An egg yolk sits beside itself before an unknown fluid gets injected into it and it splits in two. What was once one is now two - though are the two eggs the same? Is one more “pure” than the other? Is the copy as valid as the original?

Such is the opening shot of The Substance, Mubi’s latest body horror film written and directed by Coralie Fargeat and starring Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley. The film immediately states its mission - to ask questions about what it means to copy one’s existence into something cleaner and seemingly more desirable to society. The opening shot of the egg splitting into two also tells us of the bold style that The Substance is going to be dripping with. The Substance is described by its stars in a pre-screening thank-you message as a “wild ride” - but such a description understates just how much of an unpredictable journey that The Substance takes viewers on.

While being an avid filmgoer, there are certain genres I’m less privy to. Body horror as a subgenre of horror is a type of film that I’ve typically found myself either disinterested in or disappointed by. Films such as 2021’s Titane from Kazak Productions and 2022’s Men from A24 are emblematic of my frustration with the genre - body horror is typically wrought with intriguing concepts but underwhelming narrative. More often than not, it feels like these movies are typically constructed with abstract ideas and disturbing imagery first, with meaningful stories and characters written after the fact. It’s often led to my disappointment with the genre and why I’ve lacked any kind of attachment to the genre - I’ve simply never been impressed by it.

Moreover, my philosophy for writing content for this blog is built on the following: if there’s a piece of media that I feel is worth talking about, deserves a spotlight, and I feel like I have something meaningful to say about it, then I’ll write about it.

The reason why I bring up this context is to make the following clear: watching The Substance has been one of the most unexpected and pleasant surprises of the year for me. Not only has this film made me believer in what this genre is capable of, it does so with a style and remarkable theming that I feel stands above most other films not only in its genre but in general. The Substance is a smartly constructed, cautionary tale about the hubris of refusing to confront the self-loathing that’s born out of a culture that obsesses over unattainable beauty standards. Let’s talk further about what makes The Substance such a stand-out among its contemporaries.

After its opening shot that immediately communicates the power of the titular substance of unknown origin, we’re shown a brilliant sequence featuring a star being embedded along the Hollywood Walk of Fame. The star in question is for Elizabeth Sparkle, and without uttering a single word of dialogue, we’re immediately made intimately familiar with the public perception of Sparkle. As days and nights pass after the star is put onto the Walk of Fame, cracks in the star begin to show. People begin to pass the star as they try to recall what movies Sparkle was in. Lastly, a man drops his lunch over the star, as ketchup, sauce, and grease splatter across the star, making it practically unreadable. Elizabeth Sparkle is but a forgotten cog in the never-ending Hollywood machine. Society has moved on from her. Behind the star now obscured by fast food condiments is a legacy that has been tossed aside with time. Without a word, The Substance convinces of the dilemma that its protagonist will suffer with throughout the film’s narrative.

We begin following the perspective of Elizabeth Sparkle as she navigates what is clearly the final days of a dying career. She runs a 1980s-style aerobics TV show for a network in the modern day - yet another reminder that she represents a side of culture that society and the world of entertainment has moved on from. After they finish filming, we see conversations between Sparkle and her manager, played by Dennis Quaid. In a word, Sparkle’s boss is disgusting. He makes no effort in hiding that he despises and wishes to replace Sparkle when she isn’t around, he leaves a mess at a dinner scene with Sparkle, and every conversation he has with others is tinged in misogyny and self-centeredness. Sparkle is informed that her show is being canceled in favor of show led by a younger, “hotter” woman.

This only accelerates the disintegration of Sparkle’s self image. As she watches people remove the sign promoting her show, Sparkle has become immersed in sorrow as she accepts that the world doesn’t seem to want her anymore. As a woman in the latter half of her life, she’s seen as not conventionally attractive enough to warrant having a show, a sign with her face on it, or much of a presence in anyone’s lives.

As the film continues, Sparkle gets introduced to the titular Substance - an unknown liquid with strict rules that, when precisely followed, produces a younger copy of oneself. The catch: the “original” and the “copy” are one and the same person, and they must switch between each other every seven days for either version of the host to remain alive. This gives Sparkle the golden opportunity to reclaim what she feels has been taken from her - her fame, her self-image, and self-worth. After Sparkle takes the Substance, her younger self gets the role for her own replacement - that of a more modern dancing show.

What follows is a smart examination of how doing this affects Sparkle’s self-worth, as she spirals into a vitriolic relationship with her younger self as the two battle over who gets to spend more time existing.

