The personification of the collective fear and anger towards aging, The Substance written and directed by Coralie Farget, and starring Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley pulls no punches as it dissects the innate anger towards the natural human progression. The film is brilliant in its differentiation between men's and women's attitudes towards aging, and through its microscopic focus on the body brings forth hard truths about the attitudes towards older women, their bodies, and the hatred that seems to permeate around them, both internal and external. Winning best screenplay at Cannes and debuting with stellar reviews, The Substance has become a generation-defining leader for best horror film of the decade.
Every element of the film worked in tandem with one another, but one of the strongest was the set direction. From the TV studio to Elisabeth's (Demi Moore) apartment, to the bathroom we spend a quarter of the film in, every set accentuated the state of Elizabeth's perception of her place in the world around her. The long deep hallways making her seem physically small; the tall portraits of her younger self looking over her almost mockingly. The open window of her penthouse puts her on display to the whole city. Even the bathroom, with white tiles, excruciatingly bright, and paired with intimate and center framing put her body at center stage, mirroring how it's the only thing that seems to be discussed by everyone around her.
The cinematography provided layers of visual subtext that stood even among the grotesque images it captured. The up close, intimate, and center framing of the characters was almost uncomfortable with how inescapable it was. The camera work changed with each character, communicating the state of the characters as well as how they feel within their bodies. The switch between Elisabeth (Demi Moore) and Sue (Margeret Qualley), the younger, “better” version of herself is the most evident. In both, the camera lavishes their bodies. However for Elisabeth, it's much more jarring and shyer; The lighting is gray and dreary, and there's a melancholy to it that mirrors her attitude towards her own body. This only grows as her other self becomes more accustomed to life. In contrast, Sue’s is lively, confident, and unabashed; Bright, almost commercial grade lighting, a romantic light as the camera sweeps over her features like watchful eyes. Harvey (Dennis Quaid) is framed as the most ignorant. While Sue is unabashed, Harvey is blissfully unaware. The camera is incessantly close to his face, his mouth, his teeth, the prawns he eats, and the cigarettes he smokes. There’s no hesitation, no self-consciousness, no reason to be the slightest bit concerned with how he is presenting himself. Despite the horrific changes that Demi Moore's body undergoes I couldn't help but find Harvey's character the most grotesque to look at specifically because of how he’s captured and framed.
It's poignant to the differences in attitudes towards aging that are held by men and women. Although the film is quite partial to the negative connotations towards aging in general, the specific way Harvey is shown to have no qualms with himself and the way that he looks and acts with his age is beautifully contrasted with Elizabeth. The characters are all representatives of different faucets that keep the hysteria about aging alive. In the modern-day age of social media, it seems to be at an all-time high. Opening the film on Elisabeth’s Hollywood star, freshly put in and showing the short montage of time passing and the star changing with it, forming cracks and stains and all the bruises that come with time. Being cast aside by Harvey for someone younger, and more palatable to audiences while being surrounded by constant reminders of the love and appreciation shown to her when she was younger and more beautiful set her up to be the perfect candidate for the substance; “a younger, better version of yourselves” is whats shes promised and that's what she gets in Sue. Sue, who becomes angry and resentful at observing how Elisabeth lives her days in isolation, not taking advantage of the life that she relishes. Sue, who is showered and lavished with love, validation, and praise for her picture of perfection. Sue whose billboard, right outside Elisabeth's window, torments her. The allegorical message of The Substance is not hard to find but the film takes a nuanced and fleshed-out route in exploring the intricacies of the topic rather than beating the audience over the head with it.
Demi Moores's performance cannot be understated here. The amount of pain, and longing she brings to her character is astounding. Her anger is palpable. Her sadness is palpable. Even in moments when she makes decisions that make you want to scream in frustration you can't help but empathize with the layers of disillusionment that Demi Moore translates through the screen. Margaret Qualley is also outstanding. Her ability to usher in crushing agony and anxiety in the third act was heartbreaking, despite being antagonistic almost the entirety of her screen time. Seeing the contrast of the new and old on screen, and the tension build and build between these two versions of themselves despite them never interacting made the third act one of the wildest, gut-wrenching, and jaw-dropping finales in recent years.
The Substance, though bloody, incongruous, and heartbreaking, is a carefully crafted, nuanced deconstruction of our fear and horror of aging, and what it pushes people to do. With noticeable inspirations (unconfirmed) from Frank Hennenlotter to Suspiria (2018), Coralie Fargeat has cemented herself as a filmmaking genius, with a film that will define a generation.