'The Substance' is fictional, but feminine self-loathing is real in this body horror

A scene from the 2004 comedy I mean girls Plastic finds the trio of average teenagers at the film's center, standing in front of a bedroom mirror bemoaning their personal physical “flaws”: “huge” hips, ugly calves, “man shoulders.” Moments later, they look at their silent new recruit, Lindsay Lohan's Cady Heron, expecting her to express her own self-loathing. He may present with morning halitosis.

It's doubtful that Coralie Farget rebuked Tina Fey's teenage years While dreaming the ghost story of his dismembered body in his mind substance. Yet, the essence of that satirical scene is through Forget's cri de cure against the idealization and demonization of women's bodies—how a misogynistic culture teaches us to hate ourselves for not looking a certain way and to accept the fate of disappearing upon arrival. a certain age. Many artistic movements have sought to push back against these limitations; substanceHis weapon of choice for dealing with such ailments is a straight-up wrecking ball that is often exhilarating and occasionally exhausting.

substance Starts up to 11, cheekily stripped down in its visual and descriptive un-subtlety: bright, bold color schemes; Big and wide performances; Dismembered body. Demi Moore is Elizabeth Sparkle, a Jane Fonda-esque aerobics TV star who turns the big 5-0 and is promptly fired from her gig in Hollywood. Dejected, he drives home, only to be distracted by his smiley face ripped from a billboard.

He's hit by another car, and miraculously is fine. Still, her nurse slips her a USB drive labeled “The Substance,” with a phone number to call and an exciting message: “This has changed my life.”

A self-administered injection of the substance serum creates a younger, hotter version of Elizabeth – “Sue”, played by Margaret Qualley – but for seven days at a time. After that period is over, he must revert to his old self and repeat the process over and over again … or else. “Remember you are the one,” reads the card inside his supply kit.

Margaret Qualley as Sue.

Christine Tamalet

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Christine Tamalet

Let this story go, Fargeat Notices an expected source for Elizabeth's strict preferences – men – though only peripherally. Dennis Quaid hams it up to the nth degree in some scenes as Harvey, the squeamish, boorish TV exec who flippantly fires Elizabeth and eagerly hires Sue.

More interestingly, substance It's an internal character study, existing in an exciting year that has seen a number of female and non-binary filmmakers use rich, immersive storytelling to convey complex relationships with the physical self, including Jane Schoenbrunn. I watched TV Glow and Mariel Heller Upcoming adaptations of the novel night beach. Fargate's purpose is not only to call out external pressures that women take extreme measures to achieve a narrow definition of desirability; He wants to immerse the viewer in a terrifying experience of all the destruction of physical and mental pain.

After that initial injection, Sue's violent, terrifying “birth” from Elizabeth's body is a technical marvel and, like much of the movie, not for the squeamish. (The visual and special effects team consisted of Pierre-Olivier Persin, Brian Jones, Pierre Procudin-Gorsky and Jean Miele. We've come a long way since David Cronenberg. The Fly.) Fargeat takes her several minutes to make sure new cells are formed, skin is torn, blood is released and your senses are tapped and engaged by every damn bit of it.

This opening scene is barely enough preparation for what follows for the rest of the runtime, as Elizabeth/Sue is consumed by an existential epidemic. Sue, perky and “perfect,” replaces Elizabeth as the new aerobic it-girl in her wake, while Elizabeth spends her other half ascending and resenting her own continued existence as the old one. The seven-day “balance” of time begins to tip one way and things take a turn for the worse.

It's a huge showcase for Qualley and especially Moore, who may be channeling Faye Dunaway's corrosive, ever-spiraling spirit. dear mom and late-period Bette Davis. On paper her character is drawn thinly, with no family or friends mentioned, no backstory other than her identity as a fading TV star; Elizabeth and Sue are instead pure IDs, powerful vessels through which Fargate's primal screams are delivered.

That initial outcry is justified and effective up to a point. Forget relentlessly progresses, with Moore and Qualley fully committed to the absurdity and monstrosity of their characters' shared trajectories. Few viewers will willingly indulge this excess, but during a particularly nasty sequence in the third act, the brilliant motif began to feel like a shock driven with such brutal force that my senses were dulled. I was scared of the adventure and unsure if messaging was losing its bite because it was right. a lot.

At the same time the over-the-top approach feels like an argument in itself, considering how much has actually changed in terms of campaigns like the body positivity movement. The goalposts have moved.

Curves and body fat are socially acceptable and even celebrated, depending on where they reside on the body and who is inhabiting that body. (And if you don't have them, you can always buy them at your own risk.) Hollywood's standards for older women have loosened compared to decades ago, though the unspoken definition of “older” remains narrow; We marvel at actresses like Jennifer Lopez (55), Halle Berry (58), and even Moore (61). because They don't look their age. (Moore has been candid about her past struggles with disordered eating and aging within the industry.) It makes sense in a movie substance Will come along and express such unhinged rage at all the thought of it.

The film's final lingering shot is a stunning vision, at once grotesque and cathartic. When it unfolds, about two and a half hours of all the squirming, slurping, pummeling, bleating and rotting – not to mention the butt; A lot of butt – it is, surprisingly, relatively tame and almost soothing. It's a bold conclusion that evokes a deep admiration for his creator's ambition as well as a sense of accomplishment in himself for finally enduring the ever-increasing madness.