The Substance: ‘A rage-filled roar against the male gaze’

The real head-spinner is whether Fargeat succeeds in satirising the patriarchal pressures she wants to expose or engages in decades-old ‘hagsploitation’

Carolie Fargeat’s The Substance is no muffled scream into a pillow: it’s a rage-filled roar against the male gaze, extreme beauty standards and the aesthetic social hierarchy women break themselves in two (here, quite literally) to maintain. 

Demi Moore plays Elisabeth Sparkle, a celebrity has-been who, following her 50th birthday, is kicked off her aerobics show by executive Harvey (a wonderfully sleazy Dennis Quaid) to be replaced by someone suitably Gen Z – pert, hot and perfect.

So Elisabeth turns to ‘the substance’ that when injected will spawn a younger, more beautiful version of herself. In this case it’s Sue, a bright-eyed and dewy Margaret Qualley, adorned with beach wave hair, sparkly eye liner and prosthetic breasts, who takes Elisabeth’s former job. 

There’s one catch: each of them can only be awake for one week, after which they must switch consciousness. “No exceptions” reads the instruction pack. Of course, once Sue realises how much fun and power she has with her 20-something looks, the equilibrium starts to skew and an increasingly violent rivalry ensues.

It’s by no means a perfect film. There are a few glaring questions that are left unanswered (including why the hell would you take the substance if you don’t get the younger body’s consciousness?) and some inconsistencies. Meanwhile the objectification of Sue occasionally shifts from political statement to straight-up leeriness, something Fargeat also struggled to balance in her 2017 debut Revenge. 

But some of these complaints can be brushed aside; it’s a body horror – think too hard and most horror flicks will come unstuck. Internal logic is not the genre’s strong point.

It is unclear, however, whether Fargeat succeeds in satirising the patriarchal pressures she wants to expose or engages in decades-old ‘hagsploitation’; the use of the older female body as a vehicle for disgust and fear. 

I don’t think the film falls into this trap. Moore is demonstrably beautiful, but Elisabeth is stuck within a game that favours only the young and she makes no attempt to think outside of her industry. 

Margaret Qualley plays Sue, a younger, 'more perfect' version of Elisabeth

Take Elisabeth's old friend, Craig, who thinks she’s still “the most beautiful girl in the world”. Only halfway through the film does she arrange a date (this is an oddly touching scene in which Craig is overjoyed at her call, and later checks via text that she’s OK when she doesn’t show up – he’s a stark contrast to the way younger men look at and treat Sue). Otherwise, Elisabeth lives vicariously through Sue, not realising she could have a meaningful life in older age.

The ‘hag’ in the second half therefore isn’t necessarily the way the world sees Elisabeth: it’s the way she sees herself. To throw my hat in the ring of much media debate, this a monster of self-hatred, not of ageing. 

The third act goes from the sublime to the ridiculous as society at large gets to see the real Elisabeth/Sue in an iconic scene that unsubtly mixes The Elephant Man, King Kong, Society and Carrie. It’s a deafening catharsis; a big “FUCK YEAH” moment in which you want to scream and howl, explode and implode all at once at the sheer stupidity of what women put themselves through simply to feel loved.

At the end of it, I wondered why the concept of cosmetic alterations hadn’t been turned into a horror before: nose jobs, breast implants, facelifts, liposuction are all vile, squeamish and violent bodily procedures that have been calling out for a film to ridicule their very existence. Regardless of its criticisms, this film needed to be made.

Onto wine pairings, although you probably won’t have much of an appetite watching this. It was almost too easy with Fargeat’s focus on food – and specifically roast chicken which Elisabeth takes to new heights once ‘gifted’ a French cookery book (the world in fact deserves an entirely separate piece on the role of chickens in this film). 

With its nod to French cooking and roast chicken my immediate thought turned to a white burgundy But I felt this overlooked a glaring element that features prominently in this film: sound. This film is unashamedly noisy, whether it’s Harvey masticating a prawn platter, the squelch of needles going through open, pus-filled wounds, or the incessant hardcore music which amplify the violent aesthetics.

The use of sound adds another texture to the film, but more interesting is the lack of noise when Elisabeth is in her apartment; it’s a jarring juxtaposition that augments Elisabeth’s increasing loneliness. Similarly one of Sue’s side effects, if she doesn’t ‘stabilise’ using Elisabeth’s spinal fluids, is an ensuing deafness – her hearing hollow and fuzzy to create a sense of the bodily and the conscious being detached, as though wearing a suffocating mask. 

Then there’s the thrash metal of the climactic scene, assaulting all our senses and providing our much-needed literal scream against the patriarchy. And, at the end, a sigh and a silence – of sheer and utter exhaustion. 

In that vein, I’m instead leaning toward the Cave de Lugny Crémant de Bourgogne Blanc de Blancs – the same grape (chardonnay) and region as a white burgundy to go with the chicken, but there’s something wonderfully violent about that ‘pop’ of opening a sparkling wine (unless you’re opening it properly aka slowly, in which case you get a slightly disappointing ‘champagne fart’). Then there’s the diminuendo of bubbles which rise into a whisper as they form a mousse at the top. I can see Harvey drinking this with his squelchy prawns.

This one has notes of lemon and pear, along with butter and cream (perfect for Elisabeth’s French-inspired feast) – and a nutty note to match the outrageous whacky-ness of this film.

Cave de Lugny Crémant de Bourgogne Blanc de Blancs NV is available from Waitrose (£16.99) and Majestic (£14 mix six, or £17 per bottle). The Substance is in cinemas now.