The Substance (2024)
Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance is a jaw-dropping, audacious dive into the dark underbelly of beauty culture. The film follows Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore), a fading celebrity who turns to a mysterious black-market drug that promises to create a younger, better version of herself. What unfolds is a grotesque, yet mesmerising journey that’ll have you squirming in your seat and unable to look away.
From the get-go, Fargeat throws us into a world that’s both familiar and nightmarishly distorted. The director’s keen eye for satire is on full display, skewering society’s obsession with youth and perfection with razor-sharp precision. It’s a world where botox parties are as common as book clubs, and the pursuit of eternal beauty comes at a terrifying cost.
Moore’s performance as Elisabeth is nothing short of revelatory. She brings a raw vulnerability to the role that’s both heartbreaking and infuriating. You’ll find yourself rooting for her one minute and wanting to shake some sense into her the next. It’s a career-defining turn that showcases Moore’s range and fearlessness as an actor.
The supporting cast is equally impressive, with Margaret Qualley delivering a deliciously unhinged performance as Sue, Elisabeth’s younger doppelganger. Dennis Quaid rounds out the trio as Harvey, a sleazy TV executive who embodies every toxic male stereotype imaginable.
Visually, The Substance is a feast for the eyes—albeit one that might make you lose your appetite. Fargeat and cinematographer Benjamin Kracun have crafted a world that’s simultaneously beautiful and repulsive. The use of colour is particularly striking, with sickly yellows and neon pinks creating an atmosphere of artificial glamour that feels like it could melt away at any moment.
The body horror elements are not for the faint of heart. Fargeat pulls no punches when it comes to depicting the grotesque transformations brought on by the titular substance. It’s Cronenberg-esque in its unflinching approach, pushing the boundaries of what’s acceptable on screen.
Where the film truly shines is in its exploration of themes surrounding ageing, self-worth, and the commodification of women’s bodies. Fargeat doesn’t just point out these issues; she takes a sledgehammer to them, forcing us to confront uncomfortable truths about our own complicity in these systems.
The pacing is relentless, rarely giving us a moment to catch our breath. This works in the film’s favour for the most part, though there are moments where a bit more breathing room would have been welcome. The score, composed by Raffertie, is a pulsing, synth-heavy affair that perfectly complements the film’s fever-dream aesthetic.
If there’s one minor quibble, it’s that the film occasionally teeters on the edge of being too on-the-nose with its messaging. However, given the subject matter, subtlety might be beside the point.
The Substance is a tour de force of filmmaking that demands to be seen. It’s not an easy watch by any means, but it’s one that’ll stick with you long after you’ve left the theatre. Fargeat has crafted a modern horror masterpiece that’s as thought-provoking as it is viscerally shocking. It’s the kind of film that reminds us why we go to the movies in the first place—to be challenged, disturbed, and ultimately transformed. If you’ve got the stomach for it, The Substance is an experience you won’t soon forget.