Would you inject a neon green fluid into your veins if it meant you transformed into Margaret Qualley? If your answer is “yes” (and honestly, fair enough), you might just find out why that’s not the best idea in one of the most thrilling, and disturbing, and controversial films of the year — The Substance.
Elisabeth Sparkle has faded into the background. She is so much of a has been that her Hollywood star sign is cracked in the middle and no one cares enough to repair it. On the brink of a meltdown, she turns to “The Substance,” a miracle drug, a quick fix that will restore her to what she was before. She takes the drug and out of her extrudes “Sue,” a younger, canonically “perfect” version of herself. Now, the deal with “The Substance” is simple, all the have to do is respect the balance, alternating lives every two weeks. Easy enough… right?
Not really. And director Coralie Fargeat doesn’t just tell you it’s not – she drags you kicking and screaming into why it’s not.
Watching The Substance feels, in a word… jarring. This has been a year of directors loving the intense close-ups (see: Longlegs, Strange Darling, et al.), but none have really come close to what Fargeat has achieved. It’s eerie, it’s uncomfortable, and frankly, it’s kind of genius. Watching Dennis Quaid crunch down a bowl of shrimp shouldn’t be one of the most revolting things I’ve seen in a horror film this year, but here we are. The camera’s unrelenting proximity to its characters, especially under that disturbing male gaze, leaves you feeling as exposed and violated as Elisabeth and Sue.
Visually, the film is drenched in high-gloss and vibrant colors, with a cameo of star earrings that have become unmistakably Classic Fargeat — a style carried over from her 2017 debut, Revenge. Alongside this striking aesthetic are moments of sharp, unhinged humor that catch you slightly off guard, yet somehow feel perfectly aligned with the film’s identity, making everything you’re watching feel as though it exists just outside the boundaries of reality.
And that’s the magic: The Substance thrives in its surrealism. Half the time, you’re sitting there wondering, “Wait, but how does any of this make sense?” But that’s exactly the point – it doesn’t! The deliberate exaggeration and chaos only fuels the film’s satire, and intensifies the disorientation it wants you to feel. Normally, questioning a film’s plausibility mid-watch would be a dealbreaker. Here? It’s part of the charm, and none of it would work without Fargeat’s audacious vision for what the film sets out to be.
What grounds all this chaos is also how extra purposeful everything feels. The film is so over-the-top that it should turn you off — and rest assured, it does — yet you can’t look away. From the camera work and chapter headings, to the soundtrack and choreography, every element is put together with such precision. Even the direction is unpredictable; you never quite know where the film is headed until you’re already there, and by then, you’re squinting while perched at the edge of your seat.
No discussion of The Substance would be complete without a round of applause for the practical effects team, whose work brings the film’s most stomach-turning moments to life, with a special mention going to that monstrous abomination that anchors the bloody, grotesque ending.
But the film wouldn’t soar without its two stellar leads. Demi Moore successfully delivers a career-defining performance that stays with you long after the credits roll. As for Margaret Qualley, she is pure magnetic energy, exuding the captivating, almost otherworldly aura that Sue needs to sell the whole concept. Together, they are electric. Believe me when I tell you that the names Elisabeth Sparkles and Sue will forever be seared into your mind.
Now let’s address the elephant in the room: the ongoing “feminist or not?” debate circling The Substance. Let’s be clear: if you’re expecting a neatly wrapped feminist message with a triumphant ending, you’re likely to be disappointed. That said, I’d argue that there’s something undeniably powerful about using the female body — not as a vehicle for eroticism — but as a horror spectacle for fear and discomfort. Yes, we’re seeing an excessive amount of asses — and I mean a lot of asses — but none of them feel remotely sexualized. Instead, they’re framed in ways that feel odd, unsettling, even confrontational. Isn’t it refreshing to see female bodies depicted without the safety of traditional representation? Isn’t this raw, unfiltered portrayal its own form of representation?
And honestly, what better way to explore our fraught relationship with body image than through some meticulously crafted body horror? If the film is a commentary on anything, it’s a reflection of the sad, self-destructive tendencies we all carry, shaped by the deeply ingrained societal expectations that haunt us when we’re looking at ourselves in the mirror. By the end, all of it will leave you feeling nauseous, gagged, but also deeply saddened. It’s the kind of experience you could genuinely call cinematic.
The debate may never reach a definitive conclusion, but one thing’s for sure: with 2017’s Revenge and now The Substance, Fargeat’s really got it. She has truly found her voice.
