The Substance and The Beauty Standard of Self-Hatred
This is MY Joker.
For all the talk about beauty standards, preventative botox, diets, but also female empowerment, it seems as if there hasn’t been a story in cinema in recent years which has grappled with what these things actually mean to us as women. Or rather, how they shape us, for better or worse as women.
The latest feminist-horror-body film, The Substance takes all those talking points and holds it up to us as a mirror, and not just to women, but to society as a whole.
The Substance follows a set of months in the life of a 60 year old actress who is seemingly fired for being, well, “old”.
She goes home to nothing, but a lavish apartment with a superior view of the LA skyline and designer clothes. She eats barely nothing, but binges later, her claim to fame, with a star on the Hollywood walk of fame. is that of a well known TV aerobics instructor.
With her fame and notoriety melting away like migrated cheek filler, she is told about a certain “substance” that will give her a chance to relive, and even reclaim, a younger, more beautiful version of her.
One shot in the thigh, and the “other” is reborn. While both are separate, they are also one. The “other” is a 20 something who rises to stardom overnight, but can only “live” every other week. All this is happening while our 60 year old actress is sleeping and living off a feeding tube during the “other’s” week”. Then the switch happens again when the 7 days are up, and our reigning television aerobic instructor is back to it. And the “other” back to sleep. One week on, one week off, respect the balance, and all is well.
Only we find that it isn’t, because the fame, the beauty, the acclaim is never enough for either version. And in the end both end up facing an even bigger horror than cellulite, a gray hair, or a deep set wrinkle.
In an effort to keep this post as spoil-free as possible let's just break it down as to what this film is getting at regarding beauty standards and female self-hatred.
The Substance is an interesting look at this idea that women are:
Either damned if we do, and damned if we don’t: Meaning, women are either criticized for “letting themselves go” for choosing to go gray or embrace fine lines and wrinkles. She is suddenly no longer desirable as age has simply, and naturally, become her. Yet, if she chooses to age gracefully with high end skincare, botox, or a tummy tuck she may be perceived as shallow, vain, maybe only from men, but other women. Ultimately, the decision should be based on what she desires, not what she thinks her spouse, friends, or society would find more valuable. It is only for her, and her alone, and even the world of cosmetics is best to be tread lightly…. This leads me to number two:
Worthy based on looks: I found it so odd when celebrities who were already considered “thin” started with (alleged) weight loss injections made for folks with diabetes or unhealthy BMIs. Sure, its there life they do with it what they will. But, I think it spoke more to the way our bodies, more directly the shape and size of our bodies need to reflect the latest trends. The fact that they should fluctuate not just due to food intake, but based on current “body trends” is so odd. That if we have a certain look to our bodies we will suddenly be “on trend”. I heard a woman once say, “skinny is always in” and I wanted to bark back, “who says? You, your doctor or a man?”
The madonna or the whore: this is just a tried and true literary theory which is a result of the patriarchy. I think you can interpret the rest. Or just read Jane Eyre to see how to subvert this entire dichotomy. Or just think of the times when someone has looked at you and said, “You should smile more!” :)
Who made up these standards anyways? And who is to say we have to abide by them, society?
The harsh reality of these ideas is that many women had to, and still do, operate in this way to receive love, acceptance, even job opportunities(!) as seen in The Substance. As far back as the 50s & 60s a woman’s goal in life was solely marriage, and to be attractive enough for a potential husband. That was her world. That was the trend of the day. And it still exists as a trend in many communities today, but disguised in more polish ways.
After a while of trying to keep up with the latest beauty trends, from ones as small as a nail color for fall to a diet that was probably made up by some online russian bot, we almost break. We narrow our focus too much on our inner, critical monologue. How we, as women, can’t measure up quickly enough or soon enough. And before we know it, the previous beauty standard has left to be replaced by either another ridiculous or absurd one.
I wonder if this cycle leads to further damage, but more specifically, if it leads to self-hatred. The way we learn to cope with these feelings of self-hatred is by finding things to take back the control, the narrative, or to numb out from it all. We drop insane amounts of money on fast fashion to keep up with the latest pinterest picks, starve and punish our bodies during the day only to binge at night on the food we so badly wanted to avoid, we pick boys who don’t care about our stories, interests, or lives, we work long hours for the potential promotion, or to feel fulfilled with our work, we take up less space hoping it will make us feel more seen, we abandon ourselves completely out of self-hatred for what we see looking back in the mirror.
And if we are not careful, what we find looking back at us we will no longer recognize. And that is the most terrifying monster of it all.
“If any female feels she need anything beyond herself to legitimate and validate her existence, she is already giving away her power to be self-defining, her agency.”
― bell hooks
LETTERBOXD REVIEW:
This film absolutely FLOORED me. Finally, a film on being a female and the constant war with have with ourselves, our body, and our age. How yeah it’s about control, but a weird hatred for ourselves. So much so that we go to incredible lengths to dishonor our very being.
It’s all about female self-hatred, and how we buy into some standards that were made up by a man no less.
The body-horror works as a whole metaphor and when view that way you can almost stomach it, almost.
Smart. Camp. Forceful. Demi Moore at her best.
With an awful executive/producer named, Harvey no less.
And yes every woman can relate to a variety of aspects of this film.
Even more freaky is that I know some who would actually go to a suspicious alley, grab a suspicious box and inject themselves with the substanceeee
*smiles
Reader, The Substance is now in theaters, but rated R.