THE SUBSTANCE: Beauty is Horror

Beauty is a woman's most valuable currency. This is an idea that has been spoonfed throughout societies for centuries.

Ancient China depicts numerous female characters in the classic Three Kingdoms, all of them known for their extreme beauty. Diaochan specifically was one that I was drawn to, although being described as an amazingly talented artist from a young age, her appearance became her legacy and is the most important trait of her character as her story arc became known as one of the earliest depictions of "The Beauty Trap".

Today, in a post-modern age, things are not much different. The early nineties were known as a post-feminist era, a time of significant cultural shift after the second wave of feminism that began in the 1960s. It was around then that the backlash on such ideologies from the media gained strength. Feminist women were seen as unfulfilled. Diet culture was on a high, and the supermodel figure was portrayed as the ideal. Women were pushed to be thin, young, and disciplined, to be valued.

It was also then that Susan Bordo released her sophomore work Unbearable Weight (1993). In it, she explains how such practices are a direct example of a male-dominated society imposing power over women's bodies. Beauty standards turn into indirect oppression, creating a notion of a perfect body and putting women at war with their self-image. Bordo goes on to say how not meeting such standards takes women into clinical cases, treating their bodies like a prison that they have to be released from.

This goes as far as to show women's lack of power over their bodies. She explains that consciously or unconsciously we fall into this trap in which we starve and punish ourselves to satisfy a need to fit in and appeal to men. For Bordo, the concept of femininity was formed according to such rules of a patriarchal culture. The notion is that to be valued you must be thin, young, and submissive.

Then, we have Coralie Fargeat's lenses on such concepts in The Substance, a story she wrote, as she tells Elle Magazine, from her own conflict with her body image. What we see on screen as a final result is a grotesque, horrifying, and intimate depiction of this struggle—and, as I think of it, one of the best feminist pieces of media we've had in recent years.

Demi Moore takes perhaps her boldest role as Elisabeth Sparkle, a star past her prime, who struggles with aging and tries to hold onto the image that made her famous: a young woman full of energy. When she gets fired from her 80s-style aerobics program to make space for a new girl, Elisabeth gets sent into a spiral of solitude and irrelevancy. Then, she gets a mysterious offer, that promises to give her exactly what she longs for.

The substance (the actual one in the story) is a one-time shot that allows Elisabeth – in a nauseating sequence – to give life to a second self. A better version of herself. Sue (a vibrant Margaret Qualley) is everything Elisabeth wants to be. Seductive. Active. Beautiful. Young.

But, of course, the catch is that the two selves must alternate every seven days. No exceptions. They must always remember that they are one.

Still, a sip from the fountain of youth hardly stops there. Sue quickly takes Elisabeth's place in the fitness show, securing her spot as America's sweetheart not too long after. The attention is addicting and soon she is pushing her boundaries into how far she can live that life without consequences. This results in perhaps one of the most thrilling final acts in recent horror, something Fargeat made clear that she wished for it to be a gruesome reflection of the inner battle going on behind a white pearly smile.

Those final minutes scream at you in the audience, it doesn't let you look away, and you don't want to look away. There is no more explicit way the self-violence that goes on in a woman's mind could've been portrayed. It's a true depiction of female rage – a term that has been perhaps too overused but fits perfectly here.

Aging is a losing battle that we are still expected to fight against. Youth is seen as perhaps a woman's most valued trait. Such a notion is so inherited in society's mindset that although aware of it, we hardly push back. We've reached an era in which young girls are going into their early teens using anti-aging products and a few years later starting preventive botox. They go on the internet in their early 20s to find that their life peaked at 17 so now they feel hopeless, grasping whatever they can that can make them feel like a teen again.

The truth is from the moment we leave childhood we're met with a ticking clock. Soon, we'll reach 25, and from that point on we're pushed further away from our individual place in society, the only way to gain it back is by becoming somebody's mother.

Moore captures this feeling perfectly with Elisabeth Sparkle. After getting let go from her show, the last grasp she had on her youth, Elisabeth completely loses her sense of value. On the street she hides herself, confiding in her apartment, not interacting with anyone. She's alone, and the only time she can feel any confidence is with Sue.

This is also reflected in the cinematic choices made by Fargeat. The use of nudity for both characters is done in a quite interesting way. With Sue, the camera is sensual, we watch her body through lustful lenses, and the way she moves is seducing, daring. When it comes to Elisabeth, it's a judgemental gaze, it's as if the audience can feel her pointing out her flaws without her having to verbalize it.

Many have pointed to the film's lack of subtlety as a weak spot, but as I see it, it's probably one of its biggest strengths. This story is meant to be in your face, to hold you, as the audience, by your shoulders and force you to see what is it that is being done to women. It's in the aesthetically pleasing diet culture being promoted on TikTok. It's in the romanticization of the influencer lifestyle. It's in the Ozempic ads being played in the movie theater.

Ultimately, Coralie Fargeat brings Bordo’s ideas on beauty as oppression to come vividly to life. Bordo's analysis highlights how beauty standards become a form of control, compelling women to alter themselves in a losing battle for approval. The Substance brings this struggle into stark relief, using horror to depict the nightmarish consequences of seeking self-worth in societal approval.

The gruesome unraveling of Elisabeth’s identity, as she is overshadowed by Sue, captures the relentless push to mold oneself into the perfect image, even at the cost of self-destruction. Through the horror genre, Fargeat makes us confront our complicity in this cycle, forcing us to see the violent consequences of treating beauty as a woman’s sole currency. In doing so, The Substance echoes Bordo’s assertion that the pressure to be thin, young, and flawless is more than a personal struggle—it’s a societal demand, wielded to subdue, isolate, and ultimately erase women’s individuality.