The Substance is a film that skillfully blurs the lines between the reel and the real.
For instance, Demi Moore lost the Oscars’ Best Actress in a Leading Role to a younger, up-and-coming actress, Mikey Madison.
Sounds familiar does it? Much like Moore’s Elisabeth Sparkle losing her TV show to the bedazzling Sue.
A movie script coming to life, at the very moment the industry convenes and celebrates artistry.
The recently concluded Oscars bestowed Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance the prize for Outstanding Makeup and Hairstyling. Almost six months after its theatrical release, the film continues to rack up accolades, with many recognizing Demi Moore’s portrayal of fading star Elisabeth Sparkle.
At its core, The Substance is a body horror film that touches on issues of aging and body dysmorphia. It is a harsh, unflinching but necessary critique against the unwarranted standards set by the industry.
The film follows protagnoist Elisabeth Sparkle as she grapples with her waning stardom. Once a sought out Hollywood superstar, Elisabeth has been relegated to hosting an aerobic fitness show. Amid this crisis, Elisabeth discovers the substance, a serum that promises a younger and better version of herself. She injects it and Sue (Margaret Qualley) emerges from her spine, setting in motion bouts of overindulgence from both characters in the process.
Choosing to deliver her message through a horror lens proved to be successful for Fargeat. Sprinkled throughout the film are hints and homages to classic horror films—showing subtle stylistic nods to Psycho (1960), Carrie (1976), The Shining (1980), The Fly (1986), and Requiem for a Dream (2000). Its unsettling angles and extreme wide shots are accompanied by a throbbing musical score that intensifies the film’s satirical albeit dreadful take on its main themes.
Beyond the extravagant shots and gruesome imagery, The Substance contains layers of commentary and critique on aging and its effects on self-image that grows more visceral and sanguinary as the film progresses.
ELISABETH: THE FACE OF FADING GLORY
Elisabeth refuses to let the spotlight stray away from her. Her name, etched into the walk of fame, has become a cracked, untidy tile, stepped on by passersby.
On her 50th birthday, she is dismissed from the network by her sleazy producer Harvey (Dennis Quaid). Her disappointment with how her standing in the industry diminished as she aged led Elisabeth to the substance. Desperation overcomes her hesitation as Elisabeth travels to an abandoned location to obtain the black market drug.
A neon green-colored liquid, the substance provides its users a literal out of body experience. The matrix births a younger, more perfect version of the user as long as its rules are strictly adhered to. Users must switch back weekly and the activator must only be used once.
For the first few weeks, Elisabeth abides by these rules without fail, but grows rather discontent with the isolation when she is her old self.
There are several long shots of Elisabeth staring at herself in the mirror, and these are the moments that symbolize her self-hatred and discontentment. There are no dialogues nor noise.
Elisabeth’s inner disdain culminates in a scene where she goes back-and-forth between observing Sue’s billboard advertisement and wiping her makeup in front of the mirror, evidently getting more dissatisfied as she repeats the process. It is in that scene where she forgets that they are one. That Elisabeth is, technically, envious of her other self–that the matrix has allowed its offspring to separate entirely from her.
Central to The Substance is its two-hour demonstration of the male gaze. Throughout the film, both Elisabeth and Sue cater and conform to Harvey and the network’s inherently sexist demands. This is what pressures both women to maintain their shape and style.
Satisfying the male gaze becomes the prime antecedent in Elisabeth’s indulgence and addiction to the substance. For every other week, the aging Elisabeth turns into the nubile Sue. Harvey immediately hires and lets Sue lead a new show.
As the indulgence continues, Elizabeth and Sue’s supposed detachment becomes more pronounced. Despite being warned that they are one, both of them begin to loathe one another. Elisabeth wallows and lingers in isolation as Sue enjoys and thrives in the superficial limelight.
SUE: THE PRICE OF YOUTH
Sue, much like Elisabeth, is able to construct her persona entirely based on what is prescribed to her by the industry and its consumers. When she receives continuous validation from those around her, that is when Sue develops animosity for Elisabeth, whom she sees as a nuisance to her momentum as they have to switch every seven days.
As the film progresses, Sue’s meteoric rise within the industry becomes evident. It is made clear that in the industry, three cardinal rules exist for a female celebrity to thrive in the spotlight: be sexy, flirty, and young—standards dictated by men, for men. Conformity is the name of the game and a man is the one who lays out the rules.
Cinematography-wise, this is where The Substance takes a shot in satirizing the male gaze by showing excessive and prolonged shots of Sue’s body, which unsettles the viewers by showing too much.
But that is what the male gaze is–so excessive that it becomes intrusive.
MONSTRO ELISASUE: THE FAME MONSTER
The Substance finishes edging its audience with a literal release of visceral components of the body: blood, flesh, and fluid—the very same thing that both tried their best to take care of in the first place.
Monstro Elisasue, the monstrous and deformed integration of Elisabeth and Sue, becomes the consequence of conformity addiction. Interestingly, Monstro Elisasue is rather neglectful of its appearance and oblivious of the audience’s terror. It is at this point where an addict has hit rock bottom.
Monstro Elisasue is a literal accumulation of skin, breasts, lips, and butts—a byproduct of the male gaze. Figuratively, it is the accumulation of Elisabeth’s, and by extension, Sue’s pent-up desperation for lasting stardom amidst fleeting audience demand.
As the chaos subsides, Elisabeth’s gooey residue makes its way to her walk of fame plaque, hinting at contentment and acceptance but perhaps brought by delusion, as she hallucinates sparkling confetti raining from the sky to fall unto her. And sadly enough, even in her last moments, it is still fame–not self-acceptance–that Elisabeth longs for.
The Substance is scary because it can be real. The desperate pursuit of fame turns someone into a literal monster. While The Substance takes advantage of artistic exaggeration, the film’s themes remain disturbingly realistic. Somewhere in the real world, there exists an aging celebrity or a hopeful influencer, forced to lose themselves to sustain fame amidst the changing times.
With The Substance laying bare the brutal consequences of trying to keep up with society’s unattainable beauty standards, do you still dream of that “better version” of yourself?
