Your life is given validation by how people see you, or so we’ve been told. Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance examines that dilemma in painstaking detail. It’s a satirical yet tragic romp full of star power while centering itself on its own in-universe star: Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore). Sparkle is a world-famous and award winning actor while also doubling as a fitness influencer. However, she’s in the twilight of her career, and her best days may be behind her. The powerful men in her life come to this conclusion first, as they seem way too eager to broom her ass out the door like an unwanted patron at an upscale establishment. At least let her leave with dignity, fellas.
But after a critical doctor’s visit, she’s made aware of an opportunity to live a much younger life, if she takes a concoction that will create a de-aged clone of the star (Margaret Qualley). This is foreshadowed in the movie’s opening shot – an egg yolk is injected with a strange serum, causing the organism to duplicate. Later, Fargeat focuses her camera on a couple of frying eggs in a pan, signifying the chaos that comes from these two entities having to co-exist. That’s because once Sparkle begins consuming the product, she must agree to split equal time with her younger twin – one week in hibernation as the other body gets to live out in the world, and the two are expected to switch places after each week. Sounds like a great idea to render yourself unconscious while your “other half” makes all the decisions. Surely nothing can go wrong there!
Fargeat, who made her directorial debut with the violent thriller Revenge (2017), has a visual style that bathes in vibrant, lush colors paired with excellent framing and timely POV perspectives. The Substance is eye-popping in this regard, but Fargeat’s images are designed to convey thematic progression, rather than just eye-candy. Much of this visual language is used for comedic effect, especially through the lens of schadenfreude, but there’s also a tragic irony to the movie’s pathos. The film is about the psychology of celebrity, including how women operate in that system and how their form is utilized for commerce.
Sue (Qualley) adapts to the effects that her youthful visage has on the power brokers of Hollywood, quickly taking over Sparkle’s fitness show. She’s an overnight star, a rise fueled solely by sexual exhibition. This is exemplary of women’s fears in Hollywood, as many of them have expressed that there aren’t an abundance of adequate roles for women over a certain age. As a male actor, it’s expected that you can extend your years as a star much further into your life, existing as a leading man in big projects well into your 50s and 60s. For women, their experience is that their star fades quicker, as Hollywood continuously makes room for younger actors, leading their older counterparts to be replaced or repurposed quickly as moms, aunts, and background characters. Both genders must conform to some level of sexual exploitation, a gaze that’s meant to appeal to targeted demographics. But the roles for women lean much further into this dynamic, relying more heavily on their designated roles as sex symbols.
Sue doesn’t give much thought to her privilege, distracted by the attention and fame it can bring her. The film shines a critical light on the men in the story, most notably Dennis Quaid in a deliberately hammy role as a money-hungry exec who Fargeat quickly frames as greedy and selfish. One of his first scenes involves him arrogantly devouring a plate of seafood, while still trying to carry a conversation, the visual signifier of his character made quite clear. We see that visual storytelling further in action, as we learn his productions appeal to the lowest common denominator of shallow ‘bod’ worship. Sue fits the mold he wants perfectly – she’s slim, BUT NOT TOO SLIM! She’s a bit curvaceous and muscular, BUT NOT TOO BIG! This leads to Fargeat mocking the male gaze, showcasing Qualley in a parade of invasive and revealing close ups, as Sue gyrates and works her hips/glutes/pelvis to the benefit of horny viewers dedicated fitness junkies.
What ties together this absurdist dark comedy is that the performances are quite authentic, elevating the material. Demi Moore is doing some of her best work in years, a bold performance that often subverts her 90s persona of a star willing to tantalize a sex-crazed audience. Here, the nudity is much more personal and self-conscious. At times, her character writhes on the floor in agony, an emergence of the pain that is often hidden behind the veneer of sexual exuberance. The film is very much a willing entrant into the body-horror canon, with a primary influence being the works of David Cronenberg. This is where the film’s makeup and special effects can take center stage, offering ghastly, but often hilarious imagery.
If there’s anything that limits the film, is that it is almost certainly too long. Clocking in at 140 minutes, and you feel every bit of that runtime, some scenes go on for quite a while, and a few points & themes are belabored. It comes down to the fact that while there is a great deal of subtext in the script, the actual plot isn’t incredibly dense or requiring such elongated examination – you get a lot of the points quite quickly. That combined with such a dark and at times depressing tone, I imagine it won’t inspire hordes of people to re-watch it frequently. Despite this, the movie is still quite good and captivating. Qualley, still growing as a performer, has a very physical role that at times takes away from showcasing her acting chops. But she makes up for this by often conveying her performance simply through her eyes and facial expressions, even as her dialogue is often limited.
Yet, there’s still something to be said for how the messenging of the movie is executed and if the satiric nature of its story is worth indulging in the very images that the narrative criticizes. Is subversion pointless if it isn’t changing unfortunate aspects of a social structure? It’s a debatable point, but I don’t believe that whoever showed up solely to see Margaret Qualley be half-naked, for most of her screentime, are going to be swayed by a message monologue. The film is challenging in the sense that it leaves it up to the viewer to not just consume these images but consider their purpose and place in a wider system of human capital. Which means that you can land on the side that suggests this movie is ultimately harmful or that there’s some value in examining social hierarchies in this lens – even if those hierarchies don’t appear close to being realigned. That choice is yours.
The symbolism at the center of the film’s design is intriguing and open to multiple interpretations. The manufacturers of the titular ‘Substance’ hammer home that once taken, the host and the “clone” must act as one because they are one, not two individual people. This lends the story to be inclusive of body dysmorphia in its themes. Sue soon becomes the public face of what used to be Elisabeth Sparkle’s persona, while the decaying Elisabeth is shunned behind closed doors. Perhaps that’s indicative of unrealistic body images in media and how even the actual people who are on display in those images often do not resemble those images in their own real life. Much of it is a façade, an illusion designed to appeal to your desires and wish fulfillment, in the name of demanding your attention and extracting money. The Substance succeeds in communicating that point, honing the spotlight on realities that are prevalent, incredibly graphic, and very close to home.
