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Film review of “The Substance”: Grotesque, but not body horror

Elisabeth Sparkles (Demi Moore) has just turned 50 when she is fired as host of a televised aerobics show by the producer (Dennis Quaid). Elisabeth, like so many aging stars before her, is pushed into irrelevance by a superficial industry that refuses to look beyond her aging body. But for the rich and famous, there is still another option. Elisabeth is offered a new biotechnology that will allow her to relive her youth. Or at least split herself in half and share her life with a younger model who can live the life she is denied. And so begins The substanceCoralie Fargeat's second feature film, which has already been nicknamed “Body Horror” due to its haunting images and body mutations.

(Image credit: Courtesy of the studio)

After Elisabeth injects herself with the neon-green liquid, she convulses on the bathroom floor, and from her breaking spine emerges her younger self, Sue (Margaret Qualley). Wet with bodily fluids, she stands in front of the mirror and marvels at her supple flesh, her perky butt, her full lips. This is where Coralie Fargeat's problem begins: Although she wants to criticize the industry's ageism, she forgets that the camera knows no irony. What follows are many long shots of Sue, with her body stared at by the camera. In one scene, Sue wears a tight leather catsuit, and Margaret Qualley's curves bulge like Jeff Koons' under an objectifying lens. While Elisabeth – despite Demi Moore's obvious beauty – gets only cold, hard angles.

Film still

(Image credit: Courtesy of the studio)

The substance may be a grotesque piece of horror, but not every gory addition to the genre falls into the category of body horror. When Sue inevitably abuses the substance, the effects on Elisabeth's body are visible: her finger is swollen and wrinkled beyond her years. Repulsed by the old appendage, she desperately scrubs the finger in the hope of restoring her hand to its former glory.

In body horror, discomfort with the body is a prerequisite: Adrien (Agathe Rouselle) denies her pregnancy, although she is half human, half car, although her belly is swelling (titanium2021) Saul Tenser (Viggo Mortensen) struggles to accept the new organ growing inside him and fights against his own rapid development (Crimes of the future2022) and body-swapping assassin Tasya Vos (Andrea Risebourgh) reckons with separation from her physicality while reveling in the sexual pleasure of the body of Colin (Christopher Abbott) that she inhabits (Owner, 2020). Suffice it to say that alongside the dysmorphic horror they all experience, there are also moments of sensual joy in their changing physicality, one that challenges gender boundaries and offers visceral and erotic possibilities beyond the binary. But for Elisabeth, there is no celebration, only disgust, as she has internalized the misogyny of her industry.

Film still

Statue from Titane, ©Carole_Bethuel

(Image credit: Courtesy of the studio)

Body horror is much more than just manipulated bloodshed designed to evoke disgust. Rather, it involves a curiosity about the body that differs from the usual voyeurism of horror. Despite attempts to criticize ageism, Fargeat's pathetic treatment of the body and reliance on hagsploitation cliches, as well as a lack of interiority for Elisabeth or Sue – who spend their days in front of the television or seeking male attention – results in a vacuous portrayal of femininity.