The Substance get to the point (with the help of Demi Moore)

Demi Moore was the first woman to pose nude and pregnant at the same time on a magazine cover. She had short hair, it was 1991, the cover was Vanity Fair, and the photographer was Annie Leibovitz. The baby in her womb was Rumer, her first child with Bruce Willis. Initially considered scandalous, the photo has since been imitated and parodied in equal measure, becoming iconic, historic, and a piece of pop culture. Nowadays, many celebrities announce their pregnancies in this way, and no one bats an eye. Because normal things, before they become normal, were once new and shocking—especially when it comes to the female body and its freedom to exist.

The treatment of the female body (and Demi Moore)

Moore's pregnancy photo sparked two opposing reactions: some spoke of female empowerment, while others called it exploitation of a sacred and intimate moment. In any case, the image was subject to the male gaze, the male desire that sexualizes and degrades at the same time, that subjects women to violent power, that renders them passive, and is a direct product of patriarchy. Unfortunately, this male gaze has been a constant in Demi Moore’s career (and that of her colleagues), both during her peak fame and during her quieter periods. Unforgettable – in a negative way – was the uproar over her look on Fendi’s runway in January 2021 for the SS21 collection. Tabloids speculated about too much plastic surgery, that she looked too different, too artificial, almost disfigured. Even when she appeared normal on Instagram, the rumors didn’t stop. Had she "deflated"? Were the photos taken earlier? Not to mention the constant comments about her body, always bringing up her age, for better or worse. 

The Substance addresses just this

In The Substance, a film presented at the Cannes Film Festival directed by Coralie Fargeat and in Italian cinemas from October 30, Demi Moore plays Elizabeth Sparkle, an Oscar-winning actress and erotic fantasy, who decides to undergo a risky and extreme procedure after being fired from her fitness show. Due to this substance, Elizabeth splits into a younger and more beautiful version of herself, Sue, played by Margaret Qualley. The problem arises when Sue, admired by everyone and catapulted into an unstoppable career thanks to her beauty, demands more life, fewer interruptions. The film, with a polished, precise, and clinical style, combined with splatter and an intense focus on the female body that feels more like a butcher shop than an erotic film, boldly explores themes of self-hatred, total and annihilating despair that comes from watching oneself age, and the consequent loss of power to attract men—a power that is both useful and harmful, and which consumes.

The violence of self-hatred and losing desirability in men's eyes

Demi Moore chooses to annihilate herself, to sacrifice everything for one last moment of admiration, literally consuming herself in the sorrow of feeling old, out of shape, no longer sexy, and desired only by the most repulsive men we've ever seen on the big screen. In Fargeat’s vision, and throughout the film, there is not a single man who isn’t repellent, cowardly, or overly boastful. In this deliberately distorted and violent vision, which hides nothing and instead imposes itself on the viewer, the message couldn’t be clearer, repeated and exaggerated but always true and relevant—disturbingly relatable despite all the blood and absurdity. The male gaze, along with our ideas about sex and sexuality, ageism, and the power imbalance between genders, erodes us, gnaws at us, leading to discomfort and madness, sometimes subtly, sometimes less so, but it always does.