Caroline Fargret’s latest masterpiece, The Substance, has truly been a breath of fresh air on the horror scene. The Palme d’Or winner stuns in practically every aspect, with an immaculate soundtrack, nostalgic gore effects, and the cinematography of a true film classic. While the titular substance is the catalyst for Elisabeth’s experience, the vital role that food plays in the wider narrative cannot be ignored. Fargeat uses food to illustrate the finer points of the film, granting insight into these characters and their context.
One of the most iconic images from the film, roast chicken plays a key part in Elisabeth/Sue’s story. Presented in the film as a greasy, slimy version of itself, chicken is used as a stand-in for indulgence. It is not just a food; it has become a vulgar decadence. It stands for everything the industry is against, bumpy skin, unhealthy fats, and huge portions. It’s the ultimate taboo for the vanity obsessed.
For example, the chicken leg. Elisabeth, upset by the stark difference in the treatment of sue and herself indulges in eating it, and later while filming Pump It Up, Sue suddenly squeals and stops as she feels the bone protrude out of her buttock. She attempts to brush it off, while her producers highlight it and begin to pour over the footage. Panicking, she scurries away to her changing room and begins groping her flesh, finding the bone and dragging it out of herself before waking up back in the apartment. She brushes it off, only to be confronted by the remains of Elisabeth’s binge the night before. Disgusted, she tosses the leftovers into the bin.
It beautifully encapsulates the experience of post binge guilt. Sue is what women must strive to be; she is flawless and pure. But now, she is tainted. Her smooth backside has been warped out of shape by this chicken leg. The food has not altered her form by weight gain, or skin breakouts, but by quite literally popping it out of shape unnaturally. The remains of the binge have distorted this perfect ideal; the greasy chicken has tainted our “fitness guru”. She’s outraged at her other self for these actions but fails to notice the own harm she’s doing by using the substance, for contributing to the cycle.
The chicken motif returns stronger throughout the film, appearing in the French cooking book, and being mutilated by Elisabet, creating a more literal interpretation of the chicken. Its body is used and violated, warped and stretched as its rung out by Elisabeth’s hands. It aligns itself with the female body, reflecting the treatment she has endured. They’re not people, they’re just fodder for this industry. A more delicious and young bird will come along and replace them when their time is up. It draws a clear line between the female body as substance for the industry to sustain itself on, and to manipulate as they see fit.
The cookbook tells the reader to ‘eviscerate the carcass’ of the chicken, in an identical fashion to how Elisabeth has eviscerated herself through her substance use. She allowed her body to be hollowed out, to remove the “better version of herself” simply to please the industry, the consumers. Her body is no longer human, but simply fuel for an ever-hungry beast.
Sue, on the other hand, leans towards the egg portion of the wider metaphor. She’s fresh and new, perfectly circular and full of potential. She happily takes up a position with the television network and gleefully accepts the benefits of parties that comes with it. She buys into the endless cycle of the industry, hiding her secret of perfection while reaping the rewards.
But all good things must come to an end, and these producers only care for the wider product. This is hammered in, as eggs are smashed against windows and blitzed into a yellow sludge. Sue will eventually meet the same fate as her predecessors. And this is clear when she begins to literally crumble and collapse as her ‘perfect self’ begins to fall apart. The realisation hits: she’s not the perfect eternal star she dreamed to be, but just another stage of the endlessly repeating chicken-and-egg cycle.
Of course, vanity gets the best of her. In a desperate attempt to keep going, she creates Monstro Elisasue. Neither chicken nor egg, Monstro Elisasue is a culmination of the futility of their efforts. Eggs eventually turn into chickens, and this abomination is what happens when you disrespect that balance. Of course, the spectacular finale of this film slides into the theatrical aspect of horror; with a ludicrous amount of blood as Monstro Elisasue debuts on the New Years Eve Show stage. It gets a little difficult to slide something as monumental as Monstro Elisasue into this chicken-and-egg metaphor, yet she is the perfect deformed cherry on this masterpiece. She compounds how utterly futile this beauty race is. She’s broken the cycle, not by finally achieving perfection, but by becoming something so completely opposite that she collapses into herself.
The Substance gives its viewers plenty to sink their teeth into, and its four nominations and win at the Golden Globes only confirm it as a horror classic.