What Scares Me Most in 'The Substance' Isn't Monstro Elisasue, But...

After watching The Substance, I sat in silence for a long, long time. Part of it was physical discomfort—I needed time to calm down. Honestly, there were several moments during the film when I almost felt like vomiting, and I really shouldn’t have eaten a chicken burger right before watching. The other part was psychological exhaustion. Yes, disgust and fatigue—these are the emotions that this film, billed as the most feminist movie of 2024, left me with as a woman.

There was an indescribable, awful feeling surrounding me, a feeling that stemmed from the massive disconnect between what the film intended to express and what it actually conveyed.

The Substance spends almost two-thirds of its runtime showing the endless battle between an aging body and a young one—even though both bodies belong to the same woman. In today’s context, it’s hard to say if this concept deserves praise. If there’s anything to be praised, it’s that it once again warns us: female directors, like everyone else, are also deeply caught in the male-dominated society and entertainment industry’s obsession with youthful female bodies.

From start to finish, all I saw was the obsession and sorrow of a victim. And the real monster hiding behind Elisasue—the true force behind the creation of this monster—was barely touched upon by the filmmakers. I mean, sure, there’s some anti-malegaze sentiment, but it’s so minimal.

The film expends most of its energy exposing the endless self-harm of the victim. And what does that lead to? The perpetrators keep mocking and belittling, the bystanders continue to watch from the sidelines, while the victims are left drowning in self-blame and introspection—all of which fail to really shake anything. The whole story turns out to be a clichéd, Faustian moral tale—an admonition for female viewers that if you sell your soul to the devil out of greed, you will inevitably be punished.

The Substance is yet another tragedy where everyone except the victim walks away unscathed. On screen, the male higher-ups at the entertainment company and their fawning audience are just drenched in blood. Off-screen, male viewers continue to enjoy the spectacle of young women’s bodies without a second thought, completely unaffected by the slight critique of them in the film. It doesn’t even distract them from their fixation on the lead actress’s body. In the end, people leave the theater, gathered in groups, excitedly discussing Margaret Qualley’s butt and the blood-splattered monsters, calling it the most impressive film they’ve seen this year.

That’s the reality. I checked on social media and saw male critics were the first to praise how the film critiques the patriarchy, only to quickly switch to discussing how Margaret exudes the sex appeal of a young actress... I saw female bloggers discussing why the French like women with gap teeth (referring to Margaret)... In the film, the entertainment industry chews on a woman’s beauty, and outside the film, it’s the same.

A fact is that, as one of the many women who have suffered (or still suffer) from body image anxiety, what most unsettled and truly resonated with me in The Substance isn’t the grotesque Elisasue, but the scene where Elizabeth (Demi Moore),repeatedly checks her makeup in the mirror before a date. As time slowly slips away, she ultimately decides not to go. This moment captures the kind of self-loathing and violence women experience in a raw and intimate way more effectively than any other spectacle in the film.

Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD)—if you’ve ever heard of it—came to mind during this scene. It’s a mental illness rooted in appearance anxiety. People with BDD obsess over tiny or nonexistent flaws—sometimes just normal signs of aging, like in Elizabeth’s case—causing immense distress. Most of the time they feel depressed, anxious, and socially isolated, constantly checking their appearance, comparing themselves to others, and seeking reassurance from family and friends, often in a compulsive manner. The most terrifying part is that they may repeatedly visit dermatologists or plastic surgeons, never feeling satisfied with the results, and tragically, some even resort to suicide.

Honestly, any documentary on BDD would be more unsettling and meaningful than this film.

From the perspective of seeking novelty and excitement, The Substance certainly pushes the boundaries of cinematic language—brutal body surgery, bizarre body shapes, decaying or mutated organs, and splattering red blood... But the problem is, it’s hard to say whether these extreme visual spectacles truly address deeper issues or merely keep the audience’s attention fixated on the shocks.