The Substance – A Grisly Take on Dorian Gray for the Ozempic Age

Have you ever wanted to change something about yourself? I would confidently say that most of us have felt dissatisfied with our appearance at one time or another. In her newest offering, Coralie Fargeat takes this idea and cranks it up to 11, unleashing an explosive 140-minute splatter-fest onto the viewer.

The Substance follows Elisabeth Sparkle (played to perfection by Demi Moore), a former A-lister whose star power has waned in recent years. On the day of her 50th birthday, Elisabeth is fired from her long-running fitness show by her boss, Harvey (a grotesque Dennis Quaid), as she is too old. Here enters a mysterious company offering a solution to all her problems – a black-market drug known as the Substance. Once injected, the Substance splits the user’s cells, producing a younger, fitter, more beautiful version of themselves. This is a preliminary warning for anyone scared of needles, because this most certainly will not be the film for you. After some debating, Elisabeth takes the plunge, birthing her double, Sue (the excellent Margaret Qualley), from her back in the first of many wince-inducing scenes. The deal is simple – Sue is conscious for seven days at a time, requiring drip-feedings of spinal fluid from a dormant Elisabeth as a stabiliser, and once the seven days are up, Elisabeth takes over for the next week. With the simple reminder that Elisabeth and Sue “are one” and to “respect the balance,” what could possibly go wrong?

Things are happening to the human body here that are often reserved for direct-to-streaming splatter fare

What follows is a gruesome watch, serving up spades of body horror that David Cronenberg and Brian Yuzna would be proud of. It is certainly tough to stomach at times (some audience members have reportedly fainted at the film’s various screenings) and it will test even the most seasoned gorehounds. The FX work is, in short, jaw-dropping. Without spoiling any of the surprises, things are happening to the human body here that are often reserved for direct-to-streaming splatter fare. It is almost baffling that this got a wide release courtesy of MUBI. Although the violence is intense, it is also wildly entertaining, revelling in the total absurdity of the bodily carnage occurring on screen. Watching this in a packed cinema is practically essential as there is nothing quite like experiencing the third act with a cacophony of laughs, cries, screams, and retches.

Alongside this is a trio of truly excellent performances. Demi Moore is the beating heart, wonderfully portraying the nuances of Elisabeth’s insecurities before she goes totally off the rails, giving a deranged horror performance for the ages. Yet it is in the quiet moments when she truly shines. Perhaps the film’s most affecting scene lacks any gore, detailing Elisabeth’s inability to leave her house for a date, too paralysed by her insecurities. It is truly heartbreaking, and Moore sells Elisabeth’s desperation, sadness, and anger. Qualley is doing equally good work as the picture-perfect Sue, although she’s given significantly less to do. As a character, Sue is sort of a blank slate but that is also part of the film’s point – if Sue is beautiful, why would anyone care about what she has to say or what her personality is like? However, anytime Fargeat allows her to let loose, Qualley gives it her all. Rounding out the trio is Dennis Quaid and, despite his recent political escapades, he plays the role incredibly well. Harvey is as camp as he is slimy, and it is obvious Quaid is having an amazing time, devouring the scenery in a similar way to how his character eats shrimp (those who know know).

Adding to the electrifying atmosphere is some true technical finesse. Fargeat’s camerawork here is masterful, at times utterly dizzying, but consistently creative. Paired with her cinematographer, Benjamin Kracun, the film is enthralling to look at with its use of fish-eye lenses and intense close-ups. The result is a visual feast, tied together by editing that is as slick as it is abrasive. The cherry on top of such a vicious cake is the film’s sound. Whether it be the squirm-inducing foley work as wounds are sewn up and hands are torn off, or English composer Raffertie’s outstanding techno score, (potentially rivalling Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ score for Challengers as my favourite soundtrack for the year), The Substance is aurally delightful.

Whilst the film’s greatest strength is its technical proficiency, those bothered by a lack of realism may find themselves scratching their heads. Fargeat portrays a plastic Los Angeles, both existing in the modern day and simultaneously in the 1980s. Mind you, this is a world where becoming the lead of a daytime exercise show can launch you into stardom. It is almost fairytale-esque – glossy and uncanny, at times even alluding to Kubrick’s The Shining in its production design. Moreover, the film has its fair share of head-scratching plot holes (practically everything involving Sue’s identity) that, more often than not, require the viewer to turn their brain off and just sink into the madness. Nevertheless, those seeking realism may find the film more frustrating than fantastical.

Fargeat’s lack of subtlety is exactly what makes The Substance work so well – there is no chance for her to be misunderstood

Thematically, Fargeat’s intentions here are clear, critiquing the intense beauty standards of the entertainment industry that prescribe all women, no matter how successful, with an expiration date. The casting of Demi Moore to do so is ingenious. Once the world’s highest-paid actress, Moore faced several critical and commercial failures, leading to a significant decrease in roles. Moore remains a household name but, much like Elisabeth, her star status has undeniably waned over the past 20 years. Whilst Moore acts as an enjoyable metatextual element for Fargeat’s satire, the rest of her attempts are rather unsubtle, whether this be in the film’s own concept, its (at times) on-the-nose dialogue, or the vile producer (who is coincidentally named Harvey). Yet Fargeat is not aiming for subtlety. Her debut feature Revenge, released in 2017, was equally upfront in its messaging, choosing to tackle its theme of sexual assault with fury and excessive bloodshed. There is an undeniably justified anger in Fargeat’s filmmaking. We should be angry about these issues; women deserve to be angry about these issues. Fargeat’s lack of subtlety is exactly what makes The Substance work so well – there is no chance for her to be misunderstood.

There has, however, been criticism raised towards the film, labelling it as misogynistic and exploitative. Fargeat’s camera, whether satirically or not, constantly lingers on Margaret Qualley’s body, bordering on softcore pornography at times. More generally, all the disgusting body horror endured by its protagonists arguably invites us to gawk and laugh at the female body under duress. Do such moments in the film hinder Fargeat’s overall message, reinforcing what she is rallying against? Every audience member will have a different opinion regarding this, and countless online discussions have occurred. It seems to be a matter of personal opinion here, in how much you as a viewer can regard Fargeat’s lens and presentation of the female body as satirical. Additionally, it depends on what you are looking for when watching The Substance – a body horror film, a Feminist horror film, or a synthesis of the two.

As unsubtle as it is entertaining, The Substance is a gleefully gory good time. Demi Moore is on electric form as Elisabeth, delivering a performance that will hopefully initiate a rebirth for an actress unceremoniously forgotten by the industry. Add to that an abrasive techno soundtrack, slick editing, innovative camerawork, squirm-inducing sound design, and stellar performances, you easily get the best horror feature released this year. Whilst nuance and a unique perspective within the film’s social commentary takes less precedence over its campiness and bloodshed, The Substance’s sheer audacity makes it worth seeing. Ultimately, Fargeat’s second feature feels like a revival of a long-dormant subgenre relegated to horror’s fringes. I, for one, could not be happier for its return.