Movies: The Substance

The topic of female beauty standards and aging is nothing new and a film tackling the concept certainly isn't, but The Substance takes an interesting approach to reckon with it.

So much is going on in this movie and whilst this doesn't necessarily make it perfect, it is able to both evoke conversation and entertain.

Coralie Fargeat's previous film Revenge was much a pre-cursor to The Substance in its subject matter and presentation, in this instance the plot revolving around rape revenge, with excessive violence and use of blood. You also see similarities in the set design, with decadent interiors, colourful pallets and quick shots of bodily repair, with a feminist theme encapsulating some of a woman's worst fears.

The Substance is a wild ride, giving you a lot to think about, whilst leaving you wondering if what you just watched really happened. Aesthetically, there are some noticeable homages in the filming techniques and elements of the supernatural to that of Stanley Kubrick's The Shining and 2001: A Space Odyssey, as well as a nod to plot points of Stephen King's Carrie.

The film focusses on actress Elizabeth Sparkle, played by Demi Moore, whose swift biopic at the beginning shows her career peak in the 1980s to her present day role as a television fitness personality, where she is being discarded from the industry for daring to be in her 50s. Unable to deal with this sudden exile, she ends up in a car accident and whilst in hospital is essentially scouted to be a candidate for The Substance. Not so much an age defying, or reversing product, but an obscure new technique for remaining youthful, beautiful, relevant and desirable.

Unlike a magical potion causing you to de-age like in Death Becomes Her, or vampirically devouring youth like in The Neon Demon, The Substance combines modern technology, abuse of science and the black market to create a DIY product for self replication.

Neatly packaged, with minimal branding and little instruction, the smell of desperation fills the air when Elizabeth receives the dubious treatment and without much hesitation, begins a process of injecting herself with a luminous toxin, swiftly duplicating her, but as a younger and tighter version. Only neither body can exist at the same time - because they are one. Instead, each version is given a seven day period to live, alternating without exception, with whichever version isn't functioning being supplemented with liquid sustenance, whilst the replica remains active on daily shots of Elizabeth's spinal fluid.

The body horror involved only adds to the questionable means and lengths people would go to for a miracle solution to problems concerning their physical self. With the current weight loss fad of Ozempic and concerns about its use, it isn't difficult to imagine that if it were available, people wouldn't give The Substance a second thought.

Obviously this is an extreme representation of body modification, with elements of science fiction and exaggerated attitudes of beauty and ageism. Neither is it necessarily body modification, but torturous body mutation, where Elizabeth's duplicate expels out of her back grotesquely like something right out of the film Society, or Freddy Kruger breaking through the body of his victim in A Nightmare on Elm Street 2.

Nonetheless, The Substance grapples with lingering cultural views that insist the people on our screens making money and influencing us remain perfect, flawless, young and able, though they are inevitably, humanly flawed.

Yet both sides of the coin show pain and torture are inescapable, no matter what option you take.

The real driving force behind this demand comes from the male, middle aged, network executive Harvey, played by Dennis Quaid. He holds all the strings and his letting go of Elizabeth and subsequent hiring of Sue (Elizabeth's replica), played by Margaret Qualley, is done with all the internal fears women may be holding inside, verbally expressed without a hint of awareness, or sensitivity.

The film isn't without its nod to male insecurities. There is the old acquaintance of Elizabeth's, who genuinely seems to still adore her (a sobering moment for her to know she's not completely unwanted); the weasely, socially awkward neighbour who, try as he might, knows he could never be in Sue's league; and the older, prophetic Substance user Elizabeth encounters in a diner, who is having the life drained out of him by his younger version.

One particular point brought up here concerns loneliness. When Elizabeth is active, her days are spent in front of the television, pigging out and watching the shopping channel. Eventually she takes on typical retirement activity by maniacally cooking meals from a French cuisine book, a leaving gift bestowed to her by Harvey, giving us a clue that Harvey likely has a good little trad wife at home.

Sue meanwhile seems doomed to repeat the cycle with fleeting acquaintances and lovers.

The periods of time Elizabeth has as herself show a glaring flaw in the idea of The Substance: despite being constantly reminded she and Sue are one, Elizabeth cannot enjoy her life through the embodiment of Sue. Their lives are indeed separate, building resentment and jealously in Elizabeth, whose time active is spent alone, her life deteriorating. When Sue's Cinderella time is up, she begins to take advantage of eeking out a few too many doses of spinal fluid elixir, resulting in Elizabeth aging rapidly. At no point does Elizabeth truly seem to experience the benefits of The Substance, which perhaps explains why she cannot consider she and Sue as one.

Age and generations aren't only represented through the characters, but other aspects of mise en scene. There is a vast difference between Elizabeth's fitness show, reminiscent of Jane Fonda's aerobics era, and Sue's which has been upgraded to appear like a big budget music video. Elizabeth's old fashioned leotard transforms to barely there attire for Sue, her moves more provocative and close ups lingering on her body, making a soft core to hard core transition.

The generation gap is also displayed in Elizabeth's penthouse, with 60s style furnishings, hints of her age shown in household items such as an analogue kitchen radio and the use of a wall calendar in favour of a smartphone. Again, Elizabeth opts for cooking unappetizing, equally dated recipes from a book, whilst Sue indulges in junk food take out.

The two cannot seem to accept one another as indeed being one and their shared experience is all the more disparate with cat and mouse attacks. Sue living the high life results in a slobbiness that leaves Elizabeth cleaning up her usually pristine home, or Sue will discard a giant portrait of Elizabeth and replace her clothing with smaller sized and more youthful items.

In Revenge, the final showdown scene is a relentless, bloody chase through narrow corridors and is akin here to Elizabeth and Sue facing off in the penthouse, confronting one another after an unexpected occurrence from administering The Substance against standard use.

It is another aspect of The Substance’s flaws that make it difficult (impossible?) for clients to treat their other self as themselves. It seems to draw up a lot of inner turmoil, suggesting all along what was needed was a good dose of self love.

Maternal moments may show up in Elizabeth - chasing away Sue’s unwanted male attention, or her change of heart when electing to terminate Sue - and a big part surrounding the concept of beauty being skin deep is evidenced in the moments that show Elizabeth simply doesn't love herself.

It is only when the biggest misuse of The Substance leads to the creation of an actual monster, that Elizabeth may have finally accepted who she is, that there is no miracle to staying youthfully beautiful, as she steps on to stage to insist that others accept her.

The absurdity of the finale plays out like a culmination of the ravages of time, food and substance abuse and a heavy bout of mental torment being expelled, confronting society's shallow obsessions. It is as much a revenge on the board of old white male execs, snobby cliental and obnoxious youths, as it is the tragic, horrifying downfall of what can become of a once beloved public figure.