The Substance is primarily concerned about the theme of comparison and self-loathing. Elizabeth Sparkle is someone that is desperately ashamed of her life’s narrative - that she has aged into being an undesirable person. That said, the entertainment industry that she is part of is the very machine that convinces her of this narrative. Sparkle’s boss and his fellow executives (all of which are old, white men) talk about how much pretty girls ought to smile and seem hyper-focused on younger talent for the sake of higher numbers and profits. The very world of entertainment is one that inherently informs Sparkle that she isn’t beautiful anymore - something that she internalizes to the point where she wishes to pursue creating a younger version of herself.

This subsides if only for a moment as Fred, a former classmate of Sparkle, recognizes her in the street and tells her that she’s “still the most beautiful girl in the whole, wide world”. The man may be lacking in an extensive diction, but he’s ordinary - an adjective forbidden in the world of entertainment. Indeed, Fred represents the view of a typical person - one that still sees the beauty in others regardless of their age. He gives her his phone number, hoping that they can reconnect.

Later in the film, Sparkle considers going on a date with Fred, as he’s the only character that shows an interest in her throughout the film. The more she considers it, though, the more she’s reminded of how much the entertainment world has told her that she’s undesirable to the point where she blows off the date. Sparkle is a victim of an industry that toxically and crushingly convinces people that talent, beauty, and the value of one’s life all have an expiration date. The only way to circumnavigate this expiration date, Sparkle chooses to accept, is to depend on the mystery substance that gradually shows more dire side effects.

As Sue, the younger version of Elizabeth Sparkle, begins working on her new show, it becomes clear how she’s viewed by the executives running the show. As the recording session features cameras that feature on her breasts and butt while featuring revealing clothing, it’s clear that Sue is being used as a means of selling sex to the show’s audience - which works. Sue’s boss reveals that their viewership numbers are up, bringing about more publicity and opportunities for Sue. While Sue gets to go out more and have more opportunities, all of these privileges given to her are born out of her physical attractiveness. The entertainment industry only values Sue for her youth and sex appeal. In a world without any hint of ordinary, Sue drowns in success if only for her looks and not for who she is and what talent she has.

The Substance smartly crafts a depiction of self-loathing as Elizabeth and Sue represent two different sides of the same person. As Sue, Sparkle gets to enjoy the privileges of being conventionally attractive in a bubble that showers her in acceptance and praise for. As Elizabeth, Sparkle sees how corrupt and toxic this lifestyle is and tries to reject it, but is ultimately overpowered by Sue’s free-spirited vanity.

The final act examines the consequences for not following the strict rules of The Substance, as Sue refuses to give Elizabeth the equal amount of time to be the main self as she. What results in body horror that feels like it has something meaningful to say about how a society obsessed in a particular type of beauty only isolates and excludes every other type of beauty that doesn’t fit that narrow description. The body horror expresses the deadly tipping point that such standards can have on a person’s self image and self worth.

The film isn’t without its flaws. The Substance fumbles with a few of its characters - particularly with the character that convinces Sparkle to use the Substance in the first place. As this character appears multiple times in the film, there’s conflicting, unclear messaging about what their motivation is for giving Sparkle the Substance. As impressively gory as the film’s final act is, the pacing and editing take a dip in quality. While the finish line that is the film’s final shot does a remarkable job at tying the film together with its opening, the journey to that finish line sees the film meander more than it needs to.

Theming is at the very core of The Substance. This is a film that is ultimately concerned with having a conversation with its audience - a conversation about what leads people to develop ideas that cause them to hate themselves and what they look like. A spotlight on the entertainment industry and how it sexifies younger women only to cast them to the wayside as they get older creates a resentment that poisons Elizabeth Sparkle’s character. And yet, that resentment is mixed with an indecisiveness that ultimately makes her unsure if she wants to truly be rid of the younger version of herself. She knows it’s wrong, and yet, there’s part of her that likes the attention and validation of a society and culture that hyperfixates on a toxic, unattainable “conventional” beauty.

Body horror only elevates The Substance’s theming as the film’s bloody finale sees a narratively and thematically appropriate punishment for the vanity and self-obsession that many of the characters face. As the final shot of the film returns to the Hollywood Walk of Fame, we see Elizabeth Sparkle in a new light. On one hand, she’s a victim of a world that tore apart her self-image. On the other, she refused to accept any other worldview that challenge the narrative told to her by the industry she devoted her life to. That’s what makes The Substance such an excellent example of its genre - body horror informs the tragedy that we see in everyday life. The tragedy of self-loathing and toxic beauty standards is one that overcomes Elizabeth Sparkle. However, such a strong theme being explored in a film as thought-provoking as The Substance gives a visibility and hope that real-world examples won’t follow.

Final Grade: B+

Thank you very much for reading! What are your thoughts on The Substance? Are there other body horror films of a similar quality that you recommend? As always, join the conversation and let me know what you think in the comments and on Twitter/X @DerekExMachina.