GUT REACTIONS: The Substance (2024)

I didn't like this movie. But amid the Ozempic craze, fatphobia en vogue again, and the West's return to conservatism, The Substance feels crucial.

In my GUT REACTIONS series, I contextualize films with their cultural significance. Trigger Warning: This post discusses body dysmorphia and eating disorders.

When MUBI, distributor of Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance, announced two weeks ago that Fargeat’s visceral meditation on body politics was coming back to theaters, the elation was damn-near unanimous.

Again, nearly. Despite the victory lap — joyous, after Demi Moore’s first-time win at the Golden Globes— one guy asked earnestly, “Who is still watching this movie?”

the ratio speaks for itself

People continued to argue in Letterboxd’s comments that the movie appealed exclusively to gore-loving freaks; at least one commenter countered that they weren’t the body horror type but that they enjoyed The Substance thoroughly.

I think there’s something beautiful about a movie that both drums up disgust and garners universal acclaim.

Unfortunately, The Substance is for everybody — because body dysmorphia is a bitch that doesn’t discriminate.

I saw The Substance early enough in the cinema cycle that I mistakenly thought it was merely a science fiction movie. I had snuck in a sandwich, celery soda and BBQ Utz chips from my favorite sandwich joint in Washington, D.C., Compliments Only.

As soon as Elisabeth’s back split open to birth her new self — a renaissance in the truest sense of the word — I regretted munching on a sub.

I often lament my choice to pair body horror with dinner time, but for once, the salami between my teeth felt like real human skin.

My homegirl later told me she had felt bad for me, realizing what I’d have to stomach. I trudged on anyway.

Discussions with my homegirls continued to shape my feelings around this movie, especially because I didn’t like it.

My slight distaste for The Substance is predictable and contrived: I didn’t like the third act.

But I always tell people that I’m glad Fargeat made this movie. And I’m glad she cast Demi Moore in the lead role.

Where some have expressed confusion, I see the value. We actually needed a movie where a rail-thin, gorgeous white woman — with a presumable A-list quality wellness regimen — makes the ultimate sacrifice for youth.

The modern beauty industry makes hundreds of billions globally off of our insecurities. And while my plus-size Black ass is not marching on Washington for skinny white girls, I do feel bad for them.

I know firsthand how exhausting it is to place your self-worth on the ability to adhere to patriarchal, Eurocentric beauty ideals.

The Substance just takes that never-ending pursuit literally.

And the beauty of this ugly film is that it’s an allegory for all the ways we already do this: Botox, BBLs, intermittent fasting, Ozempic, buccal fat removal, and good ol’ fashioned anorexia and bulimia.

We are already micro-blading and dermaplaning and acidifying the epidermis til it bleeds.

We are already working and working out ‘til we collapse.

We are already Facetuning and filtering until we’re unrecognizable, so that we’ve got to get the filler to match the metaverse versions of us.

I don’t know anyone socialized as a woman, no matter their gender presentation, that hasn’t stood at a mirror, wildly pressed for time, scrubbing and clawing at their face because their makeup doesn’t look quite… right.

Meanwhile, I’ve known plenty of men, especially queer ones, who force their bodies to the brink to fit some of Tom of Finland ideal.

They cut and gain, they restrict and maxx out to be socially acceptable in bikini briefs or metal thongs. They amass endless scar tissue for harnesses to caress their bosoms.

Detractors of this film, such as myself, can nitpick all we want, but the universal quality of this movie makes it a gem.

It’s not the soundtrack or the costumes that make this film great. It’s not Moore or Margaret Qualley. It’s not the stunning set design.

It’s Fargeat’s vision.

And besides, the world’s too harsh on women. Let a woman and her work be celebrated despite being “imperfect,” for once.

Editor’s Note: I have been working on this essay for a while. I saw The Substance in October 2024 and the idea for SENSUAL TERRORS started percolating at the end of December 2024.

Since my first draft of this essay, I have been amazed at the groundswell of love for this film. See: Moore’s Golden Globe win, the victory lap in theaters and now The Substance’s Oscar noms.

The Oscars air Sunday, Mar. 2, 2025 via ABC Network.