Imagine if Stanley Kubrick, David Cronenberg, Darren Aronofsky and Gaspar Noe collaborated on a film. If they did, it might look something like Coralie Fargeat’s extraordinary The Substance, a film that blends multiple elements both familiar and innovative into something truly unique and utterly unforgettable.
To unpack the (inevitably) reductive comparison, The Substance features spaces reminiscent of Kubrick, body horror that would make Cronenberg (both David and Brandon) weep, mind-fuckery at least on a par with “Requiem for a Dream” or “mother!,” and an aggressive, confrontational and mesmerizing style akin to that of “Irréversible” and “Climax.” The Substance could be regarded as “Fight Club” for women, due to its focus on the body, social expectations and identity. It also works as “Sunset Boulevard” for a new generation, as it deals with issues of aging and stardom, is set in Hollywood, and focuses upon a star past a certain age. This star is Elisabeth Sparkle, played by a never-better Demi Moore (“Corporate Animals”). After an initial close-up of egg yolks receiving an injection, we are treated to a prolonged overhead shot of Elisabeth’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, from its initial laying to the path of her career, which plays out on the star. From premieres to foot passage to street cleaning to the dropping of garbage, and some significant cracks, the star sees so much, as does the actual Elisabeth. Past her movie star days and now the lead of a TV exercise show, Elisabeth is informed by producer Harvey (a magnificently obnoxious Dennis Quaid, “The Intruder”) that the network wants someone younger. Initially distraught and feeling understandably rejected, Elisabeth then discovers a new (you guessed it) substance that will turn things around.
To give more details would be to spoil the film, for The Substance is a film where the viewer benefits from knowing as little as possible. Suffice to say that the eponymous product provides Elisabeth and the viewer with far more than they bargained for. The UK premiere of The Substance took place at FrightFest 2024, to an audience of hardened (or jaded) horror film fans. The atmosphere during the screening was one of shock, elation and bewilderment, with discussions afterwards largely related to WTF?! At two hours and twenty minutes, the film could run the risk of overstaying its welcome, but Fargeat’s pacing is superbly linked to the threads of investigation and discovery, success and ambition, desperation and hubris. Much of the film takes place indoors, especially in Elisabeth’s grand apartment. The expansive living room, dominated by a portrait of Elisabeth in her prime (consider that term critically), as well as the inner sanctum of an impeccably white-tiled bathroom, is meticulously designed by Stanislas Reydellet to express wealth and privilege, as well as isolation, security and even secrecy, all of which escalate within the plot of Elisabeth’s troubles.
Escalation is also expressed by the bodies of the film. Moore (at the age of 62) reveals all in a way that is refreshing and encouraging. Too often female bodies are objectified in cinema, both as objects of desire and, for those deemed to be “past it,” of ridicule and even disgust. To see the naked body of a woman over 40, let alone over 60, on screen is a rare sight indeed. For this body to treated sympathetically is even rarer. It would be overly simplistic to say that the film presents the bodies of Demi Moore, as well as Margaret Qualley (“The Vanishing of Sidney Hall”) who also bares all, sympathetically simply because the director is a woman. More significantly, the gaze of the film is that of Elisabeth herself, appearing on screen when the character herself inspects it. Therefore, we are invited to share her feelings about the way she looks, while the film also mediates these feelings through a lens that is critical not of Elisabeth herself, but of the context in which her body and identity have developed, a context encapsulated by that stunning opening. Elisabeth is presented as a participant, a beneficiary, a product, and a victim of Hollywood specifically and western patriarchal capitalism more generally, valued and judged because of her adherence to expectations. The film consistently and mercilessly satirizes these expectations, with moments of recognition, non-recognition, behavioral alignment, types of imaging, different levels of consumption and the use of substances all brought together in a gloriously grotesque grand guignol. There are moments in The Substance that may cause jaws to drop and eyes to pop, as the instances of body horror are pushed far beyond expectations or even hopes and fears. Just when you think “OK, that’s the limit,” Fargeat pushes the sequence (and physicality) that little bit further.
Intertwined with this grotesquerie is jet black humor, Fargeat and her cast willing to be utterly absurd as well as commendably revolting. It could be said that this is a form of misogyny, because the aging woman’s body is presented as repulsive, but notably the body horror is closely tied to the titular substance, a product that serves wider misogyny. Thus, the film becomes a treatise on the abuse of women’s bodies, abuse that is a manifestation of patriarchal demands. Much like (arguably) Lars Von Triers’ “Antichrist” and “The House That Jack Built,” The Substance presents misogyny, rather than endorsing it.
The cast are wonderfully game for this madcap journey. As mentioned, Moore is at her absolute peak, conveying regret, ambition, self-loathing, desperation and a deep melancholia. Quaid is an absolute hoot, making himself as thoroughly punchable as his character’s namesake suggests. Margaret Qualley presents a youthful version of ambition, no less ruthless and even vicious. These three, especially Moore and Qualley, dominate the proceedings, with other figures only appearing briefly. This further helps in keeping the viewer engaged with Elisabeth, as we see and share her experiences through elaborate spaces, pained bodies, fragmenting minds and breathtaking style. Also, as previously stated, The Substance echoes various other films and directors, but when it comes to pushing your conceit to its extremes in a way that is engaging, entertaining, shocking and ingenious all at once, Coralie Fargeat could teach many filmmakers a thing or two.
