettable.
Moore’s performance is central to the film’s emotional weight. She brings a raw vulnerability to Elisabeth, drawing on her years of experience in Hollywood to deliver a performance that is deeply personal. The pain, anger, and desperation she expresses resonate far beyond the screen, making Elisabeth’s journey both tragic and relatable. Qualley’s portrayal of Sue, meanwhile, captures the darker side of ambition, embodying the youthful arrogance that comes with being the industry’s latest darling.
What makes The Substance stand out in the crowded horror genre is its willingness to tackle complex issues with a fearless approach. Fargeat doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of aging in Hollywood, but instead confronts them head-on. Her feminist perspective offers a powerful critique of the male gaze and the impossible beauty standards that women are forced to uphold. By blending horror with social commentary, Fargeat creates a film that is as thought-provoking as it is disturbing.
The film's sound design further amplifies the discomfort, turning ordinary sounds into instruments of horror. From the nauseating squelch of medical procedures to the grotesque noises of characters devouring food, every auditory detail is designed to unsettle. The film’s oppressive atmosphere is enhanced by its synth-heavy score, which heightens the tension throughout.
Yet, despite its shocking content and disturbing visuals, The Substance offers moments of biting humour. The film’s satirical tone often veers into the absurd, poking fun at the ridiculous lengths people will go to preserve their youth. This blend of dark humour and horror makes the film an engaging, if not entirely comfortable, viewing experience.
The Substance serves as a damning indictment of Hollywood’s obsession with youth and the way it discards women who no longer fit its narrow standards of beauty. Fargeat's direction is unapologetically bold, and her critique of the entertainment industry is sharp and unrelenting. While the film’s grotesque imagery may not be for the faint-hearted, it is a powerful exploration of the pressures placed on women to conform to unrealistic ideals.
In a genre often dominated by male perspectives, The Substance stands out as a feminist body horror masterpiece. Its fearless performances, bold direction, and thought-provoking themes make it a film that will linger in the minds of viewers long after the credits roll.
The Substance is in NZ cinemas from September 19, 2024