CONTROL YOURSELF!: Reviewing The Substance And The Phenomenon Of The Comically Grotesque.
★★★☆☆
Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance has stood out in recent weeks amongst the crescendo of horror releases leading up to Halloween as a film of duality. Its physical advertisements scattered across the Underground have felt deliberately sparse, with these posters generally being limited to the film’s title in block text accompanied by an image of the titular substance’s activator. This clinical depiction of the film signalled itself to me as strikingly dissimilar from how The Substance has often been enveloped online with other films of the decade that have been restricted by reliance on the ‘camp-factor’ (Megan 2022, Bodies Bodies Bodies 2022, etc). The reality is that these themes of severity and camp entangle in the film in a way that rejects the notion that they are mutually exclusive. Instead, they are equally necessary components of ‘the grotesque’. The humour laced throughout the film alongside persistent depictions of bodily decay interrogates the audience on why the female form exists as a source of societal amusement.
The Substance rejects the doctrine of subtlety from its beginning. Its opening montage displays the degradation of a Hollywood ‘Star of Fame’ from an object of reverence to one of neglect. This sequence precedes the first scene focused on the star’s recipient: the film’s protagonist Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore). The opening denies Sparkle the ability to resist being defined by a fractured emblem of forgotten fame, portraying it as a fact of her existence that she cannot escape. The film is adamant about reminding the audience of this ‘fact’ in the next few scenes, where Elisabeth is sacked from her job as a fitness instructor in favour of a younger, fresher, face. The consistency of these reminders borders on insulting the audience’s intelligence, but this lack of subtlety is generally neutralised by the film’s acute sense of self-awareness. The Substance knows that it is unsubtle and revels in this knowledge, suggesting that there is no place for any alternative in a world that is wilfully oblivious to the suffocating pressure of the female beauty standard.
Due to this awareness, the increasingly gruesome depictions of body horror operate less so as a punishment to the characters (for their ‘crimes’ of vanity, etc), but more so as one to the audience. The upholders of misogyny (whether directly or through complicity) are forced to witness the gruesome consequences of their actions through a scenario that feels decreasingly detached from reality as it progresses. The final condemnation of the audience commences in the film’s final act, where the humour lingering from the aftermath of an absurd fight scene is wholly extinguished. The absence of humour in the film’s final act initiates its transformation into an unapologetic bloodbath. The prosthetic effects are undeniably stellar as this sequence ensues, but this doesn’t outweigh the damage that is done to the surprisingly wry commentary that is constructed throughout the film’s superior first and second acts. Sadly, this transition leaves a sequence that seems solely intended to nauseate the audience, as if it must prove the lengths it will go to incite a reaction. And incite a reaction it did– not merely one of disgust but in fact, hysterical laughter in the audience of this specific screening. There is something achingly frustrating about this, a gut-punch to those of us with critical thinking skills and cinema etiquette; and somewhat, there is a fault in the marketing of this film which provokes such a visceral comedic reaction from, well, the male viewers. In the weeks leading up to the release of the film, ‘camp-attack’ was the proverbial description lingering, and the onslaught of ‘brat summer’ film references certainly did not go amiss. However, I was left wondering what this contributed to the reception of The Substance. Yes, there are humorous elements if not ‘camp’ elements – but the taste it leaves in your mouth is far from positive, and, typical of the male viewer, the comedic elements seemed to be conjured up in the destruction and aging of the female body. The trope of the ‘haggard old woman’ jump-scare is tired, and it has overstayed its welcome in the horror genre; the wrinkled and deformed Elisabeth revealed to us in the final quarter of the film is supposed to function as a shock device, a commentary on the lengths women are forced into to preserve their beauty – it is not there for your viewing pleasure.
This somewhat desensitised reaction to grotesque special effects and the dichotomy of female bodily agency is not just limited to this film in particular. I can recall similar experiences of frustration when watching Poor Things; scenes of the mental deterioration of Bella Baxter as she experiences life in a brothel, depictions of bodily deconstruction and belittling by figures of safety and authority being met with laughter for many viewers. It is overwhelmingly alienating to experience this in any context, but particularly witnessing hysterics during one of the most disturbing and shocking bodily horror depictions is jarring, to say the least, and unfortunately distracts from what was an intriguing and exciting film premise.
Clearly, Sue’s exclaiming of “Control Yourself!” did not penetrate the surface of the viewers of this film, and paradoxically didn’t affect the overbearing writing and direction of the grotesque sequences in the film. Perhaps if they listened to their own glaringly obvious commentary they would craft some more interesting nuance, rather than bludgeoning you with the same five-body horror depictions. Qualley and Moore’s stellar acting performances are the saving graces of The Substance, and we can only hope this awards season does not completely alienate these two powerhouse actresses from their celebrations, as I fear the film would not hold up without them.
The Substance had its UK cinema release on the 20th of September 2024.
Edited by Humaira Valera, Co-Film & TV Editor
