Directed by: Coralie Fargeat
Cast: Demi Moore, Margaret Qualley, Dennis Quaid
Coralie Fargeat’s new film, The Substance, is disgusting. Not morally or ethically, I mean viscerally disgusting. The same way finding rotten food in your fridge is disgusting. The Substance plays all of the body horror hits; Teeth pulling, rotting flesh, injections, pus, blood, sweat, and limbs where they don’t belong. All that to say, How the hell does this film have a 4.0 on Letterboxd, and how did it win Cannes’ coveted screenwriting prize?
Gross practical VFX are a touchstone of the body horror genre. Toronto’s own David Cronenberg is famous for working with purely practical monster designs, such as the famous transformation Jeff Goldblum undergoes in The Fly. The Substance takes this up to an unprecedented level, adding to the incomprehensible nature of the film’s mainstream success. Darren Aronofsky is probably the director most closely associated with breaking this genre through to the masses, with his 2010 film Black Swan, featuring a hauntingly disfigured Natalie Portman which was largely achieved with obvious computer graphics. The Substance, however, feels plausible, inside our realm.
The Substance follows Elizabeth Sparkle, an aging, award winning actress played by Demi Moore. She is accosted by her sleazebag showrunner boss, Harvey, played by Dennis Quaid, coming off of his even more horrific performance as Ronald Reagan earlier this year. Harvey’s misogynistic tirade about aging actresses and women’s beauty send Elizabeth searching for answers, before getting into a violent car accident. At the hospital, uninjured but mentally shaken, Elizabeth is slipped an advertisement for a mysterious company, revealed to sell The Substance, proclaiming it can create a better version of yourself. Elizabeth calls the number printed on the USB, finds the decrepit building where her Substance delivery is kept, and undergoes the at-home self-help procedure. Elizabeth’s spine splits in half, birthing a new version of herself, played by Margaret Qualley, who calls herself Sue, and slowly replaces the old Elizabeth Sparkle in all facets of her old life. The procedure requires that the two versions of Elizabeth switch every week, but the new Sue steals more and more time from Elizabeth, leading to horrific damage to her body and unspeakable consequences down the line. The film devolves into some of the most vile and visceral body horror complete with impeccable sound design and foley work. The theater experience during TIFF was something to behold, half of the audience cowering for fear behind their hands (including me), nobody could hold in their exclamations of “oh gods” and “ews”.
There are unavoidable parallels to the recent rise in Ozempic, a mass marketed weight loss solution derived from diabetes medication, with unknown long term side effects. Fargeat herself has mentioned she understands the parallels, but that these solutions have been around for centuries. She states that weight loss advertisements in her home country France were an inspiration to write the script and eventually employ an Actress who has been through the Hollywood wringer.
The Substance's most insightful commentary, which may explain its broad appeal despite its shocking final act, focuses on the entertainment industry's exploitation of young women. Elizabeth goes from selling a genuine product to marketing her body alone as Sue. Sue enjoys the supposed glory and fame from doing so, but takes more and more damage to her “other self”, the original self. Elizabeth seeks a self-actualizing quick fix to being abandoned by the empty and vapid industry she finds herself in. The transformation is symbolically brilliant because it is initially enjoyed by Elizabeth, now Sue, alone in her apartment, staring in the mirror. Only then are the fruits of The Substance slowly taken and exploited by those looking to profit from Sue. Elizabeth is given the option to end “the experience,” but finds herself unable to escape the addictive nature of fame. The film constantly reminds us that there is no other, only one. “Remember, you are one”.
The Substance is particularly visceral because it features one of the most memorable design choices in sci-fi/body horror history. The packaging of The Substance generates its own self importance, dominating the scene with its minimalistic design, abrupt instructions, and dangerous aura. The font is extra bold, all caps, and authoritarian in nature. It feels like a propaganda poster during war time, enticing you with its messaging, ensnaring you in its promises. The film even utilizes music from the classic thriller Vertigo, a film which has one of the most famous movie posters of all time, featuring font work from acclaimed graphic designer Saul Bass. It's likely no accident that product design was a focus for the film's prop-making team.
Director Coralie Fargeat, in an interview with Polygon, talked about the design choices in the film, stating, “[It] would be super simple, but as kind of an injunction; it’s something that is almost like you have to do it, with this very simple ‘activate,’ ‘stabilize,’ ‘switch’ — which was almost kind of a propaganda type of font. There is something that you see, and it’s like you can’t escape it,”
Every element of The Substance’s design is hyper-modern, cold and calculating. A USB drive delivers the initial advertisement. The clip that plays in Elizabeth’s apartment uses snappy and futuristic graphical elements to display the mysterious company’s logo. The delivery of The Substance is contactless, emblematic of the state of food, grocery, and product delivery of our modern age. Later in the film, Elizabeth becomes frenzied at the sound of another person picking up their Substance, disrupting her isolated ritual, provoking her with the threat of human contact.
The Substance is one of the more memorable movie theater experiences I’ve had lately. I still think about some of the line deliveries and punchlines in the film days after seeing it, and I also immediately rewatched the film in theaters with my Sister just to see their reaction. Watch this in a crowded theater if you can, half the fun is people’s reactions.
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