I was watching an episode of a podcast where two women in their 30s spill their hot takes and frustrations about the world, drawing from their lived experiences as young women. The guest of this particular episode was a content creator in her 20s. Together, the three of them embodied the epitome of conventional feminine beauty—Gen Z girls would likely die to look anything like them. Ironically, in the episode, they converse about beauty procedures that they want to be done to their face and body. Two thoughts: I like that there is a public discussion about the feelings of bodily dissatisfaction. But also how sad that is the reality for so many women, a heinous apple dropped from the tree of society, that does not stop tempting us.
How many times do you look at your body in the mirror? I can't keep count. We look at ourselves all the time—during those Zoom meetings, while doing our skincare routine, in the front camera, and, of course, in that little Instagram story we love to post. In this AI-driven era of chronically online youth, we're constantly staring at ourselves and others on small screens where anything and everything can be manipulated, including bodies. These virtual life and physical societal influences often bleed into each other, taking the forms of Ozempic, botox and other medical alterations.
Coralie Fargeat, the writer, director, editor, and producer of The Substance, felt similarly until she decided not to. After the mild success of her horror film Revenge, Fargeat was offered many projects, including Black Widow. However, she chose to decline them because she wanted full control over her work, something big studios weren't willing to offer. Years later, her determination materialized in The Substance. The film not only earned Demi Moore a Golden Globe Award, Critics' Choice Award, and Screen Actors Guild Award, but it was also nominated for five Oscars.
Demi Moore plays Elizabeth Sparkle, a 50-year-old woman who kicked off her star fitness show because she’s no longer considered desirable enough. Having earned a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and been an Oscar-winning actress, she has spent her life in the spotlight. But now, we watch her stardom fade, just like her Walk of Fame star—weathered by the passing seasons, showing cracks, and eventually ruined when someone drops a burger on it, unnoticed and neglected. ‘After 50, it stops,’ says Dennis Quaid's character, an annoying, profit-driven producer named Harvey, whose name seems to be a pointed reference to the disgraced producer Harvey Weinstein. Sparkle lives alone in her sprawling, dollhouse-like home, which feels disconnected from reality. Her home seems artificial. The hallway is long, and the checkered bathroom seems too unblemished.
The film showcases a captivating set design, featuring striking, unblemished colors like orange, blue, white, and green, which evoke a haunting sense of the world Sparkle inhabits. The environment intentionally appears artificially constructed, flawless yet eerily distorted, creating a surreal version of reality. The scenes are adorned with images, billboards, posters, frames, and mirrors, adding to the discomfort of the setting. This unsettling world reflects Sparkle’s unease with her own body, as society stops validating her once she begins to age. In a desperate attempt to regain that validation, she turns to a black-market drug, which spawns a younger version of herself by tearing through her back. Enter Sue, a Frankenstein-like creation with a conventionally perfect body, leading to a narrative echoing Mary Shelley’s classic tale. When Sue arrives, the lens wears the suit of male gaze. Her shiny new body is objectified with countless butt shots. Margaret Qualley wears breast prosthetics and dons barbie outfits to showcase the perfect body image that men devour and women want the recipe. The rules are clear: Sparkle must return to her original body after exactly seven days to maintain the ‘balance’ of the arrangement.
A woman in the public eye is a strange phenomena. Once, you are one of the top scorers on the board of fame with everybody laying their eyes are on you and uncountable projects begging for invincible hand. Suddenly, after reaching a certain age, typically in your 50s, you are no longer seen. All eyes are taken away from you. You are visually removed from everywhere whereas men of your age go on to play lead roles alongside 20-year actresses. In such an environment, we of course breed women who will have the desire to preserve their youth because they will be left alone without it. Fargeat shows us the extent that women can go to terrorise their body to fit societal expectations, a pattern that seems to be impossible to escape. This is the horror that body has to go through.
Many scenes in The Substance use mirrors to highlight the intense self-reflection we undergo regarding our bodies. One particularly moving scene, which has resonated with many women, shows Elizabeth preparing for a date but unable to leave the house because she feels she doesn't look good enough. She fixes her hair, reapplies her lipstick, but her self-loathing is so deep that no amount of makeup can give her the confidence to step outside. The reflection in the doorknob halts her, whispering that she isn’t worthy of going out with the face she sees. Elizabeth lives out the horrifying fates of characters like Dorian Gray and Frankenstein, battling her own alter ego in a desperate attempt to preserve what is slowly slipping away.
The amount of grossness in this film is beyond understanding from the start of the movie. Every angle feels eerie if it doesn’t arouse a feeling of disgust—Sue sewing Elisabeth’s body to monstrous blood and flesh that we see in the end. Even food in the film does not look tempting. As Sue wins the hearts of the world, we see Elisabeth rotting in kitchen with chicken bones and egg shells. Food has been interestingly used in the film to determine women’s relationship with diet. Food is the only thing that satisfies Elisabeth’s decomposing body when all her life she must have been kept away from it to maintain a skinny body. But all the blood and decomposition in the film is not scarier than the producer Harvey’s wide angle lens close ups invading our screens along with artificially unblemished interiors.
The Substance is one of the most divisive films of the year. Many argue that it objectifies women, undermining the very message it tries to convey, while others consider it a disturbing masterpiece that exaggerates the harsh realities of our world. Regardless of where you stand, one thing is clear: it’s not an easy watch if you aren’t one of those gross horror lover lunatic. But if you’ve ever have felt a fibre of self-hatred, interested in our mad pursuits of beauty and Margaret Qualley’s male gazed butt shots, this film is might become your favourite film even if you hated watching it.
Words Paridhi Badgotri
Date 14.03.2025