“Have you ever dreamt of a better version of yourself?”
Coralie Fargeat’s latest film, The Substance, asks this question rather rhetorically. In a way, making this the film’s main tagline gives up the game. And I think that’s fair, because the film (the filmmaker’s second, following her acclaimed 2017 film Revenge) zeroes in on how it executes its themes, showcasing Fargeat’s confident direction.
From its satire of the male gaze to its critique of society’s hyperfixation on ageism toward women, The Substance stands as a smart film that delivers on its themes and premise—and does so in spades. More importantly, with Demi Moore delivering a career-best performance that will surely court Academy Award consideration, this is a film that could make the likes of De Palma, Cronenberg, and Lynch blush. And while at certain points in the film it isn’t necessarily a compliment, at least it’s a good start.
The Substance follows Elisabeth Sparkle (Moore), a famous aerobics TV star who, on her birthday, accidentally overhears network mogul Harvey (Dennis Quaid) planning to fire her due to her age, with casting calls for her replacement already underway. As the film progresses, we learn that Elisabeth has just turned 50, and despite her fame and swanky top-floor apartment overlooking the city, she lives alone, consumed by thoughts of her age and appearance.
This obsession leads to a car accident when she becomes distracted by the sight of one of her billboards being taken down while driving. At the hospital, a mysterious nurse hands Elisabeth a flash drive labeled The Substance, along with a note claiming it saved the nurse’s life. Initially dismissive, Elisabeth’s growing anxiety about being replaced continues to gnaw at her, compelling her to eventually check out the contents of the flash drive.
A Mysterious ‘Substance’ that Creates a Younger, More Beautiful You
Here, Fargeat wastes no time driving her points home. Moore’s Elisabeth is a woman who longs for her glory days—a natural performer with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, who depends on the audience’s adulation for validation. It is no surprise, then, when Elisabeth decides to contact the mysterious source behind the flash drive to try it for herself.
This “substance” turns out to be a serum that creates a younger, more beautiful version of the user. With instructions from the serum’s packaging serving as exposition, we learn that the technology comes at a steep price: the two must share one body, alternating every seven days. And before Elisabeth can even wonder whether this younger version is a clone, both the instruction manual and the person on the other end of the phone remind her:
“YOU are the matrix … There is no she. Remember, you are ONE.”
This repeated reminder foreshadows the delicate balance in this alchemy. As the film reaches its third act, Fargeat fully embraces the dark comedy of her premise. Using body horror to satirize the unhealthy obsession with beauty and youth, The Substance builds to a crazy crescendo, and Fargeat’s gleefully ridiculous execution makes it a visually gory treat.
Ageism and Society’s “Better Version” of Women
With The Substance, Fargeat rides on Moore’s shoulders to dive deep into themes of vanity and societal pressures on beauty. As Elisabeth’s younger version, Sue (Margaret Qualley), charms her way to the top with her youth and beauty, the film challenges the audience’s perceptions of beauty, self-worth, and the idea of perfection—especially as it relates to women.
Does Fargeat succeed? I’d say yes, but at times to a fault. One of the film’s strongest elements is its exploration of the ‘better version of yourself’ concept, reflecting the internalized ageism women face as they grow older. Moore’s performance—vulnerable, honest, and raw—makes Elisabeth relatable. It doesn’t help that her character works in an industry dominated by chauvinists, with Quaid’s Harvey offering no nuance, instead parodying the Weinsteins of the industry.
From the first shot—a depiction of a serum injected into an egg yolk that yields a second yolk—The Substance eliminates subtlety and goes straight for the jugular. The pressure to stay relevant leads Elisabeth to drastic measures, using the serum to become Sue. Fargeat clearly distinguishes the characters as they diverge, each engaging in self-destructive behavior at the expense of the other’s body.
Satirizing the Male Gaze and Using Body Horror to Metaphorize Self-Destruction
For the most part, Fargeat’s direction effectively critiques the male gaze by hyper-fixating the camera on Sue’s young, ‘perfect’ body. I appreciate how overt this is in showing how the men in the film focus on Sue’s physicality, highlighting Elisabeth’s aged state by comparison.
Is Sue’s existence the director’s middle finger to the patriarchal vision of beauty? I’d like to think so. Framing it that way flips the male gaze on its head and is the only way for the film to work. After all, it’s a skewed version of perfection—a toxic ideal that can consume both Elisabeth and Sue.
Without spoiling the film, Elisabeth and Sue’s stories culminate in a conclusion that’s wildly comedic, tragic, and—in a way—expected. Sometimes, the unhealthy pursuit of perfection leads to self-destruction, and what better way to portray this on screen than through body horror?
This is where Fargeat shines. While I still consider Revenge a slightly better film, The Substance reminds me of Julia Ducournau’s Titane, with both films using extreme body horror to critique societal expectations of women. And like Ducournau, Fargeat’s visceral execution of her themes is deserving of praise.
Demi Moore’s Finest Hour: A Critique of Toxic Ideals on Beauty and Youth
One of the most underrated aspects of the film is the sound design and mixing by Emmanuelle Villard, Stéphane Thiébaut, and Valérie Deloof. Alongside the film’s frenetic editing, the sound design is spine-tingling, toe-curling, and hair-raising—body horror puns intended.
Of course, all of this boils down to the performances. While Dennis Quaid and Margaret Qualley provide strong turns in supporting roles, The Substance successfully reintroduces Demi Moore to younger audiences, while reminding older generations of her exceptional talent when given the right material. Fargeat’s screenplay is that perfect material, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see Moore garner nominations come awards season.
Through its unflinching, satirical lens, The Substance stands as Coralie Fargeat’s bold, violent, and darkly funny critique of a world that pushes women to dream of being better versions of themselves. Ultimately, however, this destructive path only leads them to become someone they are not.
A self-described cinephile who can’t stop talking—and writing—about films. Paul also moonlights as ghostwriter and editor for a few memoirs. He currently resides in the Philippines.
