Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance is a fever dream of cinematic fury, an exhilarating feminist body-horror satire that explodes with graphic imagery and biting social commentary. Fargeat, known for her debut Revenge, doubles down on her critique of gender roles, beauty standards, and the male gaze with a film that’s as grotesque as it is brilliant.
At its heart, The Substance follows Elizabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore), a former actress turned fitness guru, who is confronted with Hollywood’s ruthless obsession with youth. As Elizabeth’s career teeters on the edge, her crass and chauvinistic agent Harvey (Dennis Quaid) plans to replace her with a younger, fresher version, Sue (Margaret Qualley). The plot is simple but subversive, taking the concept of self-renewal to disturbing extremes. Fargeat takes the structure of something like George Romero’s Creepshow and brings it to another level.
Fargeat cleverly uses body horror as a vehicle for her feminist message, turning the male gaze on itself with an unapologetic boldness that’s often both hilarious and horrifying. The camera lingers on Qualley’s Sue with almost satirical sensuality, as if mocking Hollywood’s relentless objectification of women. Even the most absurdly erotic moments, like Sue cracking open a Diet Coke with her lips, are layered with biting critique. These scenes play out like a grotesque parody, highlighting how commercial objectification cannot entirely dispel the allure of eroticism.
The film’s visual style is another of its triumphs. Fargeat and cinematographer Benjamin Kracun bathe the screen in neon hues, creating a hyper-stylized world where every detail feels exaggerated to the point of surrealism. Kubrick’s influence is clear in the meticulous set designs and framing, with overt nods to The Shining—long, unsettling hallways and disorienting color palettes dominate Elizabeth’s world. Yet she also takes on the body horror of Cronenberg’s The Fly. It’s a visual feast that’s at once grotesque and gorgeous.
Moore’s performance as Elizabeth is nothing short of a revelation. Drawing from her own history in Hollywood, Moore imbues the character with a mix of vulnerability and defiance, capturing the existential terror of aging in an industry that fetishizes youth. Her portrayal is both haunting and deeply human. Moore’s finest moment comes in the quieter scenes where the film lets up on its aesthetic chaos, allowing Elizabeth’s raw fear of aging to take center stage.
Margaret Qualley, in contrast, embodies Sue with an eerie perfection that’s both alluring and unsettling. Lit and styled like a living Barbie doll, Sue is the epitome of everything Hollywood worships—and fears. Qualley’s ability to play both the innocent and the sinister foil makes Sue a complex and unnerving presence. Her robotic, sexualized workout routine is a surreal highlight, blending Jazzercise with lap dance aesthetics to reference the commodification of women’s bodies.
What makes The Substance truly stand out, however, is its brutal honesty about the way women are pitted against each other in the patriarchal system. The rivalry between Elizabeth and Sue isn’t just about fame—it’s a violent struggle for existence in a world that demands women constantly reinvent themselves to remain relevant. Fargeat’s satire cuts deep, showing how women are often complicit in their own dehumanization, forced to play roles that serve the desires of men while erasing their true selves.
The film’s climax, where Elizabeth and Sue’s relationship deteriorates into a physical battle for dominance, is a surreal blend of body horror and feminist metaphor. Fargeat brilliantly deconstructs the myth of the “better, younger” woman, showing that both Elizabeth and Sue are trapped in the same toxic cycle. The grotesque transformation scenes—complete with ripping flesh and oozing viscera—are as disturbing as they are thought-provoking, symbolizing the ultimate erasure of self in pursuit of unattainable body ideals.
The Substance is not a film for the faint of heart. Its graphic depictions of body horror, coupled with its unrelenting critique of societal expectations, will challenge even the most seasoned viewers. But for those willing to engage with its savage wit and disturbing visuals, it offers a profoundly resonant commentary on the price women pay to survive in a world that values them only as commodities.
5/5 Stars
