The Substance: A Gruesome Dive into Satirical Body Horror
Coralie Fargeat, who made a name for herself with the intense thriller Revenge back in 2017, brings us something that cranks up the volume on gore—let's call it death metal or maybe just injury metal. What we get here is a delightfully absurd and unapologetically over-the-top body-horror comedy, devoid of any subtlety, body positivity, or really any positivity at all. You can bet Roger Corman would have been a fan. It’s definitely got its flaws and feels a bit stretched out, but Demi Moore's casting is a standout highlight—she really leans into the ridiculousness. As a piece of confrontational satire, it holds its ground against, if not surpasses, some previous Palme d’Or winners like Julia Ducournau’s Titane and Ruben Östlund’s Triangle of Sadness.
The Substance is a gruesome fantasy-parable that dives into misogyny and the objectification of bodies. It channels that wild, dysfunctional vibe reminiscent of Roger Vadim and Jane Fonda, with some nods to the works of Frankenheimer and Cronenberg. It paints a picture of how successful women in media and public life often have to keep their older, less appealing selves locked away. This isn't just a forgotten Dorian Gray-style portrait; it’s a constant struggle that demands attention. Fargeat builds a compelling narrative around a grotesque media executive named Harvey, who embodies the fears women have regarding the passage of time and the judgment of their younger and older selves.
In the film, Moore plays Elisabeth Sparkle, a former Hollywood darling who now finds herself in the fitness game, presenting a home workout show that feels straight out of the 80s with its leotards and leg warmers. One day, after a taping, she discovers the ladies' room is closed, leading her to tentatively enter an empty men’s room. It’s hard for movie characters to step into a restroom without overhearing something awful about their careers, and Elisabeth is no exception. There’s Harvey, portrayed by Dennis Quaid, who is just cartoonishly dreadful as he discusses her impending contract termination while using the toilet.
Devastated, Elisabeth goes to the doctor’s office, where a mysterious young physician hints at a secret, unofficial procedure called the Substance. This procedure allows a brand new, stunningly youthful version of oneself to be extracted from the body—all from the comfort of your luxury apartment. Enter Sue, played by Margaret Qualley, who, despite her eerie perfection, can’t escape the strict rules of the procedure. Her charm and vulnerability win over Elisabeth’s former role, but she has to duck out every other week to let Elisabeth be "alive" again, using the excuse of caring for a “sick mom”—which, in a way, isn't entirely a lie.
Of course, Sue’s almost demonic perfection starts unraveling when she fails to stick to the guidelines. Fargeat doesn’t let us forget the bizarre and objectionable comment from one of the producers grilling an aspiring actress: “Too bad her tits aren’t in the middle of her face.” This foreshadows the madness that awaits, highlighting the film's satirical obsession with breasts.
Ultimately, while the film gets a bit drawn out and ridiculous as it nears the end, Moore perfectly embraces the twisted nature of her character's plight. In all its crass glory—and sure, its lack of serious depth—The Substance feels like it deserves a spot on VHS, perfect for a nostalgic nod to the wild days of home entertainment in video stores. It reminded me of Michael Crichton’s overshadowed 80s thriller Looker featuring Albert Finney as a nefarious plastic surgeon. Fargeat delivers some genuine shocks along the way!
