The crowd roared with laughter; audience members remarked, baffled by the events befalling their eyes. This crowd couldn’t help but laugh at the absurd downfall of the woman on screen – a woman who had in reality destroyed herself for the hope of being loved by society. This was what I witnessed seeing “The Substance” in theaters.
“The Substance,” written and directed by French filmmaker Coralie Fargeat, is a heartbreakingly accurate depiction of the constant battles of womanhood. Exploring themes such as misogyny, self-loathing and the constant fear of aging, Fargeat beautifully captures how the effects of unsustainable societal beauty standards can have devastating consequences for those who succumb to them.
Accompanied with bold, dramatic imagery and extravagantly illuminative visuals, “The Substance” paints a heavily dramatized picture of societal expectations upon women, demonstrating the constant internal battle between self and what others expect. In the most literal interpretation, Fargeat very explicitly explains how devastating this battle can be to women in general.
“The Substance” follows academy award-winning actress and TV dance fitness host Elizabeth Sparkle — stunningly played by Demi Moore. The story begins after her abrupt termination from her fitness show, when her misogynistic producer fires her in search of a “younger” and “sexier” new talent. Reeling from this loss, Sparkle is introduced to a secret black-market program, aptly referred to as The Substance. By using a single injection, Sparkle is able to unlock the “best version” of herself – a charismatic and younger version to perfectly fit within the beauty standard. In the most literal sense, Sparkle creates a “perfect” clone of herself to carry out her acting aspirations.
This “clone” of Sparkle, played by Margaret Qualley, represents the ideal of the beauty standard: beautiful, young and charismatic. She creates a new identity for herself, Sue, to be everything she wishes she could still be.
In doing so, Sparkle unknowingly unleashed the most self-destructive version of herself, hell bent on conquering her aging. Throughout the film, Sue continues to take and take from her own host’s flesh, essentially destroying herself in the name of continuing to appeal to the standard. This very clearly parallels the constant pressures on women in society to always be perceived as perfect and effortless – a task that usually proves to be impossible without the use of unhealthy methods to reach it. In the film, Sue is required to extract a sort of life essence from her original host body and re-inject it into herself to continue surviving; the more she takes, the more her original body ages.
Throughout the film, the sharp contrast between the portrayals of men and women is quite hard to miss. This is especially apparent with Sparkle’s opinionated former producer, Harvey, played by Dennis Quaid. While being a powerful and confident man in control of Sparkle’s career, the worst parts of him are what are actually put on screen: sloppy, rude and unlikeable. Using filmography, characterization and wardrobe, men are consistently portrayed as awkward, exaggerated or egocentric. By contrast, nearly every female character is consistently portrayed as put together, gracious and selfless — with the exception of Sparkle’s descent into madness as she faces the consequences of The Substance. A critique of our current society, Fargeat sheds light on the idea that women are expected to behave this way in public while men typically face a much lower standard.
Another device in expressing these messages is the unique cinematography and aesthetic choices used throughout the film. In a captivating yet efficient display layered with stunning and emotional shots, Fargeat heavily utilizes visuals to express and evoke emotions from the viewer. As the perspective flips between the lives of Sue and Sparkle, the wardrobe and aesthetics reflect the swap to further separate the two, with Sparkle representing an older, more refined aesthetic and Sue representing a trendy, youthful and more glittery personality.
Additionally, Fargeat uses another fascinating technique to get her messages across: in shots focusing on male characters, the shots are closer, angles are lower and a resemblance of a fisheye lens serves to additionally relay the contrast between the societal expectations of men and women respectively.
In a dramatic final conclusion, Sue rejects the rules of The Substance, going to another level by cloning herself once more. In doing so, she creates a monster: a vaguely humanoid amalgamation of what used to be a beloved actress, now a personification of her biggest fear. Determined to finish what she started, she graces the stage for one last performance to the public, only to be met with disturbed shock from her audience. The audience turns against her, no longer seeing the bright young upcoming actress they once adored, but instead a monster that needs to be slayed. Being met with attack from the people, “Mostro Eliza-sue” literally erupts into a horrifyingly-graphic explosion of blood, exposing the audience to the blunt and messy truth as a dramatic finale to her career. She had successfully destroyed herself in trying to please the crowd. In a jarringly dramatic depiction of the effects of societal pressure, what used to be Elizabeth Sparkle succumbed to her desire to be perfect for her audience, ultimately being destroyed by the very people who created her self-loathing in the first place.
This ending perfectly depicts the ultimate female rage: a woman driven by her insecurities, created by the standards of society, gets her final dramatic and insanely intense release by exposing society to just what they created.
As a woman myself, I find that Fargeat’s depiction of the effects of beauty standards on one’s mental health is extremely accurate. While obviously not to quite the same extent as displayed in the film, I often found myself heavily relating to many of Sparkle’s thoughts, especially regarding our society’s consistent obsession with preventing aging. It’s incredibly validating to see things like that publicized, which is why this film stands out to me so much.
It’s so crucial to have such raw content about real human emotions that isn’t watered down.
Fargeat near perfectly details the effects beauty standards have on women in an encapsulating, emotional and beautifully dramatic commentary. Through the use of engaging storytelling, captivating visuals and outstanding directing, Fargeat truly brings light to the rawness and reality of a feminine breaking point and just how powerful it can really be.
