By Rose Bialk
Directed by Coralie Fargeat, “The Substance” is regarded as one of the must-see movies of the year for horror fans. When I asked my friends if they were interested in seeing the movie, only the diehard horror lovers who ended up coming with me had even heard of it. Even then, the theater was packed with people ready to “eugh” and “agh” their way through Fargeat’s 141-minute-long film.
The story felt simple yet refreshing, centered around ageism and societal beauty standards. It was an old classic with a terrifying twist: a dystopian miracle drug called “The Substance” is widely accessible — yet still somewhat a secret — marketed as able to make its user physically “perfect,” at least every other week. The most unbelievable part was that it was offered free of charge, something you rarely see in our current national healthcare system.
The film had strong, crystal-clear messages about beauty standards, and how far people — specifically women, whom they target most heavily — might be willing to go to adhere to them. There was a heavy focus on the female figure, what it means to be “perfect” — a big-white-smile, skinny-curves standard embodied by Margaret Qualley (Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood ) — and to be “imperfect,” simply aging, as a woman. It zeroed in on the narrower lens of Hollywood’s biased perspective, but also broadened its message to include everyday women who are constantly subject to the male gaze.
The film’s marketing does not hide that it is heavy on special effects and gore, and for good reason. Being a longtime fan of the “Saw franchise,” I was not too worried about the body horror aspect, and I was impressed by the intricacies of the visual effects. Everything looked, for the most part, very real. I enjoyed the way they chose to “birth” the perfect self — I found it very unexpected, although this also could be because I refused to watch the trailer before seeing it, in fear of setting my expectations incorrectly. I am glad I did not, because not once did I guess correctly where this movie was going, other than the semi-predictable overall plot: Girl gets old, society hates girl, girl finds a way to fix the problem, and of course chaos will ensue when her miracle solution is not, after all, a miracle.
I was pleasantly surprised when within the first few seconds we were introduced to the intense auditory effects of the film — I imagine the foley professionals had a field day with this one. Watching it in a movie theater aside, the sound is designed to be overpowering and, frankly, disgusting. Mere minutes after sitting down and feeling relatively comfortable, we were watching a closeup of Dennis Quaid’s (The Day After Tomorrow) mouth as he messily ate shrimp. The camera operators made sure to get intimate shots of the sauce on his teeth and tongue, and the sounds of his chewing and saliva echoed through the theatre. To be honest, that was the most vivid scene I remember.
In my opinion, this was the best feminist movie since Barbie. While it may not have the reach that Barbie had — body horror is not widely accessible, particularly to those not strong of stomach — it still was a great commentary on gendered society. That said, I do not think I could ever watch it again. Even for a body horror lover, or at least endurer, that was too much to relive.
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