“The Substance” Forced Me To Confront My Internalized Ageism
Note: This article is spoiler free.
Bette Davis scathingly said, “old age ain’t no place for sissies.” Two of her movies addressed the plight of an aging woman in the spotlight: All About Eve and Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Whether her quote holds true in a general sense depends on who you ask. But one thing is for certain: the cult of youth is as omnipresent now as it was in Davis’ era.
The obsession with thwarting old age is central to The Substance, directed by Coralie Fargeat. I don’t go to the movies often, but was intrigued enough by this premise to buy a ticket. I don’t regret that choice. It’s one of the best horror films I’ve seen in years. Demi Moore plays Elisabeth Sparkle, a former actress who hosts a hokey, but successful aerobics show. Trouble ensues when she commits the unspeakable crime of turning 50. And so, the frantic rush to discard the old and herald the new begins.
The prospect of being put out to pasture is excruciating for Elisabeth, who doesn’t have much of an identity beyond her livelihood. Instead of embracing the chance to repurpose her life, she embarks on a dangerous quest to turn back the clock. Indeed, as far as she’s concerned, youth and value are inextricably linked. Only one thing could inform this way of thinking: ageism.
I’m critical of this prejudice, but can’t fully escape its impact. Granted, I’m not a Hollywood starlet with cameras in my face on a regular basis. But I do think about getting older. I’m not thrilled about being closer to 40 than 30. I have a few grey hairs that weren’t there even five years ago. When the eldest members of my generation joke about being “geriatric millennials” (those born roughly between 1980 and 1985), I’m relieved to miss the cut off by two years. I love being mistaken for younger, which I attribute to having dark skin, a healthy lifestyle and great genes. But it begs the question: assuming I can still do all the things I love as the years elapse, why worry about the inevitable physical changes? Aren’t crow’s feet and laugh lines better than the alternative? I suppose. But society places emphasis on having a young, “fresh” appearance, and I internalize that.
Some of the movie’s disturbing elements are interspersed with satire. But only one triggered a visceral reaction for me. Aging gracefully doesn’t exist here; it’s presented with the finesse of a sledgehammer. Varicose veins and mottled, desiccated skin are exaggerated to such a grotesque point that I muttered to no one in particular, “I never want to look like that!” Is that shallow? Vain? Yes, of course. But it’s true, nonetheless. I take no pleasure in imagining a future me that is less attractive and agile.
Moore’s performance is widely praised as perhaps the best of her career. Justly so, I think. It’s courageous, bold, and distinct from her previous work. As Elisabeth, she lays herself bare in every sense. When she gazes at her reflection with a critical eye, I was reminded of all the times I’ve picked my body apart in a similar fashion. The camera highlights Elisabeth’s displeasure by zeroing in on every inch of her in a way that’s supposed to make us feel uncomfortable. The real tragedy is that she’s a knockout without potions, creams or a black market serum. But she’s too hung up on being middle-aged to see that. Elisabeth’s younger counterpart, Sue, is subjected to similar scrutiny, but we’re given very different messages depending on which woman is on the screen. We’re encouraged to lust for one and disparage the other.
The Substance is, above all, a cautionary tale of what can happen when your self worth hinges on external validation. Nowhere is this more apparent than the film’s final act, which is so lurid and unhinged you don’t know whether to scream or laugh. It’s completely absurd, but the same can be said of the arbitrary beauty standards imposed on women. The extremes some of us will go to “perfect” ourselves is perfect fodder for horror.
I can’t say that this film magically reversed all my views on aging. But it did convince me to put them under the microscope. Perhaps one day I’ll be as evolved as Carrie Fisher, who really struck at the heart of the matter when she said, “youth and beauty are not accomplishments. They’re the temporary, happy byproducts of time and/or DNA. Don’t hold your breath for either.”
