Director: Coralie Fargeat
Genre: Horror/Science Fiction
Year: 2024
Runtime: 141 minutes
In a sunlit yet suffocating Los Angeles, on the day of her fiftieth birthday, Elisabeth Sparkle (an outstanding Demi Moore), a former Hollywood star, is unceremoniously dismissed from the television studio where she works. The producer, a repugnant figure named Harvey (Dennis Quaid) – a name that may sound familiar to many – decided to refresh the network’s lineup with a younger face (and body). As if the humiliation weren’t enough, on her way home, Elisabeth is involved in a car accident.
Miraculously unharmed, but deeply shaken, she finds herself in a hospital where an enigmatic nurse discreetly offers her a solution. Slipping a USB drive labeled The Substance into her coat pocket, he leaves her a cryptic note: «It changed my life».
Soon, we (re)discover that The Substance – introduced in the film’s opening moments – is a serum capable of triggering a process of cloning and rejuvenation. The result is a younger, improved version of the patient undergoing treatment.
It generates another you.
A new, younger, more beautiful, more perfect you.
And there’s only one rule: You share time.
One week for you. One week for the new you.
Seven days each. A perfect balance.
Easy. Right?
If you respect the balance… what could possibly go wrong?
Remember: You. Are. One.
After some hesitation, Elisabeth agrees to the experiment. From her very essence – her own “rib,” so to speak – Sue (Margaret Qualley) is born. And, as in any good horror story, everything goes terribly wrong.
However, from the very first moments, it is clear that The Substance is not the conventional horror film one might expect. There is no overwhelming tension in the traditional sense; instead, the sun-drenched atmosphere unmistakably Californian – yet, perhaps for that very reason, even more unsettling; the spaces, sterile and cold, but no less terrifying than a television studio.
The film is rich with allusions to Kubrick, from The Shining-like color palettes to the omnipresent yet seemingly absent camera eye, which evokes 2001: A Space Odyssey (further reinforced by the film’s sound design). These elements suggest that, while the body is central to the story, there is something more sinister at play – an unsettling presence, an unshakable sense that something is amiss, with inevitable consequences beyond the physical form.
It is impossible to ignore the film’s sharp critique of commodification, sexualization, and control of bodies. Hollywood’s toxic beauty standards serve as a microcosm, reflecting a broader society that turns bodies and their sexual appeal into commodities. The Substance capitalizes on an impeccable advertising premise, employing the most recognizable and widely used aesthetics of social media: vibrant colors, bold typography, and visually enticing graphics – tools that not only shape but also feed the insatiable desire for self-image perfection.
Beyond its commentary on physicality and self-representation, The Substance delves into the relentless pursuit of validation and attention – the compulsion to be seen to exist. Cameras, billboards, and magazine covers – all forms of external recognition – become drugs, fueling the drive for self-improvement. However, as with any addiction, the substance ultimately consumes the users.
Elisabeth and Sue, once a singular entity, descend into mutual destruction, trapped in a gripping battle between two extraordinary actresses who command the film’s emotional core. In truth, their animosity is a reflection of self-hatred: the resentment of past choices, disappointment in failed aspirations, and disgust toward the transformations undertaken for survival. The desire to create a “better version” of oneself becomes a tragic pursuit, one that ultimately leads to nothingness.
Perhaps, at its core, The Substance is a cautionary tale about the cost of chasing an idealized self – one measured not just in dignity but in life and vitality. If, like Sue, we keep demanding more, if we metaphorically (or literally) annihilate our “outdated” selves – flawed but genuine – we may be left with nothing but a monstrous, decaying image. Because when perfection turns into obsession, balance is impossible to maintain. No substance, no matter how powerful, can fill the void left by those who, in their quest for an image, lose their identity.
