The Substance: A Grueling Dive into the Abyss of Beauty Standards
Coralie Fargeat’s "The Substance," a body horror film starring Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley, has garnered significant attention, but its critical acclaim feels strangely misplaced. The film, a satire on celebrity beauty standards and aging in Hollywood, clocks in at a punishing 142 minutes, a runtime that exacerbates its pacing issues. The narrative, reminiscent of Robert Zemeckis’s "Death Becomes Her," suffers from a similar flaw: the relentless and often gratuitous punishment of its female protagonists. While ostensibly critiquing the unrealistic expectations placed upon women, the film revels in their suffering, reducing men to caricatures of oblivious sexism. The women become entangled in a vicious cycle of self-destruction, their bodies grotesquely contorted for the audience’s supposed entertainment. This raises a troubling question: is the film a genuine critique or simply a veiled form of torture porn?
The premise itself strains credulity. Demi Moore portrays Elisabeth Sparkle, a fading celebrity clinging to relevance through workout videos. Her sexist boss, Harvey (Dennis Quaid), expresses his desire to replace her with someone younger. While Harvey’s crassness is undeniable, the premise falters because his underlying motivation—seeking a younger face for a morning aerobics show—is arguably valid within the context of the entertainment industry. This sets a shaky foundation for Elisabeth’s subsequent desperation and the outlandish events that follow. The introduction of the "Substance," a mysterious drug promising youthful clones, stretches the narrative into the realm of the absurd. The logistical nightmare of the cloning process, with its DIY surgery and lack of medical oversight, further detracts from the film’s credibility. The film’s internal logic collapses under the weight of its own contrivances.
The central conflict revolves around Elisabeth and her younger clone, Sue, battling for control. The film establishes that their experiences are distinct; they do not share memories or consciousness while the other is in control. This lack of shared experience fuels resentment and ultimately leads to their downfall. The film fumbles its intended message of female solidarity by portraying the women as incapable of cooperation, even with themselves. They become locked in a destructive game of one-upmanship, driven by an internalized misogyny that undermines the film’s supposed feminist critique. The narrative’s focus on their mutual antagonism, rather than their shared plight, diminishes the potential for a meaningful exploration of the pressures they face.
The film’s central question—why take the Substance at all?—remains unanswered. Elisabeth gains nothing from the transformation. She doesn’t experience the benefits of youth and beauty enjoyed by Sue, only the debilitating side effects. The supposed allure of regaining youth and relevance is overshadowed by the physical and psychological toll exacted by the Substance. This fundamental flaw in the premise underscores the film’s overall failure to create a compelling narrative. The allegorical interpretations—generational conflict, the pursuit of youth and beauty—are rendered superficial by the story’s inherent lack of coherence. “The Substance” becomes a hollow exercise in body horror, sacrificing narrative depth for shock value.
The film’s descent into gratuitous violence further undermines its message. Sue’s brutal murder of Elisabeth, a frail and broken version of her former self, is a disturbing spectacle that serves no narrative purpose. It’s a violent act devoid of meaning, showcasing the film’s penchant for punishing its female characters. The subsequent transformation of Sue into a grotesque monster, a consequence of her reckless use of the Substance, pushes the film into the realm of pure spectacle. The creature, a mangled amalgamation of body parts, elicits horror and revulsion, but not empathy. The film loses any semblance of social commentary as it embraces the monstrous and grotesque, leaving the audience with a lingering sense of unease.
"The Substance," despite its initially intriguing premise, ultimately unravels into a chaotic and ultimately meaningless display of body horror. The film’s heavy-handed attempts at satire are overshadowed by its gratuitous violence and illogical narrative choices. The film’s obsession with the female form, both in its idealized and grotesquely distorted representations, highlights its conflicted relationship with the very beauty standards it claims to critique. The visual style, characterized by bold colors, jarring camera angles, and outlandish costumes, adds to the film’s overall sense of artificiality. "The Substance," ironically, lacks the very substance it purports to explore, leaving the audience with little more than a visceral reaction to its gruesome imagery.
The film’s failure lies not only in its convoluted plot but also in its treatment of its characters. The women are reduced to victims, their suffering serving as the film’s primary source of dramatic tension. The men are portrayed as one-dimensional caricatures of sexism, devoid of any complexity or depth. The film’s attempt to critique societal beauty standards is ultimately undermined by its own exploitative gaze, which fixates on the female body in both its idealized and monstrous forms. “The Substance” becomes a cautionary tale of how a promising premise can be squandered by a lack of narrative coherence and a reliance on shock value over genuine exploration of its themes. The film leaves the audience feeling not enlightened, but rather assaulted by its relentless and ultimately empty display of violence and grotesquerie.
