The Substance opens with a famous Hollywood star losing her TV show simply because of her age. As she reflects on the brightness of her early career, she’s offered the chance to participate in an experiment. She soon starts living in a new rhythm—spending one week as her current self and the next as a “younger, better” version of herself.
The film begins with a neon-colored, music-video aesthetic. As the electronic beat pulses, we watch a woman oscillate between two bodies, but this vibrant glow gradually darkens, and The Substance shifts unexpectedly into horror and suspense. Horror is an apt genre for this theme, as aging—especially for women—has become a collective fear. We live in a world that devours and spits out the female body, only to demand more. The Substance brings metaphors about aging, beauty, and desirability to the screen.
It also spits back at the system that insists we must all strive to be “younger and better.” By turning a mirror toward us, it critiques our relationship with our own reflections, mocks the discomfort we feel in front of a mirror, and ridicules our complicity in this cycle.
Without hesitation, it draws on scenes reminiscent of B-movies, repelling, alienating, and perhaps even shocking viewers. There’s a fearless approach here, brought to life by a female director Coralie Fargeat, which is admirable.
As women, we often pull ourselves apart instead of shattering the patriarchal standards imposed on us. Fargeat delivers a fierce rejection of this system, and she does so unapologetically.
The film’s standout, however, is Demi Moore. After so many years avoiding lead roles, she dives into the character of Elisabeth—one she might see as a reflection of herself. She delivers a raw, intense performance, confronting her fears while tossing them into the proverbial shredder. She also confronts the judgments that we, the audience, have shaped over the years about her, winking at an industry that loves to scrutinize her appearance and past plastic surgeries. Moore’s physical and emotional commitment is solid, as she faces a tough test head-on.
A psychologist I listened to recently noted that horror films have a healing effect, allowing us to confront scenarios that frighten us. Since everyone fears aging, The Substance offers a fitting experience for collective healing.
The film’s weakest link is the lack of depth in Elisabeth’s character—we don’t delve into her personality, life, or past. I wish we could understand the origins of her fears, loneliness, and desire to be loved.
I also see traces of the seven deadly sins in Elisabeth’s life: pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. Elisabeth, and her younger self Sue, succumb to these sins in most of their choices, bearing the brunt of the consequences more than the system does.
Instead of women punishing themselves, there’s a need for an attitude that resists the dominant narrative. Here, I’d like to end with an inspiring quote from Jodie Foster:
“The best thing about turning 60 is freeing myself from comparing myself to my younger self. I felt so much pressure to compete with that younger version, but I realized these concerns were only pulling me down.”