“The Substance,” directed by Coralie Fargeat, exposes the desperate unease and sense of inadequacy society instills in women. The film takes its viewers on a wild ride of internal reflection and bizarre symbolism. It follows a washed out actress, Elizabeth, who is fired from her fitness show because of her age. With a desire to gain back her youth and everything she lost because of it, she decides to consume “the substance”: a green liquid that essentially divides a person into two, the duplicate being the “best” (physical) version of the original.
Alone, its opening scenes are enough to incite generous reflection on duplicity, identity, and the nature of washed-out stars and celebrities. For example, in the second frame of the film, we see a sequence depicting the rise and fall of a Hollywood star. As the star takes shape, the audience comes to understand it as our heroine, Elizabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore). The state of this star depends on the attitude of the people that pass by it. Passersby treat the star with respect, but as time passes, they begin to step on it unknowingly, preoccupied with the bustle of their own lives.
In effect, this sequence functions as an allegory of how celebrity relevance is at the mercy of the public. This star literally represents the superficial love that Elizabeth clings onto. It is the driving force of this film, and provides enough emotional context for Elizabeth’s deprecating life. This film traps its audience in vibrant bodily imagery, and highlights Elizabeth’s intense self-hatred, exposing the importance of uplifting, loving relationships.
Through focusing on audience preferences, “The Substance” explores fatphobia and ageism in the film industry. It employs cuts and zooms in shots on various body parts of characters, creating tones of disgust. It enlightens our senses and forces squeamishness and discomfort.
In other words, it actively opens us to absorb the scene’s obscenity. With intimate shots of wedged objects hidden in flesh and repulsive sounds of ripping skin, it uses the human body as a weapon against its viewers. The body becomes a tool of constant discomfort and angst.
Ultimately, as Elizabeth’s self-hatred grows, the film examines closely what the body really is: buried physical desires. By pushing the boundaries of what the viewers can stomach, skin, bone, blood, and flesh become a language for exploration. We become the very audience that the film blatantly critiques. We are forced to accept that we, the audience, have directly aided an ageist industry. The heightened sounds in the film, the ASMR-like audio, engages our senses in full force, creating no possible chance of escape. It is gory, beastly horror, as even though we see it coming, we dread every second.
The world in “The Substance” is drastically misogynistic. It’s a representation of our reality, full of self-loathing and inability to create lasting relationships. The desire for a young body stems from a woman’s eagerness to thrive in a predominantly masculine institution. Society objectifies and consumes women within its hegemonic libido-driven male gaze.
Though stunningly beautiful, Elizabeth, in her 50s, still struggles with accepting her current body. She stares at her naked image, lusting after a younger version of herself. Her tragic tale ends in a disturbing sequence where she succumbs to a physical and mental breakdown. In a frenzied state, Elizabeth makes plans with Fred (Edward Hamilton-Clark), a former highschool classmate with obvious affection for her. Fred embodies longing for someone who can drive away constant internal contempt and dissatisfaction. His presence is comforting, and urges us to be content with what we have.
As Elizabeth gets ready for her date with Fred, she constantly checks her reflection, comparing herself to Sue (Margaret Qualley). She is unable to escape her insecurities and make a decision that propels her life forward. A happy future flashes before the audience’s eyes and devastatingly dissolves. This scene invokes a sense of despair for the final rabbit hole of physical deterioration that subsequently occurs.
As the film progresses, we see a vicious cycle where Elizabeth’s desire to be admired by a mass audience destroys her identity. This gives her no other choice than to rely on her “perfect” duplicate, Sue, for the life she has always wanted for herself. But by destroying the original, Sue consequently begins her own deterioration by pushing her limits and eventually creating a third copy, Monstro Elisasue. In the end, the already deformed Elizabeth, Monstro Elisasue, longs to return to her original state. Ironically the body that once drove her to change is the body she wishes to reclaim.
“The Substance” is an intimate exploration of identity depicting the tragic transformation of a heroine we grow to love–and later mourn. The film forces us to examine our own selfish attachment to admiration, but it also explores the importance of being loved and perceived. The lack of support and love Elizabeth received is what led to her downfall. Consider, for Elizabeth, if Fred’s adoration preceded her self-hatred, maybe she would have been able to love herself. If Elizabeth had a friend or a mother who offered encouragement, the spitting words of her grey-haired producer would not have as much influence on her mental state. External appreciation influences our inclination for self-love. If Elizabeth was surrounded by words of affirmation and acceptance, would she have ever considered mutilating her body?
