The Substance: A Handheld Mirror
By Zeynep Inanoglu
There are many striking, unforgettable scenes in The Substance, director Coralie Fargeat’s body horror delight. In the first act, we see Elisabeth Sparkle, played by Demi Moore, inject herself with the titular substance which she has been promised will provide a “more perfect” version of herself. After injecting the liquid into her arm, Elisabeth falls to her bathroom floor in agony as something moves beneath her skin, splitting her open in a bloody mess. Sue, played by Margaret Qualley, is born.
As Sue examines her newborn beauty, we almost forget the horror inflicted upon Elisabeth’s body, which now lies motionless and disfigured on the floor. Instead, our eyes are on Sue, a modern imagination of the perfect woman. We are all guilty of leering at Sue’s body here, a mix of admiration and jealousy poisoning our own view of ourselves. It is worth noting that even Margaret Qualley, who wore prosthetic breasts for the film, was not exempt from having to alter her body to fit the impossible standards Sue represents. The birth of Sue is a scene as frightening as it is fascinating, the audience’s first introduction to the gorey madness of the film.
The film’s most disturbing moment however is during a goreless sequence in which Elisabeth is getting ready for a date. At this point in the film, Sue has taken over every aspect of Elisabeth’s life, rendering Elisabeth to a hermit who spends her days in front of the TV waiting until she can see the world through Sue’s eyes again. She calls a former classmate, who earlier in the film referred to her as “still the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world,” in an attempt to reaffirm her desirability. Dressed for her date, Elisabeth is objectively stunning. She is about to leave when she catches a glimpse of Sue on the billboard outside her apartment. She returns to her bathroom, rearranging her hair, reapplying her makeup, altering her dress to hide her insecurities. After several iterations of this, Elisabeth pulls at her face like it is a mask, one she is desperate to remove in the hopes that a more beautiful face lies underneath. She abandons the date, ending the night hunched over, lost in a brutal cycle of self-hatred.
It is a heartbreaking scene, and for many painfully familiar. How many of us have spent minutes, maybe even hours, examining ourselves in the mirror with disgust, prodding at everything we don’t like? Elisabeth is an aging woman in an industry that relies on youth and beauty to function. The pressure to be “perfect” is especially oppressive. And yet the film resonates for any person who lives in a body that fails to meet society’s standards. Whether we are famous movie stars or everyday people, we cannot escape our bodies. And we shouldn’t have to. It is the constant critique, the never ending dialogue of “not good enough” that needs to be eradicated. We are forced to examine every aspect of ourselves, to always be cognizant of where we are lacking. I am reminded of Patrick Bateman in American Psycho who, after being complimented on his appearance, retorts with, “You can always be thinner, look better.” In a world where thinness, youth, and beauty are paramount, one must decide between trying to meet those standards or blowing them up in a bloody, pulpy mess.